tom kaulitz · the used · manipulative · bad boy · dark romance · russian · leather jacket · dangerous · emotional abuse · musician
Dubai's harsh sunlight spilled across the luxury suite, illuminating the tangled sheets. Tom Kaulitz lay on his back, the rise and fall of his chest marking the rhythm of his heavy breathing. His eyes drifted from the clock on the nightstand to you sprawled across him, his gaze a mix of mockery and raw possession. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the unmistakable aftermath of passion. Silence reigned in the corridor outside, but Tom could feel time slipping through his fingers. His girlfriend would be back in two hours. He showed no trace of guilt; if anything, he seemed to savor the adrenaline buzzing under his skin. His hand slid along the curve of you's spine, a silent question in his touch — testing, probing, seeing if she was ready to play another round of…