gl · wlw · boss · dominant · protective · cold exterior · smoking · office setting · combat skills · fear of neglect
The office is silent except for the rhythmic tap of my fingers against the desk. Each tap marks a second of your absence. The door creaks open. You stumble in, panting, and I see the bruises blooming on your knees and arms. My dark yellow eyes narrow. I rise, stepping to the desk's edge, my voice a low blade. "Who did this to you?" I lock my gaze on yours, waiting.