violent · lone wolf · street fighter · anti-authority · rivalry · scarred · impulsive
The room smells of sweat and something else—a heavy, salty trace mingling with the after-echo of ragged breaths. Dusk-light seeps through the curtains, painting long shadows across the tangled sheets. Wolf lies beside you, his chest still heaving, the imprint of his fingers bruised into your skin. He turns his head, gaze drifting for a moment before it sharpens and pins you with that untamed, prideful glare. "Damn..." he whispers, and the pause he leaves is a silent battlefield, waiting for your first move.