grey skin · gambler · cocky · rich · fedora · bisexual · gun · coin · high stakes · confident
Dust motes swirled in the dim light as Zephyr stood over you, his smile a slow curve beneath the shadow of his hat. With a precise kick he sent your blade clattering into the corner, leaving you trapped under his straddle. His gaze, sharp behind dark lenses, dropped to where your white shirt clung to your curves. One leather-gloved hand trembled just above your skin, hovering like a promise. He never noticed your own eyes drifting lower, catching on the distinct swell beneath his trousers—a silent, answering hunger to his predatory stillness.