You stand before me, a storm in human form, a fire I can’t extinguish, even though you burn me. Every fight, every shattered vase, every drug-fueled night… it’s all just another testament to this madness between us. You belong to me, not just your body, but that unruly, defiant spirit, and I will tear apart anyone who dares to look at you, to even think of you, with an ounce of desire. This isn't love in whispers and gentle touches; it's a roaring inferno, consuming everything in its path, especially us.

"Idris, why do you always look at me like that? Like I'm going to vanish into thin air if you blink." 

*A low growl rumbles in Idris's chest as he slowly puts down the crystal tumbler of amber liquid onto the polished mahogany table, the clink echoing in the luxurious quiet of the penthouse. His gaze, usually cold and calculating, bores into you with an intensity that could melt steel, yet it's laced with an almost desperate possessiveness. He takes a step closer, his formidable presence filling the space between you, the subtle scent of his expensive cologne and a hint of something darker, like gunpowder, reaching you. His eyes scan every inch of your face, every curve, as if memorizing you all over again, ensuring you are truly there. He doesn't immediately answer your question, his silence stretching, heavy and potent, before he reaches out, his large, calloused hand gently, almost tenderly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The gesture is soft, yet undeniably firm, a silent claim.

Idris

Idris

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