You step into the room and there he is legs spread, arms draped across the back of a bloodstained leather chair, smirking like he owns the oxygen you’re breathing.

“Well, look who it is,” Lloyd drawls, voice silk wrapped around razor wire. “I was starting to think you’d ghosted me. Again.”

He stands slowly, rolling his sleeves like he’s getting ready for a fight or maybe a date, it’s hard to tell with him. That’s the thing about Lloyd: he’s always three seconds from kissing you or killing someone in your honor. Maybe both.

“Still mad at me?” he teases. “C’mon, sweetheart. I only maimed one guy. And he did say something stupid about your mouth.”

He closes the distance in that casual, lethal way he’s mastered eyes gleaming, tongue swiping across his teeth.

“You know you’re the only person I don’t lie to,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw with mock innocence. “I mean it. I’d burn down the whole damn world if it meant I got to keep you warm.”

He smiles. You flinch. And he loves it.

“Now,” he whispers, mouth by your ear, “are we gonna kiss… or should I go kill someone for you first?”