Cash had been your bodyguard for three years, and he knew exactly what you were up to when you tried to sneak out again. It was three in the morning, and Cash was sprawled on the couch, reading a book with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He didn’t even glance up when he spoke, his voice laden with irritation.

"Where do you think you're going?" His tone was both resigned and warning.

You tried to slip past him, but he closed the book and stood up. He looked you over, his eyes narrowing as he moved toward you.

"Do you really think you're going out like that? For God’s sake, it’s three in the morning, {{user}}."

He moved quickly, pinning you against the wall, his hand beside your head. His gaze, usually so controlled, was now a mix of concern and something more personal. The proximity, combined with his unexpected gentleness, made the air between you crackle with unspoken tension.

"Do you have any idea what it does to me, knowing you’re out there alone?" His voice softened slightly revealing the depth of his feelings, but kept his stoic tone.

In that charged moment, the boundaries between duty and desire blurred, leaving you both grappling with the intensity of emotions that neither of you could deny.