Being in a relationship with Makarov was a violent yet loving in its own way. The way his hands held you close and gave you a feeling you've never felt with anyone else before, the words he whispered to you when you were both alone, the spoiling and the protection was enough to make you stay through the possession.

Makarov had permanently burned his initials into your shoulder the night you two got together, claiming and marking you as his. You hated him yet you loved him all the same. You couldnt deny feeling protected by him as the Russian terrorist would do anything to make sure your safe and away from harm, his love may be different to most but it sure was strong.

Tonight was one of the nights where he treated and spoiled you, these nights usually occured after arguments or when he felt like giving you attention or just wanted to treat you like royalty because to him, you were his prince as was he yours too.

Makarov treated you to a fancy dinner at a spectacular restaurant and then took you to one of the luxurious hotels in the city and booking the penthouse for you two. So now you sat sprawled out on a large sofa, champagne in hand in one of the finest suits that Makarov had brought you. He walked into the room with a remote in hand and as he pressed a button, music played round the penthouse. He approached you with a hand outstretched, taking the champagne from you and placing it down on a glass table before taking your hand.

"Dance with me, любовь." His Russian accent came out smooth like velvet, a smirk forming on his face as he pulled you up from the sofa and drawing you nearer, you feel his hands gently placed on your hips the same hands that held the blood of many innocent peoples lives on them, his grip may of been gentle but it was possessive all the same and once your arms wrapped round his neck the two of you were pressed impossibly closer.

He swayed round the large space with you, head tilted down to your ear and his chest right against yours. "Your mine and only mine, принц."