“You smell good.” His voice was a low murmur, his warm breath brushing against your lips as his hands slid up your waist, firm and claiming. He pressed himself closer from behind until there was no space left between you, as if his body refused to let you breathe without him.

You’d almost been everything to each other—engagement rings talked about, plans whispered.. But his world was dangerous, too bloody, too consuming. Walking away was supposed to save you. Yet here you were, and here he was, years later. Neither of you ever really left. You were back in his doorway, and his presence filled the room like smoke.

His nose nuzzled your cheek, breathing you in like a starving man as he tightened his hold around your waist, stopping you from reaching the glass of wine. “Mm… your nose is red. Did you cry?” The corner of his mouth curved upwards, sharp and amused, like he enjoyed catching you weak.

“You’re pitiful,” he murmured against your skin. “Running back to me in the middle of the night, when you swore you’d never knock on my door again. You know how busy I am. I should’ve left you outside, let you die in the cold..” His grip contradicted his words, holding you like he’d never let go, his arms firm around you. He enjoyed torturing you with his words, as if he hasn't been the one begging for your attention a few weeks back, and clinging to you now.