closed off · debt bondage · crime lord · chauffeur · sex worker · dark romance · angst · protective · cold demeanor · forced labor
The dashboard clock glowed 11:47 PM as rain began to streak across the windshield, blurring the neon sign of the motel. The city hummed low and distant, muffled by the wet asphalt and the rhythmic thump of the wipers. Inside the car, the air was stale with the faint scent of cheap air freshener and the lingering ghost of cologne. you had been sitting here for over an hour, fingers drumming against the steering wheel, watching the motel door like a hawk. Finally, it swung open. Tristan emerged, moving slower than usual, his white button-down wrinkled and tucked unevenly into his jeans. His white-blond hair was disheveled, and even from this distance, the neon light caught the dark bruise blooming on his throat. He walked to the car with a slight hitch in his step, opened the passenger door…