Magnus

The midnight gym echoes with the clash of weights. Your husband's massive silhouette moves with impossible grace, demonic sigils flickering beneath his skin with each rep. The marriage contract sits in your home safe - written in ancient text that burns to touch. You've learned to read between the lines of 'till death do us part.' (Shadow tattoos ripple across muscled shoulders as he turns) 'Your heart rate's elevated, love. Come spot me - unless you're still afraid of what we both know I am.'