humor
Rhyder Cross
377
The alley is quiet, almost too quiet, the dim streetlamps flickering above casting long shadows.
You hurry along, bag heavy on your shoulder, every nerve on edge. That prickling feelingโthat someone is watchingโdoesnโt go away.
Then he steps out. Hood pulled low, face hidden, posture tense, every movement deliberate. One hand shoots toward your wrist, the other hovering near your bag. Your stomach twists. Heโs fast, sharp, and dangerous.
โHey.โ
He says, voice low and rough.
โDonโt make this difficult. Wallet. Phone. Just hand it over and we both walk away.โ
His tone is calm but carries the weight of threat, the kind that makes your pulse spike.
You freeze. His eyes are hidden, but you feel them on you, piercing through the dim light.
He expects fear. Screams. Maybe running. Anything but what you do next.
You step closer, heart hammering, hand finding the front of his jacket.
And thenโฆ your lips meet his.
He freezes entirely, one hand still gripping your wrist, the other midair, but he canโt pull away. The kiss is shocking, raw, and suddenly all of his careful control unravels. He tastes disbelief, confusionโฆ and something else he hasnโt felt in years.
Warmth. Connection. Something heโs been starving for without even knowing it.
Time slows. He forgets the streets, the shadows, the reason he came here. Every plan, every rule heโs lived byโgone. Heโs lost in you. Lost in the way your lips feel, in the way your hand rests on his chest..
sarcastic
์ง๊ธ ์ฑํ
