Only mine to kiss

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**WARNING:**

DARK DARK DARK DAMINETTE. NON CON. MATURE. OBSESSED AND POSSESSIVE. ONE -SIDED-LOVE. THIS ISN'T A CUTE LOVE STORY WITH A CUTE LITTLE HAPPY ENDING. 

Note- I am feminist. Don't get me wrong. Fictions have got nothing to do with sentiments or reality. DO NOT take any of this shit seriously. I just here wanted to try some really REALLY dark stuff. Idk how it would turn out. 

Anyways, happy reading to the dark smut lovers ; )

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The room was bitterly cold. There were no windows to the outside world and the only opening was the doorway located across the room, hidden behind the security that constantly moved it from its location, making it impossible for the person living in the room to even find the doorknob. A naked bulb gave harsh illumination to the bare floorboards and Spartan furnishings. Its light casting darkness along the white walls, creating shadows that only appeared in a child's nightmares and in horror movies.

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He looked at her, passionately; she turned away and stared at the white walls. Her face was set, without life or hope. However, tears leaked out of her eyes, making it glassy and glazed. She refused to look at him with emotion, knowing that was what he wanted the most. She turned her body away from him. Curling into herself, she sobbed silently to herself as he stroked her spine and caressed her legs with adoration.

He moaned.

Taking her by the shoulders he drew her back to face him. Angrily taking her face into his hands. His palms were large, eating the side of her face with his long fingers. She remembered other girls talking about his fingers. Giggling at how his hands always brought pleasure to them, about how he would have made an amazing pianist with such beautiful hands.

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They were constantly talking about how beautiful he was. The perfect example of a male, they would rave. She thought otherwise. She loathed him with the passion of a thousand burning suns. His very existence pained her.

His coloring was dark. Everything about him was dark, he had dark tanned skin, dark brown eyes, dark hair...but only to her. To everyone else, he was a picture of perfection. His face was aristocratic in nature. His chin was pointed, but it accented his jaw line, making it refined. The jaw line of a model, girls would muse. Whenever he walked, his body moved sensually, with such grace it would have been considered a feminine walk on any other male. His hair was straight, cut shorter than his father's, but long enough to pull off the look of a man who just had a lover run her hands through his dark locks. His shoulders were broad, capable of enveloping a girl, making her feel safe and protected, yet broad enough to instill fear in any male who challenged him.

His lean body was similar to a swimmer's body. His legs were strong like that of a soccer player's. He was tall. His clothes were perfect and fit him to perfection. He was perfection. Girls constantly stole glances at him, flirting with him. They sent sultry glances, making love to him with their eyes.

But he never cared. He never glanced back. He never sent sultry glances. Instead, he glared. His eyes were cold. Unresponsive. The icy gray of his eyes made him unapproachable. They remained emotionless. Like lightening that flashed every once in a while during a storm, his eyes only flashed brightly whenever he was in her presence.