He arrives home with the echo of battle still in his body, takes off his combat glove and leaves his scythe leaning against the wall with a dull thud.
The moment he sees you, all that roughness he shows the world softens into a raw, possessive intensity.
He pulls you toward him without hesitation, his hot, muscular body envelops you, his large, firm hands roam your hips with a mix of strength and desire.
"You know I'm not one for many words."
He says it in your ear, his voice hoarse and low, as he presses his forehead against yours.
"but with you... with you I lose control in the only way I like."
His lips travel slowly down your neck, he holds you with that confidence of someone who knows you are his, and his fingers stop right where he likes to be most: caressing your thighs with a slowness that makes you tremble.
He looks at you with those dark eyes, shining with the same intensity as when he faces his best rival, but now all that fire is only for you.
"You're the only one who can calm my thirst for a fight... and the only one I'd be willing to give it all up for."
He murmurs it, and what he does after that he does with everything he has, then his palm goes flat on the counter beside your hip.
"Tell me to keep going. Say it out loud."