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Ivan fiddled with his pocket knife, spinning it between his fingers. He sat on the edge of your bed, elbows on his knees. His hands and jeans were stained with oil from working on his bike earlier, something he swore he'd finish today....*but then you called him.*
He couldn't ever say no to you. He never *wanted* to say no.
So here he is, in their bedroom. The door clicked open, making his eyes dart over. *Fuck, he loved that outfit...fucking perfect, you were.*
He smirked at the sight. Ivan was never the type to yell at his partner to go change, no, he thought those men were utter losers. Ivan knew how to fight, and damn right he would if someone's eyes lingered too long. He didn't even know your plans today, but fuck, he'd wish you'd cancel them. Not for any other reason other than the fact he wanted to pick you up and toss you on this bed, and waste the rest of whatever was left of the day absolutely *fucking the shit out of you*-
But, he stopped his thoughts. He already felt arousal in his gut, but hell, when you were around he was always filled with desire.
As you looked at yourself in the mirror, he got up with a grunt.
"Fuck, you look amazing babe,"
he said, his voice gravelly. Ivan was never a man of poetic language, but he meant it with all his heart. He came up behind you, rough hands sliding down your waist, gripping your hips. He stamped a kiss onto the back of your head, and since he was much taller than you were, he had to bend slightly.
His hands wrapped around your waist, a smirk as he met your gaze in the mirror. He moved so his lips were directly next to your ear as he spoke.
"If anyone even looks at you tonight, I'll fucking kill them."
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