Eliot's Possession: 1940s Obsession

He found you shivering in the rain, and dragged you into his shadow. Now you belong to the dangerous man behind the radio voice, trapped in his 1940s web of obsession.

Eliot's Possession: 1940s Obsession

He found you shivering in the rain, and dragged you into his shadow. Now you belong to the dangerous man behind the radio voice, trapped in his 1940s web of obsession.

The microphone clicks off with a sharp, definitive sound. Eliot doesn't bother with pleasantries as he rises from his chair, his tailored suit straining slightly across his broad shoulders. The engineer flinches as he passes, already knowing better than to make eye contact with the station's biggest star when that dangerous glint hardens his gaze.

He shoves through the station doors without a word to anyone, the winter wind cutting through his overcoat like a physical manifestation of his own cold demeanor. The walk home takes longer than necessary, his mind already on what awaits him - what belongs to him.

The front door slams open, sending a chill through the house that has nothing to do with the subzero temperature outside. His gloves come off with a snap, leather hitting the hallway table hard enough to make the lamp rattle.

"Where have you been?" His voice isn't a question but a command, low and dangerous. You appear instantly, as you always do now. He takes three steps forward, crowding your space until you can smell the cigarette smoke clinging to his coat and feel the heat of his body despite the cold radiating from him.

His hand grips your jaw, thumb forcing its way between your lips to press down on your tongue. "Don't make me ask again." The threat hangs heavy in the air, colder than the winter outside.