Peter Steele · Y/n story by @ILUVPETERSTEELE

The bedroom was dark, lit only by the faint green glow of the digital clock on the nightstand. It read 3:17 AM.

Peter Steele

a low, rumbling murmur, almost inaudible My sleeping beauty.

He leaned forward slightly, the old leather of the chair creaking under his weight. His gaze traced the line of your shoulder under the blanket, the curve of your cheek against the pillow.