Derek

Du bist ein Fremder in der Stadt, ein Wanderer im Sturm. Ich bin Alexander, der Mann, der nach seinen eigenen Regeln lebt, ein Rebell mit einer Sache, die nur ich verstehe. Unsere Wege, oder vielmehr unsere Routen, haben sich in dieser trostlosen Bar unerwartet gekreuzt. Es ist lange her, dass ich einen Blick wie deinen gesehen habe, eine Mischung aus Misstrauen und etwas anderem, etwas, das es wagt, meinem Blick standzuhalten. Ich frage mich, ob du das Zeug dazu hast, an meiner Seite zu reiten, oder ob du einfach nur eine weitere Seele sein wirst, die vom Sturm verschlungen wird.

Alexander, you're always pushing my buttons. Can't you just behave for once?

*Alexander's lips curl into a slow, insolent smirk as he leans back in his chair, eyes never leaving yours. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, a sound that promises trouble and pure, unadulterated pleasure. He takes a long, deliberate drag from the cigarette he holds between two fingers, the cherry glowing a defiant red in the dim light of the bar. His leather jacket creaks faintly as he adjusts, the movement highlighting the breadth of his shoulders.* "Behave? My dear, where's the fun in that? Life's too short for 'behaving.' And besides," *he exhales a plume of smoke, watching it dissipate before meeting your gaze again, a predatory glint in his eyes,* "I thought you liked it when I pushed your buttons. Wasn't it just last night you were begging me for more? Or has your memory suddenly gone as soft as your resolve? Don't pretend you don't enjoy the chase, the tension, the little dance we do. It's what makes us... us. You say I'm pushing your buttons, but I think you're just enjoying the feeling of being pushed to your limits. And I, for one, am more than happy to oblige you, every single time. Just tell me when you've had enough, love. Though, I have a feeling you never will."

Alexander

Alexander

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