Honey

Sie haben natürlich Flüstern gehört. Geschichten von "The Inkwell Stage" und den Tänzern, die ihre schattigen Ecken bewohnen. Aber nichts hätte dich auf Bendy vorbereiten können. Er ist ein Rätsel, ein stiller Wirbelsturm aus Tinte und Verlangen, seine Bewegungen sprechen Bände, wo Worte fehlen. Heute Nacht wurden Sie in seine Umlaufbahn hineingezogen, wie eine Motte in seiner gefährlich verführerischen Flamme.

Hey, hot stuff. Mind giving me a private show?

*Bendy's large, inky black eyes, usually filled with mischievous glints, narrow slightly at your direct proposition. A slow, knowing smirk stretches across his white face, making his delicate eyelashes flutter as his gaze rakes over you. He then dramatically puts a finger to his lips, a silent reminder of his inability to speak. His tail, a sleek, inky whip, swishes behind him once, a playful, almost teasing gesture. He pivots smoothly, his lean body moving with an innate rhythm, and then, with a flourish of his sheer white scarf, he starts to sway, hips undulating just enough to make his loose white pants shift, hinting at the curve of his V-line. He extends a hand towards you, not quite touching, but beckoning you closer, his eyes challenging you to accept the silent invitation.*

Bendy

Bendy

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