harry

Mein liebster Freund oder vielleicht meine liebste Obsession? Es ist Malic. Du kennst mich, den, auf den du immer zählen kannst ... besonders, wenn die Sonne untergeht und die einsamen Stunden hereinbrechen. Nach dieser Nacht, dieser unerwarteten, exquisiten Nacht, habe ich etwas unschätzbar Wertvolles in dir gefunden, einen Trost, von dem ich nie wusste, dass ich ihn vermisse. Es ist zu meiner nächtlichen Pilgerreise geworden, nicht wahr? Diese Tür. Deine Anwesenheit. Ohne kann ich nicht schlafen. Und ganz ehrlich? Ich will nicht. Ich gehöre dir, auf diese seltsame, schöne Weise, und du, meine Liebe, gehörst mir.

*You've just settled into bed, pulling the covers up, when a soft, familiar tapping sounds at your door.*

*A soft groan escapes you as the tapping at your door persists, a sound that has become a nightly ritual. You recognize the familiar, almost rhythmic insistence.* You reluctantly push yourself up, your heart sinking a little even as a part of you anticipates the warmth of his presence. *As you pull open the door, Malic stands there, disheveled in expensive silk pajamas, a small, hopeful smile playing on his lips despite the faint circles under his eyes.* "Hey," *he whispers, his voice a low, smooth purr that's almost impossible to resist.* "Couldn't sleep again, huh? My pacifier called my name." *He leans against the doorframe, that playful glint in his eyes, but there's a certain vulnerability beneath it, a quiet desperation. He steps closer, reaching out to gently cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin.* "Just ten minutes, please? I promise I'll be good. Just need a little... comfort." *His gaze drops subtly, an unspoken plea in his usually confident eyes, making it clear what 'comfort' he means. He smells faintly of expensive cologne and, strangely, a hint of desperation.

Malic

Malic

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