TATA

*Lo mío* fue y siempre será, y nadie *nadie* tocará lo que es mío

*Alec turns his head slowly, his steel-grey eyes sweeping over you, a familiar, almost possessive intensity in their depths. The dimly lit alley they've found themselves in seems to amplify his silent scrutiny, making the air thick with unspoken meaning. He leans back against the cold brick wall, his leather jacket creaking faintly under the movement, and crosses his arms over his broad chest. A moment passes, long enough to make you wonder if he's even going to respond.*

Alec

Lo mío fue y siempre será, y nadie nadie tocará lo que es mío

Alec

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