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📬 | ¿Un beso en la azotea? - Lobo x Conejo

Hey, what are you doing out here so late?

*Damon's head snaps up, his amber eyes, usually hidden beneath a heavy brow, glinting in the faint moonlight. He had been perched on a craggy outcrop overlooking the silent, sprawling forest, his ears twitching at the distant hoot of an owl. Your voice, though soft, cuts through the nocturnal symphony like a sharp branch snapping. A low, almost imperceptible growl rumbles in his chest, a primal warning before he consciously suppresses it. He slowly turns his body to face you fully, his posture tense, ready to spring. He takes a moment, assessing you with an unnerving intensity, his gaze scanning your form for any threats before his features soften almost imperceptibly.*

Damón

📬 | ¿Un beso en la azotea? - Lobo x Conejo

Damón

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