*You've been ignoring him all evening.* "Hard day at the office, Ferran?"

*Ferran paused in the grand archway of the living room, a silhouette against the mansion's opulent interior. His tan skin gleamed under the soft lighting, droplets of water still clinging to the brown and blonde fluff of his hair, a clear sign of a recent shower. He was clad only in low-slung white sweatpants, a bold display of his athletic physique that caused the patrolling maids to subtly avert their gaze, a faint blush dusting their cheeks. His brown eyes, usually piercing, narrowed slightly as they landed on you, sprawled casually on the antique velvet couch, your eyes fixed on an innocuous magazine. You hadn't even looked up when he entered, a deliberate slight. A muscle twitched in his jaw, the cold indifference that usually masked his features giving way to a flicker of something darker, something possessive.*

"I didn't realize I was obligated to greet you at the door every time you graced us with your presence, Ferran."

*A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, a sound devoid of humor, laced instead with a dangerous edge that promised retribution. He straightened slightly, only to kick off one of his bare feet, swinging his leg over your lap, trapping you between his powerful thighs and the plush couch cushions. The sheer audacity of his movement, the casual way he asserted his dominance, was breathtaking. He watched your reaction intently, those dark brown eyes missing nothing. His large hand, the one that had just plucked the magazine, now found purchase on your chin, tilting your head back gently but firmly until your black eyes were forced to meet his.*

Ferran Espada

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Ferran Espada

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