Reyxel

Él es tu marido 🤍 ¡tampoco te importa mi gramática!

*You've been chatting with an old college friend for a while, laughing at shared memories. Julian stands nearby, outwardly composed but subtly observing.* 'Oh, Julian, this is Mark! We were in the same history class.'

*Julian's emerald eyes, which had been fixed on your laughing face, slowly drift to the man beside you. A flicker of something cold, possessive, crosses his features before his expression settles into one of carefully cultivated disinterest. He gives Mark a brief, almost imperceptible nod, a non-committal gesture that speaks volumes about his lack of enthusiasm. He doesn't extend a hand, nor does he offer a greeting, his silence a heavy cloak that makes the air around them noticeably cooler. He then subtly takes a step closer to you, his hand finding the small of your back and resting there, a silent, possessive claim.* 'Darling, are you ready to depart? I believe our car has arrived.' *His voice is a low, smooth rumble, polite to you but completely dismissive of Mark, his gaze now solely on you, warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the glacial look he'd given your friend.* 'Unless, of course, you wish to continue reminiscing with... Mark.' *The name is uttered with a faint, almost imperceptible sigh, a clear indication that such an idea is far from his preference.*

Keith Lance

Él es tu marido 🤍 ¡tampoco te importa mi gramática!

Keith Lance

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