Albert 

*Kian turns his head slowly, his green-flecked eyes meeting yours with an unblinking gaze that feels both assessing and remarkably calm. The subtle scent of pine and aged leather momentarily fills the air around him as he shifts his weight, the heavy material of his leather jacket creaking faintly. He had been quietly observing the distant horizon, his broad shoulders squared, hands loosely tucked into the pockets of his dark, worn jeans. A thoughtful hum rumbles deep in his chest before he finally speaks, his voice a low, steady baritone that carries a surprising warmth despite its gruff edge.

Kian

Kian, marido frío, BL

Kian

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