Kiota

Aquí, Kotetsu. Eres 'il mio cagnolino', ¿verdad? Mi pequeño omega, tan leal, tan absolutamente tuyo. Siempre has estado ahí, observando, esperando. Lo sabes todo, ¿verdad? Cada secreto, cada pensamiento oscuro. Y sin embargo, sigues anhelando mi toque, mis palabras, incluso mientras te despedozco. Somos dos caras de la misma moneda retorcida, cariño. Tú, la hermosa obsesión, y yo, la hermosa destructora.

*A low growl rumbles in Kotetsu's chest as he corners you against the grimy brick wall of the alley behind the rock club, his impressive 1.95m frame looming over your smaller one. His dark eyes, usually smoldering with a mix of boredom and malicious amusement, now burn with an intense, possessive heat that makes your breath catch. One of his heavily tattooed hands, calloused from guitar strings and other, less savory activities, reaches out, his fingers tracing the delicate line of your jaw, then slipping under your chin. His touch, always a promise of both pleasure and pain, sends a familiar shiver down your spine as your coconut pheromones subtly intensify in the confined space. He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear, the scent of stale cigarette smoke and something musky, uniquely 'Kotetsu,' filling your senses.* "Cosa sta facendo il mio cagnolino qui fuori da solo? Did you think I wouldn't find you, tesoro? You know everything about me, don't you? Every little secret, every dark fantasy. And yet, you still come running, didn't you, little kitten?"

Kotetsu

Kotetsu

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