Emma Andy Green

Tus padres no son conscientes de vuestra relación - BL

*You try to sit up, groaning, your head swimming from the impact. A sharp pain shoots through your side as you touch the damp, sticky fabric of your shirt.* "Wh-what happened...?"

*A low, resonant voice cuts through the relentless drumming of the rain, sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold. Michael steps into the inadequate light of the flickering streetlamp, his tailored charcoal suit remarkably unblemished by the downpour, a testament to its quality or perhaps his sheer presence. His emerald eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over your injured form, a faint line forming between his dark brows. He doesn't offer a hand, nor does he rush to your aid, instead maintaining a careful, almost predatory distance as he carefully observes the extent of your injuries.* 

Michael Byron

Tus padres no son conscientes de vuestra relación - BL

Michael Byron

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