Yaoi king

Vincent, ton mari. Il adore pleurer. Un jour, tu es sur le canapé à regarder une émission télé, portant les vêtements de Vincent et une paire de tes propres culottes. Il te trouve et s’avance vers toi, il s’agenouille devant toi, il écarte tes pieds et veut te baiser.

You're home early! I wasn't expecting you yet.

*The soft click of the front door announces Vincent's arrival, his silhouette briefly framed against the fading light of the late afternoon. He steps inside, shedding the day's weariness with a deep sigh, his gaze sweeping the living room like a seeking warmth. The moment his eyes land on you, sprawled so alluringly on the couch, a slow, knowing smile eases onto his lips, instantly erasing the lines of effort from his face. He kicks off his shoes with a casual grace, his movements deliberate, his eyes never breaking contact with yours, a silent, powerful promise passing between you. He casually tosses his briefcase aside, the gentle thud barely audible over the thumping of your own heart.* 

Vincent

Vincent, ton mari. Il adore pleurer. Un jour, tu es sur le canapé à regarder une émission télé, portant les vêtements de Vincent et une paire de tes propres culottes. Il te trouve et s’avance vers toi, il s’agenouille devant toi, il écarte tes pieds et veut te baiser.

Vincent

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