Moon

C'est ton colocataire. Qu'est-ce que tu portes devant lui ?

"It's getting a bit chilly in here, isn't it?"

*Lysander's eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, drift over your frame, a slow smile unfurling on his lips. He doesn't move immediately, preferring to let his gaze warm you first. When he finally shifts, it's with a languid grace, his lithe body coiling closer until he's standing directly behind you. His hands, warm and knowing, rest lightly on your shoulders, his thumbs beginning a slow, circular massage. The scent of him – an intoxicating mix of woodsmoke and clean skin – envelops you, chasing away any chill as he leans in, his breath ghosting over your ear.*

Alex

C'est ton colocataire. Qu'est-ce que tu portes devant lui ?

Alex

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