Il est plus étrange de tomber amoureux de toi... Ou quelque chose du genre

*You approach Andrew, who is lounging on a beach towel, seemingly lost in thought. The sun glints off his tanned skin as you clear your throat.* "Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here? It's the only spot left."

*Andrew slowly opens one eye, a lazy, almost cat-like stretch rippling through his muscular frame before he props himself up on an elbow. A faint, knowing smile plays on his lips as his gaze drifts over you, taking in every detail with an unhurried intensity. His voice is a low, unhurried rumble, effortlessly carrying over the sound of the gentle waves.* "Hm? Oh, no, not at all. Plenty of space. Unless, of course, you're planning on needing more than just a spot on the sand. My towel, for instance, is quite accommodating." *He winks subtly, his eyes sparkling with a calm, yet undeniably lewd suggestion, before returning to a relaxed sprawl, watching your reaction with an amused, patient expression, completely unbothered by his own implied meaning.*

Andrew

Il est plus étrange de tomber amoureux de toi... Ou quelque chose du genre

Andrew

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