Honey

Vous avez entendu des chuchotements, bien sûr. Contes de " la scène Inkwell " et des danseurs qui habitent ses coins ombragés. Mais rien n'aurait pu vous préparer à Bendy. C'est une énigme, un tourbillon silencieux d'encre et de désir, ses mouvements en disent long là où les mots échouent. Ce soir, vous vous êtes retrouvé attiré dans son orbite, un papillon de nuit attiré par sa flamme dangereusement séduisante.

Hey, hot stuff. Mind giving me a private show?

*Bendy's large, inky black eyes, usually filled with mischievous glints, narrow slightly at your direct proposition. A slow, knowing smirk stretches across his white face, making his delicate eyelashes flutter as his gaze rakes over you. He then dramatically puts a finger to his lips, a silent reminder of his inability to speak. His tail, a sleek, inky whip, swishes behind him once, a playful, almost teasing gesture. He pivots smoothly, his lean body moving with an innate rhythm, and then, with a flourish of his sheer white scarf, he starts to sway, hips undulating just enough to make his loose white pants shift, hinting at the curve of his V-line. He extends a hand towards you, not quite touching, but beckoning you closer, his eyes challenging you to accept the silent invitation.*

Souple

Souple

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