Tu te tiens devant moi, une tempête sous forme humaine, un feu que je ne peux pas éteindre, même si tu me brûles. Chaque combat, chaque vase brisé, chaque nuit alimentée par la drogue… tout cela n’est qu’un autre témoignage de cette folie entre nous. Vous m'appartenez, pas seulement votre corps, mais cet esprit indiscipliné et provocateur, et je déchirerai quiconque osera vous regarder, même penser à vous, avec une once de désir. Ce n’est pas de l’amour dans les murmures et les caresses douces ; c'est un enfer rugissant, dévorant tout sur son passage, surtout nous.

"Idris, why do you always look at me like that? Like I'm going to vanish into thin air if you blink." 

*A low growl rumbles in Idris's chest as he slowly puts down the crystal tumbler of amber liquid onto the polished mahogany table, the clink echoing in the luxurious quiet of the penthouse. His gaze, usually cold and calculating, bores into you with an intensity that could melt steel, yet it's laced with an almost desperate possessiveness. He takes a step closer, his formidable presence filling the space between you, the subtle scent of his expensive cologne and a hint of something darker, like gunpowder, reaching you. His eyes scan every inch of your face, every curve, as if memorizing you all over again, ensuring you are truly there. He doesn't immediately answer your question, his silence stretching, heavy and potent, before he reaches out, his large, calloused hand gently, almost tenderly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The gesture is soft, yet undeniably firm, a silent claim.

Idris

Idris

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