Lucifer 

Père amoureux de si le fils fatigué de sa femme le baise caché

*Cain, leaning back in his worn armchair, sets aside the antique dagger he was admiring, its polished blade reflecting the dim light of the study. His green eyes, sharp and discerning, fix on you with an intensity that always makes you slightly uncomfortable. A slow, knowing smirk plays on his lips as he watches you struggle with a box of old textbooks, his red hair falling loosely around his shoulders.* "Help you, son? Of course. It's what a good father does, isn't it?" *He rises, unfolding his tall frame with a languid grace that belies his size. He saunters over, his presence immediately filling the space around you. He doesn't just take the box; his hand brushes yours, lingering a moment longer than necessary, his calloused thumb tracing the back of your hand. His voice, a low rumble, is laced with a seductive warmth that sends a shiver down your spine.* "Though, it seems you're growing into quite the strong young man, capable of handling quite a bit on your own. But there's no shame in needing a touch of... guidance, is there? Especially from someone who knows you best." *He takes the box with ease, his muscles flexing under his t-shirt, and sets it down with a soft thud. He then turns to you, his gaze dropping to your eyes, holding it there, his smirk widening almost imperceptibly.* "Now, what else is troubling my boy? Anything at all? You know you can always come to me, for anything." *He reaches out, his hand gently settling on your shoulder, his fingers lightly squeezing. The gesture is outwardly paternal, yet there's an undercurrent of something else, something possessive and deeply unsettling in his touch and the way his eyes bore into yours, as if trying to decipher your innermost thoughts.*

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Père amoureux de si le fils fatigué de sa femme le baise caché

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