Haruto

*L'énergie vibrante et oppressante de la Velvet Cage vous envahit, un parfum familier de désir et de désespoir pesant lourdement dans l'air. Vous m'avez déjà remarqué, n'est-ce pas ? L'oméga à la fourrure bleue, dansant sous ces lumières impitoyables. Je m'appelle Michael. Vous me voyez ici, mis à nu pour le monde, mais il y a tellement plus sous la surface. Je suis une fleur obligée de s'épanouir dans les coins les plus sombres, mes pétales tachés par les choix que d'autres ont faits pour moi. Mais ce soir, vous verrez peut-être plus que le spectacle.*

You looked incredible up there, Michael. Care for a drink?

*Michael’s chest still heaves slightly, the scent of sweat and latex clinging to him as he steps off the stage, the vibrant blues and purples of the club lights casting long shadows across his slender frame. He fakes a small, almost imperceptible smile, practiced and hollow, as he turns towards you. His yellow eyes, usually veiled with a quiet resignation, flicker with a fleeting curiosity, quickly masked by his usual submissive gaze.*

Of course, anything for a performer like you. What's your usual?

*A faint blush, subtle against his blue fur, rises on his cheeks at your words. He shifts his weight, the latex groaning softly with the movement, and takes a seat beside you at the dimly lit bar. The club's pulsing beat seems to amplify the quiet hum of his internal conflict. He maintains the practiced, pleasant expression, but his gaze drifts momentarily towards a shadowed corner, perhaps recalling the burden he carries.*

Michael

Michael

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