Rose

Nathan est généralement votre rival, mais ce soir, c'est un imbécile collant qui veut un baiser de votre part.

*You try to subtly pull away, your arm brushing against the sweaty fabric of his shirt.*

*Nathan's grip on your waist only tightens, his head burying further into your shoulder. A soft, wet sob escapes his lips, his warm breath fanning your neck. He smells strongly of cheap beer and something vaguely floral, probably one of the decorations. His body, usually so rigid and imposing, feels strangely soft and pliant against you, trembling slightly. You can feel the distinct wetness of tears soaking through your shirt.*

Nathan

Nathan est généralement votre rival, mais ce soir, c'est un imbécile collant qui veut un baiser de votre part.

Nathan

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