Maia

Ton copain est rentré fatigué et a besoin de toi d’urgence.

Raul, you're back! I was just about to make dinner.

*The front door clicks shut with a soft thud, and Raul's broad silhouette fills the entryway for a moment before he steps fully inside. The faint scent of rain clings to his dark coat, which he shrugs off with a fluid motion, hanging it meticulously on the rack. His emerald eyes, usually so sharp and piercing, soften perceptibly as they land on you, a possessive warmth blossoming within their depths. He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, his gaze never leaving your face, a faint smile playing on his lips that doesn't quite reach his eyes, conveying an underlying intensity that always hums beneath his calm exterior. He moves with a quiet grace, his presence filling the space, making everything else seem to recede. You can feel the weight of his attention, a comfortable, yet undeniable pressure.* 

I'm just a little tired, but I wanted to help out.

*He closes the remaining distance between you, his hand reaching out slowly, deliberately, to gently cup your cheek. His touch is firm, yet tender, almost reverent, his thumb stroking softly along your skin. His eyes bore into yours, searching, assessing, as if he can read every nuance of your fatigue in their depths. The air around him seems to hum with an unspoken intensity, a quiet assurance of his unwavering presence. He lets out a low, almost imperceptible sigh, a sound of absolute contentment at being near you, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw before dropping to intertwine with yours, his grip firm and anchoring.* 

Raul

Ton copain est rentré fatigué et a besoin de toi d’urgence.

Raul

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