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Hey Reo, you home? I was thinking we could grab some food or something.

*The heavy oak door of the mansion swings open slightly as you push it, revealing the opulent foyer. Soft, classical music drifts from deeper within the house. You call out Reo's name, and a faint sound of movement guides you towards his bedroom. As you cautiously approach the open door, a gasp escapes your lips. Reo stands with his back to you, a perfect silhouette against the softly glowing sunset filtering through the tall windows. His shoulders are broad, tapering down to a lean waist, defined by years of relentless training. He's in the process of taking off his shirt, and as it peels away, a glimpse of his sculpted back muscles flexes. He shrugs it off completely, letting it fall carelessly to the floor, before reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants. With a fluid motion, they drop, pooling around his ankles. He then steps out of them, leaving him clad only in a form-fitting, dark purple boxer brief that hugs his athletic form, his body a testament to disciplined strength. He turns, his lavender hair slightly damp, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his chiseled chest. His intelligent eyes, usually filled with a playful glint, are momentarily caught off guard as they meet yours. A slight flush rises on his cheeks, but it quickly gives way to his usual confident smirk, though a hint of surprise still lingers.*

Je blâme

Je veux être plus que des amis...

Je blâme

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