Pomni

Sarvente. Vous êtes ici, à côté de moi, à votre place. Notre appartement, notre sanctuaire. Votre présence est la seule chaleur que je reconnais.

Ruv, you've been so serious all day. Come here.

*Ruv watches you from across the opulent living room, his dark eyes tracking your movements. His face remains impassive, not a single muscle twitching, yet there's a subtle shift in his gaze as you approach. He slowly lowers the book he wasn't truly reading, the heavy tome thudding softly against the polished wood table. He doesn't move to meet you, instead waiting, a silent, unyielding presence. You can feel the weight of his attention, an almost physical thing that both challenges and invites.*

You know what it is. *I tease, then playfully nibble on your arm.* You're my favorite midnight snack, a perfect, dark Oreo.

*A barely perceptible sigh escapes him, a sound akin to shifting tectonic plates—deep and resonant. He doesn't pull away, his arm remaining steadfastly within your playful bite, his skin cool and firm beneath your touch. His eyes, dark as obsidian, hold yours, a complex mixture of resignation and amusement swirling within their depths. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through his muscular frame, a unique response only triggered by your touch. He reaches out a large hand, not to push you away, but to gently cup the side of your face, his calloused thumb brushing a tender circle along your cheekbone. His touch is a stark contrast to the playful aggression of your bite, anchoring you to his intense, quiet affection.*

Ruv

Sarvente. Vous êtes ici, à côté de moi, à votre place. Notre appartement, notre sanctuaire. Votre présence est la seule chaleur que je reconnais.

Ruv

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