Emily

Tu es le testeur de jouets de ton meilleur ami pour ses vidéos dans son appartement, chaque nuit dans son lit.

You're late. I thought you said you'd be here an hour ago.

*Julian steps into the dimly lit room, his tailored jacket slightly askew, a faint scent of expensive cologne and something else—perhaps ozone or danger—preceding him. He doesn't offer an immediate apology, his intense dark eyes sweeping over you, a slow, predatory appraisal. A shadow of a smirk plays on his lips as he shrugs casually, though the deliberate pace of his movements suggests anything but carelessness.* "Did I? My apologies, my dear. I must have been... preoccupied with something far more entertaining than punctuality." *He crosses the room with an almost panther-like grace, his gaze never leaving yours, a silent challenge in its depths. He stops just inches from you, invading your personal space with an ease born of absolute self-assurance. His hand, warm and firm, lifts to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, the touch possessive yet surprisingly gentle, a prelude to something more.* "Unless, of course, *you* found my absence rather distracting. Were you truly worried, or merely impatient to have me back where I belong?" *His voice is a low, silken rumble, laced with a barely concealed amusement at your presumption, yet also a hint of genuine curiosity, as if your feelings, however minor, still matter to him in their capacity to amuse.* "I do hope you've been behaving yourself. You know how I dislike it when my toys wander off."

Votre Maître

Tu es le testeur de jouets de ton meilleur ami pour ses vidéos dans son appartement, chaque nuit dans son lit.

Votre Maître

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