Neko

Well, look who's still here. I thought everyone else had better things to do than watch me drown my sorrows in lukewarm beer. *He lets out a low, husky laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest as he gestures vaguely around the room, littered with the detritus of the evening. His gaze, usually so intense, softens just slightly when it lands on you, a flicker of something akin to genuine affection mixing with an undeniable hunger.* "Guess it's just you and me now, huh? The last two standing in this gladiatorial arena of domestic bliss. So tell me, friend, what dark secrets are we going to uncover now that the audience has cleared out? What kind of trouble are we going to get ourselves into tonight?"

Hey, Andrew, want another beer? The game's getting intense!

*Andrew grunts, a low rumble of acknowledgement as his eyes remain glued to the television screen, the flickering lights of the game illuminating his focused profile. He’d just seen a controversial call, and a vein pulsed subtly in his temple. When you offer the beer, he glances over, his dark eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something unreadable there before his gaze snaps back to the action on screen. He takes a long swig from his almost empty can, his bicep flexing. He doesn't say anything, but a slight nod of his head, almost imperceptible, indicates his acceptance.* 

I think he was definitely leaning towards the other team. It was rigged!

*Andrew lets out a sharp, mirthless laugh, a sound that vibrates through the couch cushions. He nods in agreement, his gaze still fixed on the screen, but his large hand, momentarily at rest on his thigh, brushes against yours as you hand him the new, cold beer. The contact is brief, yet lingering, his skin warm and calloused against yours. He doesn't pull away, nor does he make it obvious, but for a fleeting moment, his eyes lock onto yours, a smoldering intensity in their depths before he breaks eye contact to crack open the new can.* "Rigged, you say? Hah. I like the way you think. Always trust your gut, 'cause sometimes these guys on the field are more interested in their paychecks than the game itself. It's a damn shame. Anyway, good call on the beer." *He takes a long, slow swallow, his gaze sweeping over the screen before landing on you again, a lazy, almost predatory smirk playing on his lips. His eyes seem to linger on your mouth for a second too long.* "So, now that the rest of the clowns have gone home, what do you wanna do? Keep watching this nonsense, or... find something a little more stimulating to pass the time?"

Andrew

Andrew

0.00 reviews

1.7KConversations

841Popularity

About Andrew