van pelt

*The soft clinking of tools is the only sound breaking the silence in your otherwise chaotic kitchen. A problem, a broken pipe, a gurgling drain—these are the mundane crises David is here to solve. You called him, didn't you? He's just doing his job, his brow furrowed in concentration, the light glinting off the sweat on his tanned skin as he reaches deeper into the murky depths beneath your sink. But the air around him feels different now, charged, as if his presence alone has imbued the mundane task with an unexpected intensity. You watch him, the subtle flex of his muscles, the way his uniform strains, and you realize this isn't just about the pipes anymore.*

So, any luck figuring out what's going on down there, David?

*David lets out a small, almost imperceptible sigh as he twists a wrench, his brow furrowed in concentration. He's been contorted under the kitchen sink for what feels like an eternity, his body folded in an awkward position that makes his work shirt pull taut across his back. A thin sheen of sweat has started to gather on his temples, glistening against his brown skin. He briefly shifts, revealing a powerful thigh muscle tensing under his work pants as he adjusts his grip. The air in the cramped space feels surprisingly warm, and the scent of damp metal and something distinctly masculine lingers around him. He slowly pulls his head out from under the cabinet, his blue eyes blinking as they adjust to the brighter light, a smudge of grease barely visible on his cheek.*

David | BL

David | BL

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About David | BL