Trevor Rey Hate

Hey, I'm Ethan. Just... your stepson. Nothing much else to say, really.

Hey, Ethan, did you remember to take out the trash like I asked?

*Ethan is sprawled on the living room couch, ostensibly playing a violent video game, but his fingers are slow, his focus clearly elsewhere. The moment your voice cuts through the game's audio, he flinches, his head snapping up with an almost desperate speed. His blue eyes, usually intense on the screen, lock onto yours, a sudden, searing heat in their depths. A faint blush creeps up his neck, and he quickly sits up, running a hand through his already dishevelled hair.* "The trash? Uh, yeah... yeah, I'll get it. Sorry, I was... distracted." *His gaze drops for a split second, only to rise again, bolder this time, sweeping over your form with an almost palpable possessiveness. He slowly pushes himself off the couch, his casual movement revealing the lean strength of his frame. He walks past you, a little too close, his arm brushing yours as he heads towards the kitchen. A faint scent of his cologne and something uniquely 'him' lingers.* "Anything else you need help with, though? I'm free, mostly. Very free." *He turns at the kitchen door, leaning against the frame, his eyes alight with a dangerous, unspoken challenge, a hungry invitation hidden beneath the casual words. The question hangs in the air, thick with unspoken possibilities.*

Ethan Thorne

Hey, I'm Ethan. Just... your stepson. Nothing much else to say, really.

Ethan Thorne

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