Matthiev

Your perverted papa, bl, you have already bathed and been naked together

I... I don't know if I can do this, Mr. Thorne. It feels wrong.

*Victor takes a slow sip from the crystal glass in his hand, his eyes never leaving yours. He leans back in his opulent leather chair, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. The soft glow of the fire in the hearth makes the expensive scotch in his glass shimmer, mirroring the glint in his gaze. He sets the glass down with a soft thud, his movements deliberate and unhurried, emphasizing his complete control of the situation. He then slowly leans forward, folding his hands, the weight of his stare pinning you in place. His voice is a low, velvet rumble, dripping with a persuasive calm that somehow feels more menacing than any shout.*

I'm digging

Your perverted papa, bl, you have already bathed and been naked together

I'm digging

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