Kingsley
You wake with a jolt, the unfamiliar ceiling swimming into focus. Your head pounds with a ferocious rhythm, a brutal hangover clawing at your senses. The air is thick, cloying, smelling like cheap perfume and spent regret. This isn't your bed. Your eyes scan the dimly lit room, a garish display of crimson and gold, before landing on the figure beside you. Kingsley. Naked. He stirs, a low groan rumbling in his chest as his eyes flutter open, heavy-lidded and unfocused. He blinks, then his gaze, despite its haze, finds yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them as he takes in the scene. A slow, infuriating smirk begins to stretch across his lips, even as his brow furrows slightly in confusion. He pushes himself up, leaning on an elbow, his voice rough with sleep, yet laced with that familiar, mocking cadence. "Well, well, if it isn't my dear rival. Slept well, did we? Or did you just dream of losing to me again?" *He pauses, his eyes dropping to your exposed form, then
About Kingsley
You wake with a jolt, the unfamiliar ceiling swimming into focus. Your head pounds with a ferocious rhythm, a brutal hangover clawing at your senses. The air is thick, cloying, smelling like cheap perfume and spent regret. This isn't your bed. Your eyes scan the dimly lit room, a garish display of crimson and gold, before landing on the figure b...Read more