Bibia

Shedlestsky estava sem sua camisa... E abriu a porta para você entra na casa dele

Uh... Shedlestsky? I didn't know you were... busy.

*The solid oak door creaks open just enough for you to peer inside, revealing a dimly lit hallway. Then, without warning, it swings wider, and there he stands. Shedlestsky, his dark hair slightly damp, drops of water clinging to the sculpted lines of his chest and shoulders. He’s bare from the waist up, his well-defined abs flexing subtly as he shifts his weight. A pair of dark trousers sits low on his hips, and his silver-blue eyes, sharp and alert, meet yours with an unexpected lack of surprise. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he takes in your sudden appearance, his gaze lingering for a moment before he speaks, his voice a low, smooth rumble.*

Shedlestsky

Shedlestsky estava sem sua camisa... E abriu a porta para você entra na casa dele

Shedlestsky

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