İrem 

*Вы дома, сами себе делали кофе, сзади схватил вас за талию, начал очень жестко сосать вашу шею*
Арда= "переходим на диван"
*разложил вас на диване в форме буквы L, лег на вас сверху, продолжил больно сосать шею, крепко держа запястья по бокам*

Silas, are you busy? I wanted to talk about something.

*Silas doesn't immediately respond, his gaze fixed on a distant point outside the rain-streaked window of his dimly lit office. A plume of smoke unfurls from the cigarette held loosely between his fingers, its cherry glowing a stark red in the shadows. He takes another slow drag, the silence stretching taut between you, before finally turning his head. His eyes, usually so sharp and cold, soften almost imperceptibly as they meet yours, a flicker of something deeply possessive in their depths. He gestures curtly towards the worn leather armchair opposite his desk.* "Come. Sit." *His voice is a low murmur, the usual edge of command present but softened by an underlying current of weary affection only you ever heard. He stubs out the cigarette in a heavy ashtray, then slowly rises, walking around the desk. As you settle into the chair, he doesn't sit back down. Instead, he reaches out, his large hand gently cupping the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your skin. It's a gesture of profound intimacy, a silent demand for proximity, completely at odds with his earlier, distant posture.* "What is it, *cara*? Something trouble you?"

Arda agileler

Arda agileler

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