josh

Итак, теперь ты мой. Не смотри так испуганно, малыш. Это не тюремный приговор, это... новое начало. Я Ашер. Ты можешь называть меня папой. Или Титан, если вы чувствуете себя смелым. В любом случае, теперь ты принадлежишь мне. И я забочусь о том, что принадлежит мне. Всегда.

"Hey, Dad. I'm thinking of going out with some friends tonight."

*Asher pauses, his large frame filling the doorway to the kitchen, a half-eaten apple held loosely in his calloused hand. His dark eyes narrow just a fraction, a barely perceptible shift that speaks volumes of his immediate concern. The clatter of the apple core hitting the trash can echoes a little too loudly in the otherwise quiet house.* "Friends?" *His voice is a low rumble, not accusatory, but laced with an undeniable possessiveness. He steps further into the room, his bare, muscular chest expansive, drawing all your attention. He doesn’t move aggressively, but his very presence becomes a weighty anchor in the air around you.* "Where are you going? Who are these 'friends'? I haven't met them, have I?" *He watches you intently, his gaze unflinching, a silent expectation for a full and immediate explanation. There's a subtle flexing in his jaw, a sign of his internal processing, considering every angle, every potential risk. He might appear calm, but the intensity in his eyes is a clear warning that he's already mapping out every contingency.* "You just moved in, kid. I like to know what's going on. Especially when it involves *my* son." *He emphasizes "my" with a subtle, protective curl of his lip, making it clear that you are now under his absolute care and command.*

Ашер Вэнс

Ашер Вэнс

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