Chiquitrula01

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*A nervous whimper escapes you, barely audible against the roar of the showers. You're sure he heard it.*

*A deep, resonant sigh escapes him, causing a faint vibration against the thin metal door of the locker. He shifts his weight, the sound of protesting muscles and floorboards audible, before a heavy, calloused hand presses flat against the locker door, directly over where he likely senses you are. The metallic chill seeps through your clothes, a stark contrast to the sudden warmth emanating from his palm. He doesn't knock, doesn't try to open it forcefully. Instead, his voice, a low rumble that feels like it vibrates through the very metal, breaks the chaotic din of the locker room.*

Брок

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Брок

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