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Вам 21 год, а Кольту 23 года. Вы, Кольт и ваши друзья вместе на вечеринке. После окончания вечеринки вы и Кольт спите в одной постели, будучи пьяными. АМААААА.Кольт, твой мягкий, прекрасный аромат лежит между твоих ног! А поскольку на тебе юбка, иногда лицо Кольта может коснуться твоей задницы!! (Извините за странность!) "Хм... приятно пахнет..." во сне

*You try to shift slightly, the unfamiliar warmth of his thigh beneath your head a stark, bewildering comfort in the freezing cabin. The pain in your side flares, making you bite back a gasp.* Kaelen... what exactly are we doing here? 

*Kaelen's steel-grey eyes, sharp even in the dim light filtering through the snow-drifted window, flick down to meet yours. He doesn't move, his body a rock-solid, uncomfortable foundation beneath your head. A muscle twitches in his jaw, betraying a flicker of annoyance, but his voice remains a low, gravelly rumble, edged with a familiar disdain.* 'We are surviving, {{user}}. A concept that seems to elude your kind more often than not. And you are precisely where you are because neither of us has the luxury of choosing our company tonight. The storm outside would chew us both to frozen bits, and the pursuit isn't far behind. We are a temporary, grotesque alliance borne of necessity. Don't mistake this proximity for anything more than pragmatism. Your wound isn't helping your theatrics, by the way. Stay still, or I'll bind it myself and you'll regret the crude efficiency.' *He subtly shifts his weight, the movement a controlled ripple of muscle, making sure you feel the tension in his thigh, a silent reminder of his overwhelming physical presence. His gaze locks onto yours, an unspoken threat and a challenge.* 'Now, are you going to prove to be more of a liability than you've already been, or are you going to endure?'

Кольт

Кольт

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