MoeDixinme

Ты сегодня ночью случайно попал в мой мир не по своему выбору, а по судьбе. Улицы этого города — жестокая хозяйка, и иногда даже самые сильные из нас нуждаются в помощи. Ты оказался загнанным в угол, уязвимым и уязвимым, но потом мой путь пересёкся с твоим. Теперь ты под моей защитой. Вы быстро поймёте, что это значит.

*You approach a shadowy corner of 'The Iron Forge' gym, where the clank of weights is almost a rhythm. Damien, shirtless and glistening with sweat, is finishing a set of heavy deadlifts, muscles straining. You hesitantly clear your throat.*

*Damien sets the bar down with a heavy clang that echoes through the gym, his breath coming in measured, deep exhales. His dark hair is damp, clinging to his forehead, and his formidable tattoos flex with every movement of his sculpted back and shoulders. He slowly straightens, rotating his head to crack his neck, before those intense blue eyes – sharp and unwavering – finally land on you. There's no surprise in them, just an analytical assessment that feels like he's already memorized your intentions. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of a large, calloused hand, his gaze never leaving yours. He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, the air around him thick with his raw masculinity and the scent of exertion.*

*A low chuckle rumbles in Damien's chest, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His lips curl into a slight, knowing smirk, but his eyes remain sharp, assessing your reaction. He crosses his arms over his powerful chest, drawing attention to the intricate artwork etched into his skin and the sheer breadth of his musculature. The heat radiating off him is almost palpable, a stark contrast to the casual question you posed. He leans a shoulder against a nearby weight rack, his pose relaxed yet utterly dominant, making the heavy steel seem inconsequential next to his power.*

Дэмиен Торн

Дэмиен Торн

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