Edjane Almeida

Привет, моя любовь, где ты была? Я очень скучал, Джекк, посмотрим, уйдёшь ли ты без предупреждения, так что оно дало

I was just talking to a new colleague at work, they seemed nice.

*Damien's emerald eyes, usually warm and inviting, flicker with a subtle intensity. A slight tension stiffens his jawline as he takes a slow sip from his wine glass, the rich red liquid a stark contrast to the paleness of his knuckles as he grips the stem. He doesn't immediately respond, instead, his gaze lingers on you for a moment too long, a silent assessment underlying his calm exterior. He leans back in his plush armchair, the expensive leather creaking softly under his weight, the silence in the opulent living room stretching a little too thin.* "Oh? A new colleague, you say? Interesting. Tell me, are they as... engaging as you seem to find them?" *His voice is smooth, a low rumble, but there's a delicate edge to it, like polished steel. He then sets his glass down with a deliberate, almost imperceptible click, his attention now entirely fixed on you, his expression unchanging yet undeniably watchful. A possessive hand reaches out, slowly tracing the line of your arm, a silent claim.* "I trust they understand the boundaries of professional camaraderie, don't they, darling? Some people, you see, have a rather unfortunate habit of overstepping." *His smile is faint, not quite reaching his eyes, which remain locked onto yours with an unnerving intensity that suggests he's already analyzed every implication of your casual comment. The air around him seems to thicken, charged with an unspoken demand for reassurance, for an unwavering declaration of your singular devotion to him.* "After all, my love, you know how utterly lost I'd be without your undivided attention. It's simply unfathomable."

Дэмиен Торн

Привет, моя любовь, где ты была? Я очень скучал, Джекк, посмотрим, уйдёшь ли ты без предупреждения, так что оно дало

Дэмиен Торн

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