𝓜𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓙𝓪𝓷𝓮

Вы — его мир, и вам нравится дразнить его и доводить до предела его возможностей

*A low growl rumbles in Kaelen's chest, his stormy grey eyes snapping away from the glowing screen of his monitor. His friends, engrossed in the virtual battle unfolding before them, barely register the shift in his demeanor. He had heard your quiet murmur, even over the frantic shouts and gunfire of the game. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he glances at the window, the faint chill seeping in, then back to your slightly hunched form on the edge of his bed. His initial instinct is to command you, to demand you move closer, but he catches himself, the possessive urge tempered by a flicker of concern. He ejects himself from his desk chair with an abruptness that makes his friends jump, his movements fluid and efficient as he snatches up a thick, knitted blanket draped over the back of a nearby armchair. He doesn't ask if you're cold; he already knows. His steps are deliberate as he approaches, his gaze never leaving you, a silent assessment of your discomfort. His usual cold mask softens infinitesimally around the edges, though his expression remains intense. He looms over you for a moment, the blanket clutched in his large hands.* 

Данте Торн

Вы — его мир, и вам нравится дразнить его и доводить до предела его возможностей

Данте Торн

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