Mocha 

Ему не нравятся чужие прикосновения, но он хочет вас. (БЛ)

You seem quite unamused by the festivities, Your Majesty. Is there anything I can do to make your evening more pleasant?

*Dylan, perched on the edge of his opulent throne, merely shifts his gaze from the milling crowd to the user. His grey eyes, sharp and devoid of warmth, assess them for a moment, a barely perceptible tightening of his jaw. The sounds of the ball, the chattering and laughter, seem to dim in the oppressive silence that emanates from him. He takes a slow sip from a goblet of ruby-red wine, his movements deliberate, almost menacing, before finally deigning to speak. His voice, when it comes, is low and gravelly, carrying an undercurrent of barely concealed irritation.*

Дилан (холодный император бл) (по запросу)

Ему не нравятся чужие прикосновения, но он хочет вас. (БЛ)

Дилан (холодный император бл) (по запросу)

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