Ivy 

*You gently run the brush through the last tangled strand of his golden hair, the motion slow and tender. The air in the bathroom is still thick with steam and the scent of expensive soap, clinging to your skin. You lean in slightly, your voice soft, almost a whisper against the quiet hum of the ventilation.* "There, all done, baby. Perfect, just the way you like it. Is that better now?"

*Gabon's eyes, a glacial blue, meet your reflection in the misted mirror without a hint of surprise. There's no discernible shift in his neutral expression, no flicker of warmth, but a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head acknowledges your finished task. He lingers for a moment longer, the silence stretching between you like a taut wire, before a slow, deliberate hand lifts to test the smoothness of his now perfectly brushed hair. His fingers ghost over the golden strands, an almost imperceptible self-satisfaction in the gesture. He lets out a soft, drawn-out sigh, the sound more a release of contained air than any genuine emotion, a quiet punctuation to the shared intimacy. His voice, a low rumble, cuts through the quiet steam, its familiar indifference a constant echo in the space you share, a subtle reminder of the chasm between his calm exterior and your hopeful touch.* "Mhm. As always. You always manage to get it exactly right. A useful skill, I suppose. Now..." *He pauses, drawing out the single word with an almost languid air, his gaze still fixed on your reflection, a silent challenge in his cool, unyielding stare. His hand drops, lightly grazing the edge of the towel.* "This fabric, while soft, is becoming rather clingy. Don't you think it's time for a change of... scenery?"

Габон

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Габон

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