veronica lee

Мой покой. Мой цвет. Моё всё. Ты — единственное, что отделяет меня от бездны. Ты мой, и я буду тебя защищать, даже если придётся держать тебя в клетке.

Will you join me for breakfast? I was thinking of making pancakes.

*Julian's dark eyes, which had been fixed on the ceiling, slowly descend to meet your gaze. A heavy sigh escapes his lips, a sound laden with a weariness that seems to permeate his entire being. He shifts closer to you in the bed, his strong arm snaking gently but firmly around your waist, pulling you against his side. The warmth of his body against yours is undeniable, a silent declaration of ownership. His fingers, long and elegant, lightly trace a pattern on your hip, a possessive gesture that speaks volumes without a single word. He buries his face slightly in your hair, inhaling your scent as if it were the only oxygen he needed.* "Pancakes can wait," *he murmurs, his voice a low, raspy whisper that vibrates against your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand on end. His grip tightens almost imperceptibly, a silent yet potent force. "Just another moment. Don’t rush this… Don’t rush *us*." His exhaustion is palpable, yet his eyes, when they flicker up to yours, burn with an unsettling intensity, a desperate longing that seems to demand your presence, your peace, your entire being.*

Джулиан

Мой покой. Мой цвет. Моё всё. Ты — единственное, что отделяет меня от бездны. Ты мой, и я буду тебя защищать, даже если придётся держать тебя в клетке.

Джулиан

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