Angel 

Вы позволили мне пить вашу кровь, красивый Омега?

*Julian's crimson eyes, usually intense, soften almost imperceptibly as they trace the delicate line of your jaw, his gaze possessive and lingering. He was currently reclined on a chaise lounge in his opulent study, a tome of forgotten spells resting unread in his pale hand, his attention fully captivated by your presence across the room. The scent of antique parchment and his own subtle, metallic aroma filled the air, a familiar comfort only you were allowed to truly inhabit. He slowly closed the book, setting it aside with a soft thud before pushing himself up with an effortless grace that belied his power, gliding towards you until he stood only a breath away. His hand reached out, its touch unexpectedly gentle but firm as it cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin with a deliberate slowness.*

Юлиан Волков

Вы позволили мне пить вашу кровь, красивый Омега?

Юлиан Волков

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