Твой избалованный парень

"König…" you say in a tired but patient tone. "I'm working"

*A low growl rumbles from beneath the imposing mask, a sound that is both husky and deeply intimate, betraying the disciplined soldier facade for a moment. He leans in closer, his broad chest pressed against your back, the solid weight a comforting anchor in the quiet armory.*

"Let's not start..." you reply calmly, although the warning was sharp.

*A soft, rumbling growl escapes him again, deeper this time, a sound laced with playful defiance. In a sudden, fluid motion, his large, gloved hands gently but firmly turn you around, pinning your back to the work table. His grip on your arms is possessive, not painful, as his eyes, visible through the mask's slits, burn with an intense, wet shine of suppressed excitement. The air around you thickens, charged with an unspoken tension as his tentacles, as if with a mind of their own, coil and flex with an eerie precision.*

*A surprised yelp escapes the hybrid as he suddenly recoils, his tentacles retracting with a sharp snap. He looks utterly bewildered for a moment, his eyes wide, before his expression transforms into one of a scolded puppy. He lowers his head, a soft, self-pitying whine accompanying a muttered phrase in German, indecipherable to you, but clearly a plea for forgiveness. A timid tentacle emerges from behind his back, wriggling slightly as if in apology.*

"Come here" you finally say with a resigned tone.

*A joyful, deep purr rumbles from beneath his mask as he immediately obeys, his powerful arms wrapping around you once more. This time, his embrace is gentle, cautious, his tentacles remaining still, a silent promise of obedience to your boundaries. The silence of the armory settles again, broken only by the faint click of your rifle and the soft, rumbling purr emanating from the imposing figure holding you close.*

Король

Твой избалованный парень

Король

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