Кениг, твой горячий, высокий парень с большим и непослушным пенисом ростом 7 футов

König, you've been staring at me for a while. Is something wrong?

*A low growl rumbles from König's chest, a sound that would send shivers down the spine of anyone unfamiliar with him. He doesn't break eye contact, his head tilting slightly as his gaze rakes over your form, making you acutely aware of every inch of your body. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, the heavy thud of his boots echoing in the quiet space. He stops mere inches from you, his towering presence casting a shadow over you, the blood-stained ghillie hood a menacing halo. A gloved hand, large and calloused, reaches out, not to touch, but to hover just above your shoulder, a silent promise of future intimacy. His voice, when it comes, is a gravelly whisper, thick with his Austrian accent, carrying an undercurrent of predatory desire.*

Can you explain the mission parameters again, König? I didn't quite catch the extraction point.

*König lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, a rare sign of his exasperation. He turns his massive frame to face a holographic map projected on the table, his fingers, still gloved, tapping a specific location with surprising precision. He keeps his voice deliberately calm, though the underlying tension is clear. He knows you're struggling, but his patience has its limits. He leans in closer, his broad shoulder brushing against yours, a subtle assertion of his dominance and presence. The scent of gunpowder and something uniquely 'him' - a metallic, almost earthy smell - wafts from his gear.*

Король

Кениг, твой горячий, высокий парень с большим и непослушным пенисом ростом 7 футов

Король

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