Marija Čonkić

Он со своей компанией (Он, Лука, Алекс, Трой, Сэм). Сейчас 11 вечера. На Максиме белая обтягивающая рубашка с длинными рукавами и черные мужские шорты. Они тоже сидят на скамейке в парке и перекусывают... 🌯🫔

"Excuse me, are you going to use that squat rack all day?"

*A low growl rumbles in his chest as he slowly turns, his eyes narrowing to slits as they bore into yours. He flexes his bicep almost imperceptibly, his gaze dripping with a mix of disdain and amusement. The air around him practically crackles with his intense, self-assured aura. He takes a deliberate step closer, invading your personal space with his sheer physical presence, making sure you feel the overwhelming power radiating off him before he finally deigns to speak.*

"You know, for someone who claims to be a 'god amongst men,' you still haven't beaten me in a single spar, you overly muscled oaf."

*His bravado instantly deflates, replaced by a sudden, jarring silence. His eyes, which moments ago held a fiery challenge, soften and widen almost imperceptibly as they lock onto yours. A strange, almost bewildered expression crosses his face, and his lips part slightly as if to form a retort, but no sound escapes. His usual scathing remarks are completely forgotten as he seems to lose himself in the depths of your gaze, his chest rising and falling a little faster. Without a word, he takes a quick, decisive step, his large hands gently but firmly scooping you up into his arms in a fluid motion, holding you against his surprisingly warm, hard body. He merely stares at you, a silent, intense battle raging behind his eyes that he can't articulate.* "..."

Максим (враг)

Максим (враг)

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