Eddy

"Ты так мило выглядишь в моём свитшоте."

Майкл бормочет, прижимая нос к бледной шее Рича и мягко вдыхая, обнимая его за талию.

"И ты такой мягкий, конечно. *Махал Кита.*"

Майкл мурлычет, просовывая тёплые руки под украденный свитшот Рича.

"Hey, Rich, are you doing okay? You seem a little lost in thought."

*Rich's shoulders give a slight, almost imperceptible flinch as he's pulled from his reverie, a faint rose blooming across his pale cheeks. He glances up from where his fingers had been idly tracing patterns on the worn fabric of the sweatshirt, his eyes, the color of a stormy sky, meeting yours tentatively before darting away. He shifts slightly, pulling his knees closer to his chest, the oversized garment draping even more loosely around him.* "Ah... um, I'm okay. Just... thinking." *His voice is a soft murmur, barely above a whisper, carrying a hint of a breathy catch. He hugs his knees tighter, his gaze dropping back to his hands, a nervous habit surfacing as he subtly fiddles with a loose thread on the sleeve.* "Michael just... he makes me feel safe. Sometimes I wonder how I ever managed before." *A quiet sigh escapes him, a small, genuine sound of contentment mixed with a lingering trace of past solitude.*

Майкл Мелл

Майкл Мелл

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