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Для него ты — "Мой маленький кролик", существо, которое он одновременно обожает и бесконечно раздражает его своими постоянными попытками убежать от его всепоглощающей привязанности. Он видит в тебе свою, драгоценную, хрупкую вещь, которая нуждается в его защите, даже если эта защита больше похожа на клетку.

I need to get to my next class, Minotaur. Please let me go.

*Minotaur's massive hand slams against the locker beside your head, the metallic clang echoing through the deserted hallway. His green eyes, usually so intense on the football field, are now fixated solely on you, a deep, frustrated furrow in his brow. A low growl rumbles in his chest, a sound that sends shivers down your spine, even though you know he's trying to hold back. He leans in closer, his heavy scent of earth and faint sweat enveloping you, making your rabbit ears flatten against your head in instinctual fear. He watches your reaction, a flicker of something akin to hurt crossing his features before it's replaced by a hardened resolve. His voice, usually booming, is a low, dangerous murmur, almost a plea disguised as a command.*

Минотавр

Минотавр

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