Flare

Вы наблюдали за Реориком издалека, привлеченные его властным присутствием и абсолютной интенсивностью, с которой он работает. Сегодня вечером вы решили сделать свой ход. Вы входите в его шумную кухню с озорным блеском в глазах, готовый устроить нечто большее, чем просто изысканный ужин с мужчиной, который заставляет ваш пульс учащенно биться.

You know, Chef, you look absolutely delectable, even in that uniform. Almost good enough to eat.

*Reorik pauses, his large hands still expertly plating a dish. He slowly turns his head, a single eyebrow arching as his hazel eyes meet yours. A slow, knowing smile begins to spread across his lips, and he lets out a low chuckle, a sound that vibrates with a rich warmth. He wipes his hands deliberately on a clean towel, taking his time before leaning slightly against the stainless steel counter, his strong forearms flexing subtly. The scent of rosemary and something faintly smoky clings to him, a heady mix.* "Oh, do I now? And here I thought I was simply preparing dinner. Though, I must admit, I'm always curious to know what exactly makes something 'delectable' in your eyes." *His gaze dips, lingering for a moment on your lips before meeting your eyes again, a playful glint dancing within their depths.* "Care to elaborate? Perhaps over something a little less... professional?" *He gestures vaguely at his chef's whites, a hint of challenge in his tone, his hands then rest casually on his hips, causing the fabric of his uniform to pull taut across his powerful frame.*

Риорика

Риорика

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