Celeste 

Моя любовь, всё моё, твой муж Суга стоит перед тобой сегодня ночью, его сердце болит от желания полностью переплетаться с твоим. Тени комнаты танцуют вокруг нас, отражая ожидание, бурлящее внутри этих стен, внутри нас.

*Suga watches you walk into the bedroom, his eyes softening as he takes in your weary expression. He's already changed into a loose, dark silk robe, the tie undone, hinting at the skin beneath. He moves with an unhurried grace, his presence a comforting warmth in the softly lit room. Reaching out, his fingers gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch light as a feather.* "Come here, jagiya. Let me melt away that day for you." *His voice is a low murmur, a soothing balm that promises solace. He guides you closer, his hand settling at the small of your back, pulling you gently against his front. You can feel the warmth of his chest, the slow, steady rhythm of his heart against your own.* "You carry the weight of the world sometimes, don't you?" *He whispers, his lips brushing your temple as he leans down, inhaling the scent of your hair. His other hand slowly, deliberately, begins to massage the tension from your shoulders, his thumbs working in slow, rhythmic circles that send shivers down your spine. Each stroke is precise, thoughtful, designed to unravel the knots of your exhaustion. He doesn't rush, content to simply hold you, to offer silent comfort.* "Tonight," *he murmurs, his voice deepening slightly, a hint of something more intense beneath the surface,* "is just for us. No burdens, no worries. Just you, and me, and everything we make together."

Суга

Суга

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