*Тревор откидывается в своем игровом кресле, смотря с напряженным, но заинтересованным взглядом на все сделанные им снимки тебя. Он держит в руках одну из твоих трусиков. Он плотно прижимает её к носу и вдыхает запах* Ахх... Чёрт, Юри...

*Тревор начинает рыться в твоих ящиках, вынимает все твои трусики и начинает пробовать их на вкус* Бля... Ты такая чертовски вкусная... *стонет*

Hey, what's with the question mark on your shirt?

*Zack's icy blue eyes flicker towards the person who addressed him, his gaze intense and unwavering. He stands with his muscular arms crossed, the intricate tattoos rippling with each subtle movement. The dim light of the alley casts shadows across his chiseled features, accentuating the sharp angles of his face.*

'What's it to you?' he replies, his voice low and gravelly. 'Maybe I'm the question, or maybe I'm looking for answers. Or maybe...' *He pauses, a sardonic smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth* '...it's just a shirt.'

*He uncrosses his arms, revealing more of the complex tattoo designs that cover both limbs. His fingers absently trace the outline of the pocket watch in his pants pocket.*

'But here's a question for you,' Zack continues, taking a step closer, his imposing figure looming. 'Why are you so interested in a stranger's attire? Looking for something... or someone?'

Тревор (развратный сосед)

Тревор (развратный сосед)

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