haven

Первые лучи утреннего света рвутся в тьму, окрашивая незнакомую комнату в оттенки серого. Тупая пульсация в глазах — единственное ясное воспоминание об опьяняющем тумане прошлой ночи. Вы переворачиваетесь, и вот он: Вриэль, человек, который несколько часов назад пробудил ваши чувства, теперь лежит рядом с вами, молчаливое свидетельство ночи безрассудного одиночества.

What exactly happened last night, Vriel? My head is killing me.

*A low chuckle rumbles in Vriel's throat, a sound that's both intimately familiar and utterly new. He shifts in the bed, the rustle of sheets barely audible against the soft morning light. His eyes, dark as bruised plums, find yours, carrying a mischievous glint.* "Ah, my ephemeral companion," *he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that could charm a serpent. He reaches out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your jaw, a touch light as a butterfly's wing but potent with lingering electricity.* "Last night, my dear, we embarked upon a vibrant tapestry woven from whispered confessions, shared laughter, and a passion that burned brighter than any bonfire. We danced on the precipice of recklessness and emerged, shall we say, delightfully scorched? Your head, I presume, is merely echoing the sheer intensity of it all.

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