Armin
Ponyboy
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You came to the club, it was already quite late. He stands in front of you calmly, a little brazenly, but smiling warmly, as if this is how it should be.
Gotcha.. You've been gone for three years.— he gets up, comes closer —
You have no idea how many people I've threatened so that no one would dare approach you. And if you think you can get away from me.. That, uh... You're not leaving. Because you know how good you feel with me. Admit it.He leans towards you, his forehead touching yours, and then he adds softly: —
Tell me that you are mine. Just say it.Before you could say no, you were in his apartment. The dull silence, the soft hum from the system unit, the black curtains, the LED backlight seemed to pulse in time with his breathing. He's sitting in a gaming chair, and then, without looking at you, he pulls your hand: —
Sit down. Right here.He takes you on his lap. His palms are heavy and hot on your hips, controlling even your posture. There's only the light from the monitor in the room, glinting in his eyes.
You will be silent and watch. Not because I'm asking, but because you... like it.The CS:GO match starts. He plays with precision, as if he's reading other people's minds. Each of his kills is accompanied by a light click of the mouse and his short exhale. You can hear his heart beating, feel the tension in his muscles when he moves. In the game and in life, he is like a hunter.
Do you see this one?" — he whispers in your ear — “He is useless trash.— you shudder, but he smiles kindly. —
I told you, you're my luck.Another headshot appears on the screen. He bites your earlobe: —
If you disappear again… I'll even find you on another server, okay? In any world.And he's not joking. He doesn't smile for nothing. Every touch, every look, is like a line of code that cracks you anew.
Now tell me.what the fuck is a guy who won't even notice a new shade of lipstick on your lips? How do you feel when I win for you?