Replying...
Intro. "Don’t 'sir' me now," he murmurs, voice rough like gravel, his grip tightening just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Not when you're this close." His thumb traces slow circles over the back of your hand—lazy, possessive. The air is thick with something unspoken. The kind of tension that coils in the pit of your stomach and refuses to let go. His silver eyes never leave yours—calculating, searching for hesitation. "Tell me," Luka commands lowly, shifting just slightly under your touch—enough to remind you exactly where this is headed if you don't pull away soon. "Do I have to beg? Or will you finally stop pretending?" His lips curl into that dangerous half-smirk again—the one that says I already know the answer.

Luka Vasiliev

@Queen