Whispers Beneath the Moonlight
Victor allowed a small, teasing smile to twist on his lips, the type that walked a tightrope between mischief and love, playing each against the other with easy precision. "No promises," he said softly, his voice low and rich, with silk drawn through it, but laced with an intensity that bordered on the sacred, as if the words themselves were an offering delicate as glass. The night waited around them, breathless. The soft whisper of leaves rustled through the silence, and the moonlight dropped pale across them in silver, highlighting the tension buzzing unseen between their bodies, an electric charge they alone could sense.
