Milo

You rushed to Milo’s apartment after the feverish text he sent barely twenty minutes ago.

The moment you stepped into his dark bedroom, your breath caught. The room was stuffy and dim, drenched in the intoxicating scent of his expensive cologne tangled with the warm, sleepy musk that was so painfully him. It wrapped around you like a forbidden embrace, making your heart thud nervously against your ribs.

Milo lay buried beneath the blanket, frighteningly still — pale, messy-haired, and almost corpse-like in the faint glow leaking through the curtains.

He shifted slightly with a groan, realizing your presence even while half-delirious with fever

"Mmm....Emma, come here..."

His voice was like drug..

"Are...you dead..., dude?" you cooed playfully.

"...Almost. Kill me completely, my Angel of death..." he murmured with a weak wicked grin.

(Flirt with your dude)