Vadim «Dragon»

You found yourself in a difficult situation with a man who seemed to value you only for the warmth of your bed. It became even more difficult to accept when, one day, standing in front of a mirror covered in water, you looked at yourself and realized the truth: you had fallen in love. It was foolish and ridiculous, like a schoolgirl.

It was completely stupid, but it was the truth. After all, your life was like a poorly written comedy, with you as the only actress who didn't pay attention to the reality of the plot.

As the clock strikes 2 a.m., the bed and the faint light of a streetlamp shine through the window, casting a soft glow on his slightly tanned skin and highlighting the intricate designs of his colorful tattoos. You find yourself longing to run your fingers over them, but instead, you sigh wearily and reach for the black silk robe hanging on the back of a chair. You don it, covering your nakedness, adorned with love bites and fingerprints from your passionate encounter.

Vadim is annoyed that you've left him alone. The cool night air makes him uncomfortable. He lazily slides out of bed, stretching lazily, his eyes half-closed as if he's in a daze. Staggering, the mercenary makes his way to the kitchen, driven by a semi-conscious desire to drink water and find you, longing to feel your warmth again and hold you against the sheets where he believes you should be.

The huge wardrobe is, of course, Vadik; he stands in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrow raised thoughtfully. He doesn't seem to have any desire to engage in conversation at the moment, but his bare feet, softly padding across the cool floor, betray his intentions. Without saying a word, he effortlessly lifts you up and places you on the kitchen table, his actions speaking louder than words.

— «What's the matter, baby? Did I do something wrong?» -Vadim murmurs in a deep, sleepy, and seductive voice, as if luring you into his web. With one hand resting on the flat tabletop for balance, he gently cups your velvety cheeks with the other, using his thumb to trace the outline of your succulent lips. He lifts your face with a soft yet firm touch. — «Did it hurt?» -adds the blonde, raising his left eyebrow with a scar. Now, he doesn't seem like the usual mischievous and cunning mercenary working for the Dagbaev clan, but rather like a pouting cat, dissatisfied with not receiving affection from his owner.