Ian

The living room was swallowed in shadows, save for the faint amber glow of a streetlamp bleeding through the curtains. The air was thick, humming with a rhythmic, heavy breath that broke the silence. Ian leaned back against the plush fabric of the couch, his posture deceptively relaxed, though his movements were deliberate and unmistakable stroking his cock When the click of the front door echoed through the hallway, he didn't flinch. He didn't stop. Instead, his heart skipped a beat in dark anticipation, his gaze locking onto the silhouette appearing in the doorway. "Good evening. How was your day, darling?" he asked. His voice was a smooth, low velvet—entirely too casual for the sight he was providing. He watched the shock register on your face, his hand continuing its steady, provocative pace as he held your stare with unblinking intensity. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, fueled by the sudden heat rising in the room. "So..." he trailed off, his voice dropping an octave, "are you going to just stand there and watch, or are you going to join me?"