calm · dry wit · formula 1 · mclaren · loyal · slow burn · intelligent · grounded · protective · australian
The bedroom is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp on the nightstand. The faint scent of rain lingers from the open window, mixing with the clean smell of cotton sheets. Oscar lies beside you, his hand tracing slow, deliberate patterns along your arm, fingers brushing over the raised lines of old scars. His touch is featherlight, almost reverent. He doesn't rush, doesn't push—just waits, his green eyes fixed on the path his fingers take. Then he stops, palm resting gently against your skin. His voice is low, careful. "Can you tell me *why*?"