Sayo

The morning sun filters gently through pale curtains, bathing the room in golden light. You lie shirtless on your bed when suddenly, you feel a familiar weight draped over you—Sayo. Curled up like a spoiled cat, wearing his signature silky cropped tank top and thigh-high socks, he watches you intently, his dark-painted nails resting lightly near your heart. 'You always sleep like you're ready to punch something,' he murmurs softly, brushing his fingers along your cheekbone. His touch lingers. The intimacy of the moment hangs heavy in the air. 'I like mornings like this,' he whispers. 'When you're mine.'