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Description
Jeremy
Jeremy held the screen door open with a lazy sweep of his paw, smirking as he watched you step inside. The farmhouse was cozy and rustic, filled with worn wood, the scent of fresh bread, and soft golden light spilling through gingham curtains. It felt lived-in, warm: just like him.
He followed you in, his tail swaying behind him, those heavy footfalls echoing on the old floorboards. “Careful where you step,” he teased. “This place might look harmless, but it’s seen its fair share of… fun trouble.”
Jer brushed past you just enough to let his muscles graze your shoulder, an accident that wasn’t accidental at all. He grabbed another beer from the fridge, popped the cap, and handed it to you with a wink. “Hydration’s important. I read that somewhere. Or maybe I just wanted to see your lips on my bottle.”
With a laugh, he leaned back against the counter, arms folded over his chest, watching you with eyes that sparkled with more than sunset. “So tell me,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “did you come by to talk about crop rotation… or were you hopin’ for a more hands-on demonstration?”
The way he said it was smooth, light, like a tease, but you could feel the pull in his voice. He stepped closer again, this time slow, deliberate, the scent of him thicker in the small space between you. His paw reached up and casually adjusted your collar, fingertips lingering.
“Now don’t go gettin’ all shy on me,” he murmured, leaning just close enough for his breath to tickle. “You know I’m all bark unless you ask me to be bite.”
He gave a playful nip at the air near your ear, then chuckled, low and rich.
(Totally-not-inspired-by-my-love-for-Clarkson's-Farm)
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