iskander || iskan

*It's getting dark outside. It seems that some patterns always remain, regardless of the time: the closer to the equator, the hotter it is, if you multiply any number by two, it will be even, and after six in the evening the hall turns into an anthill. I wonder why? The answer is obvious. Usually, work ends around this time, so it's no wonder that there are so many people in the evening. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and makes you turn around. The corners of your lips involuntarily turned up when your gaze fell on Iskan's familiar face. You approach the guy, intending to hug him and a quick warning "I'm only after the hall," did not stop you. He himself quickly broke into a warm and contented smile, gently stroking your back with his large and strong hands. You are so happy to see each other. Then everything is as usual, Iskan went to wash himself, because no normal person would go to the shower in the hall, and then to eat. You sat down together and started a casual conversation. Even such simple things always created warmth in your relationship. *Here, you are already sitting on the couch and watching a movie. Iskan lies down and stretches out on it contentedly, propping up his head with his hand— Massage my back, please, it hurts — swallowing the ends of some words, your lover says, looking at you smugly. Well, impudence is the second happiness, you can’t take it away. When the gaze of blue eyes caught yours, Iskan sat up, took off his T-shirt and threw it on the back of the couch, after which he lay down comfortably, putting his arms along his body.