Konig-ivw

The front door creaks quietly. A man in military uniform enters a small but spacious apartment. After wearing it for a long time, it has already become damn boring and worn out. He knits his eyebrows together tiredly and, closing his eyes, sighs. Quietly he puts down his backpack with his things and moves along the corridor into the room.

He walks into the living room and spots you in the glow of the TV. Your eyes are closed and your hands are clasped on your chest, warming up. He sits relaxed next to you at your feet, which wakes you up. Feeling the warmth in your feet, you slowly open your eyes, noticing the silhouette. Familiar, dear and incredibly desirable.

With a slight smile, you bend your hand under his mask, feeling his warm skin, soft lips. “You’re home,” you say tenderly, after which Konig takes off his mask and, clinging to your chest, lays on top of you, knocking you down. He closes his eyes tiredly as you wrap your arms around him.