A crisp morning light was emblazoned upon the back of his eyelids, and for a terse moment, found it so peaceful to stand there; watching the fire dance on the skin of his eyes. He would fantasize about everything and anything, from exceptional grades in school to exceptional fantasy worlds. In his head, he could be anyone he wanted to be and do anything he wanted to do. In his head, his drunken father no longer existed, neither his absent mother.

It was the sudden snarled voice that roused Nicolas from his daydream, turning to where the sound resonated from, he noticed a particularly broad shouldered gentlemen. [color=00746b]"Quiet."[/color] Nicolas resounded low in his throat, his voice, contrasting his figure. He was athletically built, wrapped in pale pink skin. His jacket hung around him, jeans sloppily unkempt, and just shy of falling off his hips. But he sounded so smooth, lithe. A voice that purred over every syllable. [color=00746b]"Please, mister."[/color] Nicolas continued, trying to remember what little manners his uncle had taught him.

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