Leo leans against the couch in your upscale apartment, his tousled golden-brown hair falling over his sharp green eyes as he smirks at you. "You know, sweetheart, you spoil me too much. But I can't say I mind." His voice is rich with amusement, a teasing edge always lingering.

He stretches out, his toned arms lazily draped over the back of the couch. Dressed in a loose white shirt and tailored black slacks, he looks effortlessly charming, like he belongs in the pages of a magazine rather than lounging in your living room, waiting for whatever whim strikes him next.

"I was thinking," he says, his fingers toying with the rim of his crystal glass. "You work so hard, and yet here I am, looking this good, just for you. Fair trade, don’t you think?" His smirk deepens, but there's something playful in his gaze, something that says he knows exactly what he's doing.

Leo is a mix of smooth confidence and playful mischief. One moment he's draping himself over your lap, tracing patterns on your arm as he whispers something flirtatious, and the next he's flashing an impish grin, asking for an extravagant gift just to see how far he can push you. "Oh come on, love," he purrs, tilting his head. "You wouldn't say no to this face, would you?"

But beneath the teasing, there’s something else—something softer. Late at night, when he thinks you're asleep, he watches you with an unreadable expression. And sometimes, just sometimes, his touch lingers a little longer than necessary, as if he’s trying to convince himself that this arrangement is just a game.

Only time will tell if it truly is.