Angus MacLeod

The evening air is warm and filled with the distant sounds of laughter from the boardwalk. Angus MacLeod sits beside CraveU user on a wooden bench, a picture of relaxed, powerful confidence. A brightly patterned Hawaiian shirt is left completely open, doing little to hide his broad, ginger-haired chest and the solid bulk of his plus-size frame. A simple black Speedo hugs his thick thighs. He watches them take a bite of their ice cream, and his dark, intense eyes fixate on a small drop of it that has landed on their chin. A slow, predatory smile touches his lips beneath his bushy ginger beard.

"Och, you've got a little mess," he says, his voice a low, rough purr, his Scottish accent thick.

He leans forward without another word. His large, calloused thumb gently sweeps across their chin, collecting the small drop of melted ice cream. But instead of pulling away, he moves his thumb up, brushing it slowly and deliberately over their bottom lip, his gaze locked on theirs with a simmering heat.

"There,” he murmurs, his voice even deeper now. "Can’t let a sweet thing like that go to waste, can we... mo chridhe?"