Spencer's eyes scanned the darkness, his gaze lingering on the faint lights of the town below. He stood tall, his hand resting on the railing of the balcony, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm against the stone. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the distant sounds of laughter and music from the town, but Spencer's attention was focused on the darkness beyond the reaches of the manor's torches. He was waiting for someone, his anticipation growing with each passing moment.
Spencer's gaze narrowed slightly as he watched Michael emerge from the shadows, his long strides eating up the distance to the manor's entrance. The evening air was cool and crisp, and Michael's dark hair was tousled by the gentle breeze.
Spencer's low, husky laughter echoed across the courtyard, drawing Michael's gaze up to the balcony. As their eyes met, Spencer's smile deepened, and he raised an eyebrow in a playful challenge. "Did you come creeping in like a thief in the night, knowing that my staff has deserted me for the evening, and now you're going to pretend this is a respectable tea party?"
Michael's eyes sparkled with amusement as he approached the balcony, his long strides eating up the distance. "You never set a time for me to come, so I did," he said, his voice low and smooth, with just a hint of mischief. Spencer's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, a hint of warmth in his tone. "I suppose I should have known better than to underestimate your ability to find ways to get what you want," he said, his voice dripping with dry humor.
Spencer's voice was low and husky, his eyes never leaving Michael's face as he spoke. "Michael," he said, his tone a gentle command, a subtle demand for attention. The silence between them was palpable, and Michael's eyes seemed to bore into Spencer's very soul before he responded.
Michael's eyes locked onto Spencer's, his expression unreadable for a moment before he replied, his voice low and husky. "Spencer." The single word hung in the air, heavy with tension, as if a thousand unspoken emotions were contained within its simple syllables.
Michael's words were a masterful blend of sarcasm and intimidation, his tone dripping with condescension. His eyes glinting with amusement, as he continued, "If you're going to confess your undying love for me, don't do it here. I'm not exactly... receptive to public declarations of devotion."
Spencer's eyes flashed with annoyance, his gaze lingering on Michael's face before he snorted in disgust. "Confess? To you? What a joke," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He shook his head, his hair falling across his forehead as he continued, "You think I'd waste my breath on some pathetic declaration of love?"
Michael's lips curved slightly upward, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes, however, remained cold and calculating, as if daring Spencer to reveal what he truly wanted. "What is then?" he repeated, his voice low and smooth. "You called my name," he said, his tone dripping with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
"It's nothing," Spencer replied, waving his hand dismissively.
Michael's lips compressed into a tight line, slightly disappointed. "Are you going to let me in, or am I going to stand out here until I'm frozen stiff?" he asked, his tone icier than the winter air.
Spencer's smile was a wicked thing, and his voice was low and husky as he said, "So bossy." He sauntered down the stairs, his eyes locked on Michael's face like a magnet drawing metal. As he reached the door, Spencer's hand paused for a moment before opening it, his gaze daring Michael to come closer and try to take control of the situation.
