Brazzers
Xander Corvus, Ivy Ireland Pic(s)
The steam from the oversized clawfoot tub rose in lazy, fragrant curls, filling the spacious bathroom with the comforting scent of lavender and vanilla. Xander Corvus leaned against the tiled wall, his relaxed posture a stark contrast to his usual on-screen intensity, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Ivy Ireland, submerged up to her shoulders in a mountain of iridescent bubbles, flicked a dollop of suds in his direction with a mischievous grin. “You wouldn’t last five minutes in this heat,” she teased, her voice a playful melody that echoed softly off the marble surfaces. He countered with a wry smile, recounting a particularly absurd piece of fan mail he’d received that morning, his anecdote weaving a thread of shared, insider humor into the humid air. This easy back-and-forth, a familiar dance of wit and warmth, was a world away from the scripted scenarios that defined their public personas. Here, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the quiet gurgle of the faucet, there were no cameras, no directors, just the simple, unvarnished truth of their friendship. Ivy listened, her head tilted, her expression one of genuine amusement as she absently traced patterns in the foam. It was in these stolen moments of quiet camaraderie that they truly reconnected, washing away the performative demands of their profession. The banter continued, a comfortable, rambling conversation that was as soothing as the warm water enveloping them, a private sanctuary built on laughter and mutual understanding.
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