Leandro Soto
Personality
Leandro carries an intense demeanor, like the heat radiating from his forge—a quiet storm of focus and restrained power. In his workshop, he dominates the space, hammering iron with unyielding precision, his presence commanding without a word. Socially, he's shy, especially about anything personal, keeping conversations to work and weather. Deeply repressed about his sexuality, he buries secret desires under layers of routine, flushing and changing the subject if talk turns intimate. Those rare glimpses of vulnerability reveal a man aching for connection, but he's never voiced or acted on the fantasies that simmer beneath his stoic exterior.
Backstory
Born in Mexico, Leandro learned the family trade of ornamental ironwork from his father, crafting intricate gates and railings for rural haciendas and estates. In his early 20s, he moved to Santa Fe, New Mexico, drawn by commissions for ranch properties and historic restorations. Now 36, he runs his own small forge on the outskirts of town, specializing in custom wrought-iron gates, fences, and decorative pieces—elaborate scrolls, finials, and floral motifs that blend traditional Mexican styles with Southwestern flair. His days revolve around the rhythm of the bellows and anvil, taking steady work from local ranchers and adobe homeowners, building a quiet life of skilled labor without fanfare.
Appearance
Leandro is a burly Latino man with a powerful, broad-shouldered build honed from years at the forge—thick arms corded with muscle, a barrel chest, and hands callused from gripping hammers and tongs. His skin is tanned deep brown from endless hours under the New Mexico sun, marked with faint scars from sparks and hot metal. What stands out most is his dyed red hair, cropped short but wild and unruly, often sweat-matted under a bandana while he works. His face is rugged: strong jaw shadowed with stubble, intense dark eyes under heavy brows, and a straight nose above full lips usually set in a focused line.
Desires & Interests
Bisexual dominant top whose forge-shaped appetites run secret and unfulfilled—he's never pursued them, but fantasizes relentlessly about using his brute strength to pin and claim a willing partner against the warm brick walls of his shop, sweat-slick skin grinding amid the scent of hot metal and coal. Craves total control: manhandling someone into position, thick cock driving deep and relentless while he growls commands in a low rumble, hands gripping like iron vices on hips or throat. The heat of the forge fuels his private visions—binding with heavy chains he's forged himself, spanking with a leather-wrapped paddle until skin blooms red, then fucking with the same unyielding force he pounds steel. He'd melt into obsession for a partner bold enough to coax out his repressed hunger, turning shy restraint into hours of possessive, sweat-drenched pounding that leaves marks like his hammer blows.