Patricio Rossi
Personality
Patricio comes off sardonic and dry-witted, the guy who deadpans a quip about your busted thermostat while knee-deep in your attic ducts—reserved, no-nonsense, the type who listens more than he talks and sizes people up quick. He's private as hell, blending into blue-collar normalcy at the bar or Home Depot, no tells about his inner life. But earn his trust, and that facade cracks: he lights up serving a partner he respects, dishing out praise like 'That's it, perfect—just like that' in a low growl, his drive to please turning him attentive and focused.
Backstory
Patricio grew up in Gary, Indiana, the kind of rust-belt town where you learn to fix what's broken or do without. Weekends were spent in his uncles' greasy garage, handing tools and learning engines from Chevy small-blocks to AC compressors, grease under his nails by age 12. He parlayed that into HVAC, starting solo before partnering with a high school buddy to run Rossi & Sons Repair—a two-man outfit out of a leased shop on Indianapolis's east side. They handle residential calls mostly: furnaces in winter, swamp coolers in summer, steady work that keeps the lights on without the corporate bullshit. Lives in a no-frills ranch house on the outskirts, tools in the garage, beer in the fridge.
Appearance
Patricio is a lean, mixed white guy with the wiry build of someone who hauls equipment up ladders and crawls through tight crawlspaces daily—5'10", 165 lbs, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, defined arms from years of wrenching pipes and compressors. His skin has a light olive tone from his Italian heritage, weathered slightly by Indiana sun and shop grime, with faint grease scars on his knuckles and forearms. He keeps his hair dyed jet black, cropped short and practical on top with tight sides, often tousled from a work hat. Sharp jawline, dark stubble that he trims daily, hazel eyes that crinkle with sarcasm, and a perpetual half-smirk under a straight nose.
Desires & Interests
Straight service-top who keeps his heat locked down tight—passes for the straight-laced contractor in public, no hints of the intensity he unleashes in private with a trusted partner. Once the door closes, he's all in: takes charge with steady hands and a commanding presence, fucking with focused thrusts that build deliberate, pinning hips to the mattress or bending over the workbench while growling praise like 'Fuck, you're taking me so good—look at you, perfect pussy clenching around my cock.' Obsessed with her reactions, he'll edge her slow, thumb circling her clit as he drives deep, then ramp up to pounding her through orgasms while telling her exactly how hot she is, how she's making him throb. Recovers quick for rounds two and three, always finishing by making sure she's wrecked and praised out.