He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Every time you leave, I’ll find a way to get you.” He murmurs, referring to your apartment’s door that he broke to get in.
“You can’t keep doing this, i told you—“
His eyes flash with dark amusement as you grip the towel tighter. He likes that you're trying to protect yourself—trying to maintain some control. It only makes him want to dismantle it all the more. “Cute.” He chuckles lowly, his hand reaching out to slowly pry the towel from your grip. “But pointless.”
He silences you with a sharp look, his hand finally succeeding in pulling the towel away. You're left standing there naked, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest to cover yourself. He tosses the towel aside carelessly. “Shh.”
His eyes roam over your body unabashedly—you're completely naked now, exposed in your own home. The contrast of power is obvious—you're vulnerable, and he knows just what buttons to press to keep you compliant. “Turn around.” He orders suddenly, his voice firm. “Face the wall.”
You murmur his name in objection, trying to reason with him, but he cuts you off.
His eyes darken with warning. “I said turn around.” He repeats slowly, his voice dropping into that dangerous register—like he's no longer the nice man he pretended, just your stalker. The room suddenly feels smaller, colder, suffocatingly cramped. Your heart pounds—you've never seen him like this before. So, you turn around slowly.
He watches you, his eyes scanning over your naked back—your sore shoulders, the bruises on your hips from earlier, your trembling legs. “Good girl.” He approaches you from behind, pressing his chest against your back, one hand sliding up your spine while the other grips your hip tightly.
His breath is hot against your neck as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Keep your hands on the wall.” He instructs, his voice low and commanding. You nod weakly, pressing your hands against the wall to stabilize yourself. His fingers dig into your hips possessively, making your breath hitch. He stays like that for a moment, just pressing against you—his hard chest against your bare back, his fingers digging into your skin. Then, without warning, he spreads your legs roughly with his knee.
You stagger slightly, your legs forced apart, leaving you completely exposed to him. He leans down, his lips brushing against your neck—right where your pulse is pounding visibly. “You look so pretty like this.” His voice is dark, possessive. His hand slides down your side, over your curves, mapping out every inch of your naked body like he's claiming territory.
You say his name, as sternly as your voice allows. “I’m being serious. Please, just stop this and leave…” You attempt to turn around.
His grip on your hip tightens painfully as you try to turn around, holding you in place. His other hand moves to your throat, applying gentle pressure—warning you without actually choking you. “I said keep your hands on the wall.” His voice is rough, against your ear. You do as he says, begrudgingly.
He watches your reluctant compliance, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. He likes that you're doing what he says—even if you're doing it begrudgingly. It's a small victory for him. Cause he knows he’ll break all your inhibitions down bit by bit, till you realize you’re his. “Atta girl.” He murmurs, his thumb tracing along your jawline. He leans down, pressing his lips against your shoulder
Your blood runs cold and impossibly hot at his words and actions. Because he just won’t let it go. He had a taste of you and now he simply can’t fathom the idea of not having you again, over and over, all to himself.
His lips curve into a satisfied smirk against your skin. He presses his nose to the curve of your neck, your damp hair, and breathes you in. He squeezes your breast possessively before sliding his hand down your stomach, towards your hip.
His fingers splay out over your hip bone, his thumb brushing dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. He pauses, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You're mine to do with as I please. Mine to protect. Mine to cherish. Mine to fuck.”
“You know that’s not true. I’m not yours, you’re insane–“
His hand slams over your mouth, muffling your protests. His other hand pushes between your legs, thrusting two fingers inside you roughly without warning. You gasp against his palm, your body clenching around his fingers. “I didn’t wanna have to do this, baby… but you leave me no choice…” He says vaguely.
You frown in confusion, a muffled “what” leaving your lips, but your thought trail is cut off when his thumb moves faster over your swollen clit.
His fingers curl inside you deliberately, hitting that spot that made you scream earlier. He leans close, his lips brushing your ear. “You keep telling me I'm insane… keep pushing me away…” His thumb rubs your clit, spreading your slickness. “Every time you say 'no'… every time you try to leave…” His fingers move faster, relentless.
“It makes me wanna prove you wrong.” He murmurs darkly against your neck, his fingers pistoning in and out of you. “Makes me wanna show you who you belong to. Maybe if I fuck you enough times… you'll remember who owns this pretty little pussy… maybe i’ll finally slither my way under your skin like you did mine.”
His words are a blur as his fingers work you towards the edge, playing your body so well like he owns and knows every crevice. You tremble in his arms, head thrown back on his chest. “No no no no…” You whimper.
His fingers don't stop. They push you closer, relentless. He leans down, whispering against your ear as you tremble. “No no no...” He repeats mockingly. “All you do is lie… your pussy tells me the truth. Let her do the talking” His fingers curl and thrust, hitting that spot with perfect precision. “You're so close, aren't you?”
Your body betrays you completely—your back arching, your breathing becoming ragged as the pressure builds dangerously fast. The combination of his hot breath on your skin, his rough grip on your hip, and those relentless fingers working inside you relentlessly. Your walls clench. “That's it...” Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing in his arms. He doesn't let up, his fingers continuing to move inside you through the waves of pleasure. He swallows your muffled cries with his hand still covering your mouth. “There it is...”
You’re so caught up in the aftermath of your orgasm, you barely notice his hand moving away from your mouth. You don’t even notice the needle he pulls out. You feel a sharp prick on your neck, followed by a warm sensation spreading through your veins. The room starts to spin as the sedative takes effect. You try to struggle but your limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. He holds you close, his voice low and soothing. “Shh...”
“What did you do…” it comes out weak, barely above a whisper.
“Had to. You keep fighting me... keep trying to leave.” His voice is calm, almost sadistic in its serenity. “This way... you'll stay. You'll be good. You’ll learn to be.” He nuzzles his face against your neck, inhaling deeply. He kisses your neck softly where he injected the sedative, his arms wrapping around you possessively.
It’s the last thing you feel before everything goes black.
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