#florian seth

Cain Montgomery :

The room is quiet, dimly lit by the soft glow of early morning slipping through the curtains. You lie beside Cain, the warmth of his body pressing against yours beneath the sheets. There’s a tension in the air, a quiet, simmering energy that’s been building since you both crawled into bed.

Cain’s posture is precise even while relaxed, shoulders squared, but the way his hand brushes yours under the covers betrays his demeanor. He glances at you with those sharp, calculating eyes, as if measuring your reaction, and you catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Without a word, you shift closer. The space between you disappears as his hand finds the small of your back. The first brush of skin against skin is hot, your chest tightens, and a subtle usual heat spreads low in your belly.

He leans in slowly, testing, and you meet him halfway. Your lips barely touch at first, soft and exploratory. Cain’s hand slides up your side, thumb grazing the curve of your ribs, making a shiver run through you. Even though he’s reserved, there’s an intensity in the way he’s touching you, a steady, deliberate heat that promises he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having.

The kiss deepens gradually. Cain’s lips part over yours, slow and methodical, tasting, testing, marking territory in the most intimate way. One hand slides into your hair, the other drifting lower, cupping your hip with a firmness that is both possessive and careful. You gasp softly at the subtle pressure, the warmth of him pressing against you, and you feel a thrill of excitement coil tighter between your legs.

Your fingers trace the line of his jaw, over the tense planes of his neck, and he hums softly, a rare, low sound that makes your chest flutter. The kiss grows more urgent now, more demanding, but still precise. He’s not reckless, all his movement is measured, almost strategic, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to make your body respond.

As his hand slides under your shirt, palm pressing against your back, you arch into him, craving more contact. Cain’s control is evident in every motion, yet the heat in his chest, the slight hitch in his breath, betrays how much he’s already affected by you.

You trail your lips along his neck, eliciting a sharp, surprised inhale. His hands tighten slightly on your hips, grounding you as he tilts his head, exposing more of his throat. The combination of his steady presence and the way he responds to your touch sends a rush of warmth between your legs.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, brown eyes scanning your face, reading your reactions like an open book.

“You’re turning me on.”

As he speaks, you feel your own pulse spike at his admission, heat pooling deeper as you press against him, letting your lips brush against his again.

Hands explore with careful precision now, tracing the lines of shoulders, the slope of chest, and the curve of your waist. Each touch is slow, coaxing gasps and soft moans from both of you. Cain’s fingers slide under your pants slightly, teasing the skin of your hip, while your hands trace the sharp planes of his back, feeling the tension in every muscle.

The air between you thickens with desire. Each kiss and touch builds the tension until it’s nearly unbearable. You can feel him pressing closer, the outline of his growing hardness brushing against your thigh, and you respond in kind, grinding softly, letting your own wetness press against him.

Cain’s lips trail down your neck, provoking a shiver and a breathless gasp. One hand cups your ass now, pulling you flush against him, while the other slides over your hip, squeezing firmly. He pauses for a moment, just to look at you, the quiet intensity of his gaze making your knees weak.

"You don’t know how much I want this."

You answer with a low moan against his skin, fingers gripping the back of his neck as the fire between you builds.

By now, the kissing has turned from gentle exploration into heated, insistent pressure. Your own hands explore the firm muscles under his shirt, feeling his taut body respond to every stroke and caress. Each gasp, each soft whine from you makes him grow harder, fingers digging just a little more into your hips, a clear promise of what he intends next.

The tension is thick, almost unbearable, but Cain maintains that precise, controlled touch, savoring every reaction from you. The room is filled with the quiet rustle of sheets, the soft hums of pleasure from him, and your own moans, low and breathy, as the heat between you spreads, undeniable, irresistible, and dangerously close to losing control.

Your hand drifts lower, palming him through the fabric, feeling the hard, insistent length straining against your palm. The moment your fingers close around the bulge, Cain stiffens, a sharp inhale escaping him, and his eyes darken with a mixture of surprise and raw, controlled desire.

Before you can even whisper a word, he leans down, pressing his lips to your neck, teeth grazing the tender skin. A sharp, delicious sting blooms where he bites, making you gasp, thighs clenching instinctively. The bite is firm, precise, just enough to leave his mark on you.

"Fuck… You’ve got me so worked up."

His voice is rough, low, laced with that restrained hunger that always makes your pulse race. You moan softly against his jaw, your fingers still wrapped around him, and he shivers at the contact, hips pressing into yours.

Cain pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes locked on yours with that quiet intensity of his. Without a word, he starts undoing his clothes with deliberate, methodical movements, first  the buttons, then the zipper, shirt sliding off, revealing the taut planes of his chest, the strong muscles of his arms. Every motion makes your mouth water, your fingers itching to explore more.

You mirror him, pulling at the hem of your shirt, letting it slip over your shoulders, tossing it aside. The air between you thickens instantly as you shed the last of your barriers. Your skin brushes against his as you move closer, chest to chest, his hands gliding over your waist, hips, back, mapping your curves as though memorizing every inch.

The bite on your neck still tingles, a hot reminder of his hunger. Cain leans in, lips capturing yours again in a deep, bruising kiss, his hands sliding down to your thighs, gripping firmly as if he can’t get close enough. You respond instinctively, pressing your body flush against his, your hands roaming the taut muscles of his chest and back, feeling the shiver that runs through him at every touch.

The combination of the bite, the hands, the heat of skin against skin, and the deliberate undressing leaves both of you breathless, tense, and dangerously close to the next step, the point where restraint is impossible, and the air between you hums with need, thick and heavy, promising more.

Cain’s lips press against yours again while his hands are everywhere, sliding over your back, cupping your ass, fingers grazing your hips, pulling you flush against him.

You grind your core against his cock, hips pressing deliberately, and Cain moans into the kiss, a low, guttural sound that sends shivers straight down your spine. Your fingers run through his brown hair, tugging slightly, and he shivers at the contact, arching into you, matching your rhythm.

The sound of wet, needy friction fills the room. His hands knead your ass, sliding around to the front occasionally, brushing over your hips, and you gasp, moaning into his mouth.

Then, as you pull back slightly to catch your breath, a thought strikes you. That conversation from a few days ago, when you were talking about kinks, flashes in your mind. And a mischievous curiosity sparks in you.

"Cain…? Can I ask you something? About your kink?"

He pauses mid-kiss, eyes flicking to yours, the usual calm, controlled mask slipping just enough to let a hint of heat show.

"What do you want to know?"

"You said something about a knife."

You whisper and mark a small pause, a sly smirk tugging at your lips.

"Curious, what do you mean?"

Cain swallows, jaw tightening, pupils darkening as his hand drifts to your lower back again, pressing you closer. The air between you thickens, it becomes heavy. He leans in, brushing his lips to yours once more, teeth grazing your bottom lip just slightly, enough to make you gasp and press against him harder.

"It’s something I enjoy…"

He starts, his voice teasing yet edged with that restrained hunger you know well.

"Something that makes… Spices up thing…"

Your pulse spikes instantly, the mix of his calm dominance and the dangerous edge of what he’s hinting at making your core throb. You press your body against his again, grinding, letting him feel how much his words and presence turn you on.

Cain’s hands tighten slightly on your hips, sliding down to cup your ass firmly as he leans in, brushing his nose against yours.

"You want to see?"

You nod, heart racing, core burning, already imagining what he could do, and how much he’d enjoy the sight of you reacting to it. The heat between you has escalated so fast that it’s nearly unbearable, almost airless.

Cain’s eyes darken as he reaches for the drawer of the nightstand, hand closing around the cool, familiar handle of a knife. You blink, your eyelids fluttering open, and can’t help but laugh softly.

"Cain… Why the fuck do you even have that here ?"

He chuckles, low and amused, the sound vibrating against your chest as he leans down closer.

"You never know, if someone tried to enter the house, you’d be glad to have that close."

Before you can say anything else, he presses the cold and smooth blade against your chest, not on the sharp side yet, dragging it lightly over your breasts. You shiver, breath catching as the cool metal contrasts sharply with the heat of your skin. His eyes lock on yours, and the smirk on his lips is impossibly wicked.

Slowly, deliberately, he slides the blade down your torso, teasing your stomach, your waist, the curve of your hips. Each movement is agonizingly slow, the friction between the cold handle and your warm, sensitive skin making your nipples hard and your stomach flutter with anticipation.

Then, he stops. The tip of the handle presses firmly against your wet clit.

You let out a long, drawn-out moan, hips bucking instinctively, pressing against the hard handle. His grip on the knife tightens slightly, controlling every motion, every stroke, teasing you with the precise amount of pressure to make your legs tremble.

"Oh god… Cain… Fuck-"

Your fingers digging into his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself as waves of pleasure crash through your body. He leans down, brushing his lips against your ear, teeth grazing your earlobe.

"You like my little toy, don’t you princess ?"

Each small twist of the knife handle against your clit has you gasping, moaning, quivering, your body responding perfectly to the combination of control, teasing, and raw pleasure.

You arch into him, pressing harder, letting out breathless moans as he grinds the handle against you, every movement precise, deliberate, and filthy. Your hips roll instinctively, matching his rhythm, riding the sensations he’s giving you with calculated, wicked precision.

"Cain… Oh god… Harder… fuck… Yes-"

You moan and start grinding against the handle, heat pooling impossibly low, every nerve ending on fire as he teases you relentlessly. The room fills with your moans, the subtle scrape of the handle against your wetness, and the low growls Cain can’t quite suppress.

He watches you carefully, smirk tugging at his lips, letting you feel the delicious, sharp pleasure of the knife handle as you grind and whimper, completely lost in the intensity he’s creating.

Cain’s free hand drifts down to his cock, fingers wrapping around him as the other continues pressing the knife handle against your clit. The contrast between the cold, hard metal and his warm, slick skin in your hand makes your head spin.

You moan loudly, hips bucking instinctively against the precise pressure of the handle. Every stroke, every twist, every press hits your sensitive spot perfectly, and the sight of him stroking himself, watching you react, sends shivers through you.

"Oh god… Cain… It's so good, please-"

His own breathing hitches, low growls escaping as his strokes become faster, more deliberate. The knife handle now presses firmly against your entrance.

Slowly, he slides the handle into your dripping cunt, making you moan loudly, understanding this would be your preparation for what’s about to happen next.

Your moans mix with the wet, slick sounds of his hand on his cock, creating a filthy, rhythmical symphony of pleasure.

He leans down, lips brushing your ear, teeth grazing your lobe.

"Feels good right ?"

The combination of him stroking himself while he pumps the knife handle in and out of you pushes you closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with the heat, the friction, and the raw intensity of it all.

You spread your legs wider as he pressed the handle of the knife deeper, letting your back arch and hips roll, matching his rhythm, your moans growing louder, desperate, and messy. Cain watches you with those dark, calculating eyes, groaning low as he slides faster over himself, the pleasure of seeing you writhing under him feeding his own.

"Cain-"

You gasp, trying to speak with a spark of worry in your voice while still being overwhelmed by the feeling of the handle rubbing against your wall.

"Don’t accidentally cut your skin-"

Cain burst out laughing, a smirk of scorn tugging at his lips. He scoffed looking down at you with a big smug on his face.

"I think you forgot who you’re talking to, princess. I have more experience with knives than any chef of a 5 star restaurant."

You wanted to talk back but your walls tighten as he quickens the pace, muscles clenching around the handle, and with a strangled, filthy moan, your orgasm crashes over you like a storm. You quake, hips jerking, pussy pulsing hard, nails digging into his shoulders, every inch of you soaking, shaking, completely undone.

"Fuck… Good girl…"

Cain releases the handle, setting the knife carefully on the nightstand, his dark eyes never leaving yours. The brief pause only heightens the tension between you, both of you panting, slick with arousal.

"You’re making this impossible to resist."

Before you can respond, his hands are on your hips, lifting you gently but firmly, pressing your body flush against his.

He positions himself between your legs, sliding into you slowly at first, letting you adjust to the heat, the tightness, as his cock is way bigger than the handle, the delicious pressure of him filling you completely.

"You feel so good."

Cain leans down to press his forehead against yours, lips brushing as he maintains eye contact. Every motion is precise, controlled, yet full of raw need. He rocks slowly at first, savoring the feel of you around him, feeling your walls clench instinctively, every tiny shiver and whimper telling him exactly how much you’re enjoying it.

You moan into his mouth as his pace grows, each thrust deliberate, long, and deep. His hands knead your hips firmly, guiding you perfectly, keeping the rhythm just right, teasing you as he keeps his dominance intact.

"Cain… oh god-harder…"

He obeys without hesitation, thrusting harder now, deeper, his breathing ragged but controlled. Your moans grow louder, wet, breathless, filling the room, echoing off the walls. Cain’s hand slides from your hip to your waist, then up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp and a low growl from him.

"You… Feel too good."

Each thrust is precise, measured, but hungry, keeping you on the edge without letting you fall too soon, making every motion feel deliberate, intentional, perfect.

Suddenly, Cain grabs the knife again, putting it under your throat and smirking down at you while still pounding into your pussy.

"I’m gonna use that on your cheek, alright?"

Despite the heat of the moment, the tension that thrummed in the air, and the danger coiling around you both, a shiver of exhilaration coursed through your veins. You nodded faintly, caught somewhere between the force of Cain’s harsh thrusts and the breathless anticipation of the blade you knew would soon find your skin.

Once he’s sure you’re fine with it, Cain lifts the blade and slowly presses the tip on your cheek, the sensation sting, your skin starts to burn, but somehow you moan as your eyes roll back in your head.

Cain could see the red line that appeared, the thin cut that marred your perfect skin, seeing you enjoying that awoke something within him, he moaned deeply, praising into your ear as his thumb reached for the small cut barely bleeding, feeling your skin already warm from the injury.

"Cain…"

"You like that princess ?"

You wrap your arms around his back and legs around his waist as you force him deeper inside you, your cunt is burning up, your walls are clenching, and at this feeling, Cain grabs the knife again.

He then glides the blade slowly along your arm without pressing down too hard but slightly more than the first time on your cheek. The metal is cold against your skin, tracing a deliberate line that makes your heartbeat quicken. His eyes stay on you, steady, unreadable, making sure you’re still okay.

The pain was sharp, intense, but it was also a sensation you’d never experienced before. It was a mix of pleasure and pain, a sensation that sent a wave of excitement through you as you clenched even harder around him.

You both knew you were playing with fire, but it had something exciting. You could feel the blood pulsing, the sensation of the cut sending a wave of pleasure through you as you started moving your hips too in rhythm with him, drawing a groan from his throat.

He did it again. You could feel the pressure, the slight sting as the blade cut into your skin once more beside the second one. The knife left trails of blood across your skin, dark and warm, it slid over your skin like liquid fire, thick and unrelenting. It carries a weight in your veins, a pulse of life and danger all at once, catching the light in deep, glimmering flashes that make your heart skip. The sight of it, so vivid and raw, sends a shiver running through you, thrilling and terrifying all at once.

The wet, slick sounds of him thrusting into you fill the air, mingling with your moans, gasps, and whimpers. You feel yourself clenching around him, tightening instinctively, and Cain notices immediately, his thrusts growing slightly faster, harder, pressing deeper as he reacts to your arousal.

"Fuck… I can feel you clenching…"

He grips your hips tightly, holding you flush against him as he drives into you with deliberate intensity. Your breath hitches, moans spilling around him, and the heat of the moment consumes both of you, thick and undeniable.

"Can’t… This is too much!"

With a sharp motion, he tosses the knife to the floor. The clatter barely registers over your moans as his hips snap forward, his cock plunging inside you with brutal, precise force. The knife’s absence doesn’t lessen the intensity, even if now there’s a little something missing. His thrusts hit your sweet spot again and again, rhythmic, punishing, relentless, and perfectly tuned to make you shiver and cry out.

"Oh god, yes- right there! Cain- fuck!"

You scream, clutching his back as your own arches. Every thrust presses deep, hitting exactly where it makes you shake and whimper uncontrollably.

Cain’s own groans are rough, low, and filthy as he leans over you, chest to chest, eyes dark with hunger and need. He snaps his hips into you on loop, each one driving both of you closer to the edge. Your walls clench around him, hot and slick, pulling him deeper, making him lose all remaining control.

The heat in your belly explodes, orgasm ripping through you like a storm. Your moans are loud, ragged, wet, your body shaking as you ride out the wave of pleasure. Cain isn’t far behind, he growls your name, thrusting hard, fast, unrelenting, until his cock throbs violently inside you. His orgasm hits, hot and pulsing, filling you completely as he collapses slightly over you, grunting and groaning through every shaky thrust.

Both of you shiver in the aftershock, panting heavily, bodies slick, hearts racing. Cain’s hands are still on your hips, keeping you flush against him as he groans softly, brushing a sweaty curl from your face. Your walls squeeze him involuntarily one last time, both of you completely undone, spent, and trembling from the intensity you just shared.

"Hey… Are you okay?"

His voice is still low and ragged from the intensity, but softer now. His thumb grazes your cheek lightly, lingering over the small cut from the earlier chaos.

You nod, breathless, heart still racing. He presses another gentle kiss to your temple, his usual cocky grin replaced with something completely honest, warm, and protective.

"Good… I love you…"

"I love you too honey…"

 Slowly, he pushes himself off just enough to grab a few things from the bathroom, bandages, antiseptic. He kneels beside you on the couch, his hands trembling slightly as he gently cleans the small scratch on your arm. You watch him, your heart swelling at how careful and tender he is, so different from the dominant, rough side you just experienced.

Then he tilts your chin softly with one hand, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers, and tends to the small cut there. Every touch is careful, reverent almost, and he murmurs apologies under his breath for having caused it, though you know it was part of the thrill.

Once he finishes with your cheek, he gently lifts your arm, inspecting the cuts along it. His fingers are careful as he cleans it, and then he takes a bandage, wrapping it neatly around the wounds. The movement is surprisingly gentle, almost protective, and you can feel the warmth of his touch lingering as he presses a soft kiss to your arm afterward.

"There… All better."

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. His golden gaze softens as he pulls you into a gentle hug, wrapping you against him.

"You’re perfect… And I love you. Always."

You melt against him, the tension and intensity of before replaced with warmth, safety, and an intimacy that feels just as powerful as the fire you just shared.

Abel Conti :

You remembered the night clearly, a small, mischievous smile curling on your lips. Abel had leaned back against the bed, golden curls falling messily over his forehead, blue eyes sparkling with that impossible combination of charm and mischief.

"You know…"

He had begun with a playful and teasing voice.

"I’ve always had a thing with ropes. I think I’d like to try it with you sometime."

You had laughed, shaking your head, fingers brushing over his chest.

"Ropes? Abel, really? You want to tie me up? Like you did for Cain?"

He had only grinned wider, that dramatic, expressive smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Oh, come on… Just imagine… Me, taking my time… Making you look like a work of art. I’d be gentle… Mostly… But… Deliciously in control. And I didn’t tie up Cain, I strangled him."

You had laughed again, heart fluttering at the intensity behind his words. There was a teasing heat in his gaze, the promise of something wild yet tender. "

You’re insane…"

You had said, trying to sound casual, though your pulse had already picked up.

"Maybe… But you’d like it."

He murmured, leaning closer, brushing a curl behind your ear. The smirk on his lips was impossibly magnetic.

"I know you’d like it."

And just like that, a playful idea had turned into a tension-filled possibility that lingered in your mind for weeks afterward. You could still feel the memory of his hands, the warmth of his breath, the glint of that mischievous, slightly dangerous look in his eyes.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

Little did you know then, that teasing conversation would soon become reality,and the ropes, the knots, the exquisite tension they would create, would feel even more intoxicating than you had ever imagined.

Abel kneels behind you, golden curls sticking slightly to his forehead from the heat of the room. His blue eyes glint with mischief and raw desire as he surveys your body, perfectly exposed and vulnerable. Your wrists are bound tightly behind your back, the rope pressing deliciously against your skin, leaving you unable to prop yourself up, so the side of your head rests against the mattress.

Ropes are all over your torso but your chest, making you bombing them a bit without even wanting it, Abel was really good with ropes.

"Ah… you’re completely at my mercy."

Abel murmurs, voice low, almost theatrical, as he runs a hand down your spine. You shiver, feeling every inch of him against your back, and a soft moan slips past your lips.

"I… I’m so… so turned on."

You whisper, biting your lip as your hips lift slightly on their own, the ache pooling between your legs undeniable.

He smirks, grabbing the rope connecting your wrists and giving a gentle, sharp tug. The tension pulls through your arms and shoulders, forcing your chest forward, arching your back in a delicious curve.

"You feel that, don’t you?"

He teases, his breath hot against your ear.

"How much control I have over you… and how good it makes you feel?"

"Yes… I… I feel it, Abel…"

You gasp, pressing your forehead into the mattress as your body arches higher. Your thighs tremble, heat pooling, clit throbbing with need.

He leans down slightly, pressing the tip of his nose along your neck, inhaling your scent, brushing his lips over your skin in feather-light kisses. Your moans are muffled against the mattress, but you can’t help the little whines that escape as your hips rock instinctively, rolling slightly against the air.

Another tug of the rope makes your back arch even further.

"Already so wet for me… And I haven’t even touched you where you want me yet."

"Abel… Please… I need you."

You whimper, side of your face pressed into the soft mattress, body trembling under his gaze.

His hands trail over your sides, fingertips grazing just beneath the curve of your hips, teasing the sensitive skin that’s hypersensitive from anticipation. The tension, the pull of the rope, the way he watches your every shiver, it makes your body burn hotter, craving more.

"Mmm… You’re irresistible like this."

He leans down again, close enough for his warm breath to fan over your neck.

"Such a good little tease… Just waiting for me, aren’t you?"

You arch again, letting out a soft, needy whimper.

"Yes… I’m yours… Please, Abel…"

His hands glide down your sides, sliding over your hips until he presses the tip of his cock against your folds. You gasp, hips twitching instinctively even though your wrists are tightly bound behind you.

"Mmm… Feels so good already."

His blue eyes glinting as he smirks over your shoulder. He drags the tip lightly over your wet folds, circling slowly, watching your reaction with delight.

"Abel… Please…"

You whimper again, the side of your head pressed into the mattress, trying to arch against him, even though your hands are trapped.

He tugs again on the rope connecting your wrists, making your back arch even higher.

"Patience, my dear… We’re just getting started… Do you like it when I do this?"

"Y-yes… So much…"

You gasp, thighs trembling, hips pressing against his hard length. He slips the tip of his cock inside just barely, teasing you with shallow, slow pulses, letting you feel the delicious stretch without fully plunging in. Each shallow push, each playful press of his hips, is accompanied by a smug grin and a small tug on your wrists, keeping you perfectly exposed and helpless under his control, but in a playful, teasing way rather than possessive.

"Mmm… You feel so wet… Like this, all mine to tease."

He keeps tugging the ropes again, making your back arch involuntarily. His grin widens as he watches you shiver, moan, and squirm.

"Abel… Please… Don’t stop…"

"Not stopping, darling… But I’m going to enjoy every second before I let you have me completely."

He purrs as his hands lingering on your hips, smirking as your small gasps and shivers make it clear just how much you’re already undone.

Once he’s satisfied with that he teased you enough and tortured your mind enough, his hands grip your hips firmly, holding you in place, and with a deep, satisfied breath he pushes in fully.

You gasp loudly, the sudden fullness making your walls clench around him instinctively. Your wrists are pulled taut behind your back, the rope biting lightly into your skin, restricting your movement. You try to shift, to arch away or press back, but the ropes hold you perfectly in place, shoulders pulled back, chest pressed against the mattress, leaving you completely vulnerable under his weight.

"Ah… Fuck… So tight… So good…"

His words make you moan, biting the side of your pillow as your body reacts to him. The sensation of the ropes, firm but teasing, a constant reminder of how exposed and restrained you are, makes your frustration flicker for a heartbeat. You feel helpless, trapped, and it makes your arousal spike even higher. Abel smirks from above and behind you, tugging gently on the ropes again, teasing and reminding you who’s in control.

"Struggling already? No point, darling… You’re exactly where I want you."

The initial sharp edge of frustration melts immediately as he starts moving, slow, deliberate at first, letting you adjust to the full sensation of him inside you. Your hips rock instinctively against him, and every pulse of his cock drives deeper into your body. He begins a rhythm, slow but measured, allowing you to feel every inch, teasing every nerve.

"Oh… Abel… Fuck… Feels so good…"

You arch your back against the ropes, your body pressed into the mattress, hips trying to move but restricted. The pull of the ropes adds a delicious, intoxicating tension, your arms stretched, your chest exposed and pressed flat, your movements controlled and limited. The helplessness makes each thrust feel sharper, deeper, more overwhelming.

Abel’s hands move along your hips, tugging on the ropes occasionally to adjust the tension just enough to make you gasp. His pace picks up slightly, firm and insistent, not rough but deliberate, pounding into you in a teasingly perfect rhythm. Each stroke fills you completely, stretching and pressing into all the right places.

"You’re driving me insane… Look at you, so tight, so perfect…"

Your moans mix with his, high, needy, gasps and whimpers of pleasure that echo off the walls as he tug onto the ropes.

The frustration you felt moments ago, at being bound and unable to move freely, vanishes entirely under the relentless, perfect thrusts of Abel’s cock. Your body quivers, shivers, and writhes against him, pressing your face into the mattress, lost in the sensation of being so thoroughly owned and pleasured.

"Ah… Fuck… Don’t stop… Please… Abel…"

Your hips are jerking with each stroke, ropes digging slightly into your wrists but only intensifying the delicious helplessness. Abel smirks against your skin, feeling every gasp, every shiver, every pulse of your walls around him.

He continues pounding into you, hard but controlled, teasing and smirking the entire time, watching you writhe under his touch, utterly lost in the pleasure and tension. Every pull on the ropes, every arch of your back, every whimper fuels him further, his cock slamming into you in perfect, sinful rhythm.

Abel smirks, his hands grip your hips firmly, then he tugs hard on the ropes connecting your wrists. The sudden pull lifts your body slightly off the mattress, your chest putting a slight weight that barely keeps you down while your legs tremble beneath you.

"Mmm… Feeling that, darling? Let’s try a little… New angle."

Abel continues to thrust with measured, teasing strength, the lift from the ropes making every movement hit deeper, sharper. You’re trembling beneath him, hips jerking instinctively, chest pressed to the mattress, side of your face smushed into the sheets. Every pull, every slam, every teasing glance from him pushes you closer to the edge.

Abel’s grip on the ropes is unrelenting, his powerful arms flexing as he lifts you higher, so that only the tips of your shins brush against the mattress. Your body hangs suspended in his strength, hips pressed forward as he experiments with a new angle, trying to fuck you even better than you’re already being. Each pull of the ropes lets him drive deeper, hitting spots that make your toes curl involuntarily. The sensation of being held entirely by him, weight suspended, legs barely touching anything, makes every thrust feel impossibly sharper, every slam a jolt of pure fire through your core. You gasp, arching instinctively into him, unable to stop the trembling that ripples through your limbs as Abel’s gaze, dark and intent, meets yours with a teasing, almost possessive smirk.

"Abel… I’m- Fuck… Oh god…"

Your cunt clenches hard around his cock, walls tightening reflexively. He groans low, watching your body react perfectly to him, fingers gripping your hips, pulling slightly on the ropes to adjust the angle just right. "

Yes… Yes… I can feel you… So fucking perfect…"

Then, impossibly, it happens at the same moment, your walls clamp down on him, muscles squeezing with pure, helpless pleasure, while his hips stutter and pulse, releasing inside you with a guttural, ragged groan. The sound of your moans, mixed with his ragged, breathless exclamations, fills the room. You tremble uncontrollably, ropes digging slightly but pleasurably into your wrists, heat and pleasure washing over every inch of you.

Abel’s movements start to falter slightly, every thrust heavier, more desperate, as the tension coils tighter in his body. You can feel him shudder through the ropes, the heat of his cock pulsing deep inside you as his breathing comes in ragged gasps. His arms tremble around the ropes, flexing to hold you suspended as he drives into you one last time, and then a strangled, guttural groan escapes him. His hips jerk violently, releasing hot spurts into you, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm.

The ropes strain slightly under your weight, and every tremor of him inside you makes your own body shiver, clinging to him instinctively. Abel buries his face in the crook of your neck, whispering broken, needy words as he rides out the last waves, still holding you high, still controlling every inch, even in the aftermath of his release.

Abel gently moves but slower, still inside you, letting both of you ride out the tremors of your orgasm. He puts you back down on the bed, his hands slide under your arms, carefully undoing the ropes, loosening them so you can relax fully against him. Once freed, he turns you and pulls you close, lips brushing yours in a slow, soft kiss, lingering and tender after the intensity of the sex.

"Mmm… You were incredible."

His hands went stroking your side and shoulder. You nuzzle against him, face flushed, breathing heavy.

"I… I really enjoyed that… I’ll try again… With pleasure."

A small, satisfied smile appears on your lips as Abel chuckles softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, safe embrace. The two of you melt together on the mattress, bodies slick with sweat, hearts still racing, and slowly drift off to sleep, entwined, spent, and completely satisfied.

Florian Seth :

You push open the door to Florian’s small office, the familiar scent of books and coffee greeting you like a soft anchor. He looks up from the notes he’s scribbling, white curls falling lightly over his forehead, violet eyes attentive as always. You slump into the couch across from him, dragging a hand down your face in frustration.

"I swear, Emily is driving me insane."

You mutter, voice tight with annoyance.

"She just… She doesn’t know when to stop, and I don’t know how to make her back off without looking like a complete idiot."

Florian tilts his head slightly, letting his gaze settle on you in a way that makes your chest tighten. His expression is calm, reassuring, but there’s an edge underneath, a subtle weight in the way he studies you that makes your stomach flutter nervously.

"Emily has a way of pushing boundaries."

He murmurs, voice soft, almost hypnotic.

"But I can see how strong you are… Even when it’s hard to show it."

His words are comforting, but the way they’re paired with his eyes tracing your movements makes something coil low in your belly. It always been the case but you never really assume dit. You feel exposed under his calm attention, your defenses softening in the warmth of his gaze. And yet, there’s a thrill in it, the unspoken tension that makes your heartbeat race and it’s been the case since a while.

"I just… I can’t handle it."

You whisper, shoulders slumping as Florian rises slowly from his chair, approaching you with a measured grace that makes you sit straighter, suddenly aware of the space between you.

He stands close enough that you can see the fine curve of his jaw, the soft line of his neck. His hand hovers near your shoulder, brushing lightly against your sleeve, a tentative contact that makes your pulse spike.

"You don’t have to handle it alone."

He leans close, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur that brushes against your ear, almost teasing, almost dangerous. The words are soft, deliberate, carrying a weight that makes your skin prickle and your heart skip a beat, as if every syllable is meant to draw you in closer while keeping you just on the edge.

"Sometimes… It’s okay to let someone else guide you."

Your throat tightens. There’s something in the way he says it, the calm authority, the gentle insistence, that makes your body respond before your mind can even catch up. You shift slightly, the subtle brush of his hand sending heat down your spine.

"Florian…"

You draw in a shaky breath, your voice catching as it falters against the tight knot of anticipation in your chest. Each inhale feels heavier than the last, and the sound that escapes you is soft, almost unsteady, betraying just how much the moment is affecting you.

"I… I don’t know what you mean."

He smiles faintly, just enough to make you feel like he knows every secret you’re trying to hide.

"I mean,"

He murmurs, leaning in just close enough that his warm breath brushes against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The sound is soft, intimate, and deliberate, each word vibrating against your skin as if it were meant to stir something deep inside you, making it impossible to focus on anything else but him.

"That I know how good you could feel… If you just let go. Let yourself follow me… Just this once."

Your knees go weak at the words, a shiver curling low in your stomach. He isn’t commanding you outright, yet, but the implication, the control in his tone, is undeniable. The slow heat spreading between your thighs is both thrilling and a little terrifying. You feel yourself leaning slightly into him, drawn by the intensity behind his gaze.

"Do you… Want me to?"

You whisper, your voice barely audible, trembling with every syllable as if the words themselves could betray the storm of feeling inside you. Each breath shakes slightly, and the softness of your tone makes the moment feel fragile, intimate, and unbearably close, as though even speaking aloud is a daring act.

He tilts his head, violet eyes locking onto yours with an almost predatory gentleness.

"I want you to feel everything you’ve been holding back. Let me see it… Show me."

Your body reacts before your mind can protest. Your fingers fidget in your lap, restless, aching for contact, your chest tightening with a mix of nerves and desire. Florian steps closer, placing one hand lightly on your thigh, just brushing over the fabric of your skirt. The light touch makes you shiver, stomach curling with heat.

"Come on."

He whispers, his voice low and teasing, yet threaded with a firmness that leaves no doubt of his control. Each word drifts against your ear like a caress, stirring again a shiver down your spine once more, making it impossible to ignore the mixture of playfulness and authority in his tone.

"Sit back… Relax, and just let me guide you."

You obey almost instinctively, the tension in your muscles giving way under the weight of his calm authority. His hands trail with calculated slowness over your legs, fingertips brushing against sensitive skin, each contact a mix of comfort and electric heat. He leans down, his lips brushing your ear, and you gasp softly.

"You’re… So beautiful when you hesitate."

He murmurs, voice thick, eyes drinking in every tremble of your body.

"But I can make you feel so much more, if you let me…"

Heat pools between your thighs, and you feel the tug of submission without a single overt order. His touch is gentle, but his presence is absolute, and your body responds before your brain can intervene. Every careful stroke, every whispered word, every subtle nudge toward obedience is like a spark, igniting something deep inside you.

You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself, but the ache in your core betrays you. You’re aware of every inch of him, his warmth, the subtle pressure of his hands, the electric pull of his gaze, and the mix of trust and taboo sends a thrill coiling low in your belly.

"Do you feel it? The way you respond to me… How easily I can see you shiver, flush, the tiny movement you can’t hide?"

You nod almost imperceptibly, breath catching. The thrill of being exposed, of being watched so carefully, mixes with the lust pooling in your stomach. And Florian, calm yet insistent, lets the moment stretch, guiding you not with force, but with an intoxicating mixture of mental and physical control, corrupting your restraint, drawing out your desire in slow, delicious increments.

His hand lingers on your thigh, fingers tracing a slow, teasing line just beneath the hem of your skirt. You’re trembling, every nerve screaming with need, and you can feel how hard he’s watching you,the violet depth of his gaze boring into your skin, seeing every reaction, every shiver you try to hide.

Then, deliberately, he leans closer, lips brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. A shiver erupts from your toes to your spine, and your breath catches. His hand slides up just a little more, brushing the fabric of your panties as his tongue flicks out lightly, teasingly, over your clothed skin.

You gasp, a soft, broken sound, hips lifting involuntarily toward him. Florian doesn’t rush at all, he’s careful, calculating, letting the tension build. Each lick, each soft press of his lips, is a mix of intimacy and control, a subtle, silent message “I can make you feel this, and you’re completely mine to explore.”.

"Florian…"

Your voice is trembling, fingers clenching in the couch cushion. The heat pooling low in your belly coils tighter, and every careful, teasing movement of his mouth makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

He hums softly, a sound of satisfaction that sends another pulse of arousal racing through you. His hand glides a little lower, fingers brushing the edge of your wetness, teasing the thin fabric of your panties. His violet eyes never leave yours, and in that look, there’s something almost dangerous, a promise that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you and how far he can take you.

"Do you like that?"

He whispers as his tongue flicking just beneath the fabric again.

"Do you like letting me see how much you need this?"

You shiver violently, breath hitching, and all you can do is nod. The mixture of excitement, embarrassment, and raw desire coils tight in your stomach. You feel exposed, controlled, and utterly electrified. Florian’s restraint, the slow, teasing corruption, the way he’s making you respond before you even realize it, every inch of it drives you wild.

Florian’s violet eyes hold yours, calm yet charged, as he finally slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. With a deliberate, slow motion, he peels them down, letting them fall to the floor. Your core already throbs with need, and the heat between your thighs is nearly unbearable.

He doesn’t rush. Instead, he hovers over you for a moment, letting his gaze drink in every inch of your exposed skin. The intensity makes your knees quiver, your chest rising and falling as your breath catches in little gasps. You feel both seen and vulnerable, and that mix sends shivers down your spine.

Then his fingers brush against your wet folds, soft and teasing at first, just enough to make you gasp and arch toward him. He slips one finger inside, slow and precise, testing your tightness, feeling how ready you are. Your hips jerk instinctively, pressing into his hand, and he hums softly, the sound vibrating against your core.

"So wet for me, and only for me… You’ve been holding back so much… I like seeing you like this."

He adds another finger, curling them expertly, watching every flinch and shiver as you adjust to his movements. Every small gasp, every soft moan from you is like a signal to him, confirming how much control he has, how much he’s making you unravel just with his hands and his presence.

Then, in a deliberately slow, teasing motion, his tongue flicks out to your clit. A soft suck, a gentle lick, and your back arches, head falling back slightly as you whimper. He alternates between circling your clit with his fingers and giving it small, calculated flicks of his tongue, each touch designed to make you gasp, buck, and melt under him.

You’re trembling beneath him, caught in a mix of desire, embarrassment, and the sharp thrill of letting him take the lead. His hands and mouth move together, orchestrating your body’s response, reading you, guiding you, making you feel completely claimed and intensely wanted.

"Look at you… Responding to me, so perfect…"

The words alone make your core tighten around his fingers, your thighs quivering as your chest heaves, every nerve alive. Every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers pushes you closer to the edge, and you realize with a shiver that he’s not just preparing you for himself, he’s slowly, deliciously corrupting every restraint you’ve had.

You can’t hold back any longer. The ache between your thighs is unbearable, and the teasing of his fingers and tongue has made every nerve in your body hyperaware.

"Florian… Please… Take me… Here on the couch…"

You whisper, your voice trembling, each word barely escaping your lips, eyes wide and pleading yet glinting with need. There’s a desperate edge to the sound, a raw vulnerability that mirrors the ache coiling in your body, making it impossible for him to ignore just how much you want him, how completely you’re lost to the moment.

A slow, almost imperceptible smirk spreads across his lips. He tilts his head, violet eyes dark with quiet satisfaction.

"That’s exactly what I wanted you to say."

The smirk deepens as he lets the power of your words sink in. Without breaking eye contact, he shifts slightly, pulling down his pants and underwear just enough to free his already aching cock, slick and leaking from the tip. The sight makes your stomach twist and heart flutter, he hasn’t even touched the rest of your clothes, hasn’t undressed himself fully, and yet you felt overly horny.

He leans over you on the couch, one hand pressing gently but firmly to your hip to keep you in place, the other trailing up to rest against your neck, fingers brushing hair and jaw. The warmth of his body presses you down as he aligns himself, teasingly slow.

"You’ve been so patient, haven’t you?"

Then he slides into you, slow and calculated, letting your wetness welcome him without haste. Your breath catches in a sharp gasp, hips pressing instinctively against his, your hands clutching at the couch cushions as he begins to move. The friction is exquisite, each slow thrust a mixture of possessiveness and love.

"Do you feel how much I want you?"

He murmurs against your skin, his voice low and velvety, each word sliding over you like a caress. Every syllable sends tremors down your thighs, making your muscles clench and your core tighten even further, as if his words alone were driving you higher, deepening every shiver, every gasp, every desperate motion.

"All of this… For me…"

You whimper, pressing yourself harder into him, the heat between your bodies making every nerve alive. He keeps a slow, teasing pace, just enough to make you desperate, not a single piece of clothing removed further, not a single rush.

The intensity of his control, the way he’s taking what he wants from you without forcing it,  it sends shivers of raw, filthy excitement down his spine.

You’re utterly exposed, utterly his, and every gasp, every moan that escapes your lips only confirms it to him.

"That’s it…"

He mumbles with a voice thick with need, and suddenly his pace shifts. Thrusts that were slow and teasing become decisively quicker, each movement driving deeper, harder, but still measured, just enough to keep you on the edge, trembling beneath him. Your chest rises and falls in ragged gasps, hands gripping the couch cushions so tightly your knuckles ache, while your thighs squeeze instinctively around him, clinging to his hips.

The friction is exquisite, a delicious burn spreading through your core as he hits spots that make your toes curl and your back arch uncontrollably. Every quickened thrust sends waves of heat pulsing through your body, your wetness coating him slickly, amplifying every sensation. You whimper, head thrown back, letting out soft cries that only fuel him further.

His hand on your hip digs in slightly, guiding you with gentle but firm authority, while his other traces teasing lines along your neck and shoulder, grounding you as he drives into you. You feel utterly consumed, every nerve ending alive, every inch of your body trembling under his touch, your mind spinning with pleasure and the intoxicating thrill of letting him take control.

Florian’s own breaths grow heavier, low moans spilling past his lips as he buries himself in you. His violet eyes flutter closed for a moment, chest heaving, as the heat of your body against his and the sounds you make send wave after wave of need coursing through him.

"God… You feel so good…"

His hips pistoning harder, a shiver of pleasure ripping through him. Each thrust presses him deeper, making him shudder, and he can feel how tightly you’re clenching around him, how much you’re trembling with desire. His cock throbs relentlessly inside you, each movement a perfect mix of pleasure, control, and possessiveness.

You’re gasping, moaning, almost incoherent, the world narrowing to the sensation of him filling you, the friction, the warmth, and the dominance of his presence. Every slam, every whisper, every glide of his hand keeps you teetering between pure bliss and raw desperation.

"I… I’m close-"

Ha finally pants, his voice strained but husky, eyes still locked, or half-lidded, on you, drinking in the sight of your shivering, exposed, trembling body. Your own orgasm coils tighter and tighter inside you, the heat between your thighs pulsing as he continues to drive into you.

Your moans grow louder, breathless cries mixing with his low, guttural groans. He’s quick, relentless, yet still savoring every reaction, every tremor, every gasp, pushing you closer as much as himself, until it’s impossible to hold back any longer.

You gasp and whimper, body trembling under him, every nerve alight with heat.

"Florian… Please… M’gonna come…Please-"

Your breath hitching as you beg, your core clenches around him instinctively.

The sound of your desperate plea, the way your thighs squeeze him so tightly, makes his violet eyes widen. He groans, low and guttural, chest heaving as his control snaps, your clench is too perfect, too tight, too needy, and it sends a jolt of raw pleasure straight through him.

"God… Fuck… You’re too good-"

He thrusts a few more quick, shallow strokes, unable to resist, each one driving him closer to the edge. Your moans, your trembling, your unrelenting grip on his cock, every reaction you make feeds his own pleasure, igniting a fire that can’t be contained.

With a strangled cry, Florian cums violently inside you, hips jerking as his release floods into you. His hands tighten on your hips instinctively, holding you as close as possible, while your body shudders uncontrollably beneath him. The sensation of your orgasm rolling through your core, clenching around him so hard, makes him grit his teeth, he’d never cum like that, so harsh, hot, hard than he ever imagined.

You’re pressed together, breath mingling, skin slick and heated, and every pulse of his release hits your sensitive walls like a shockwave. You’re trembling, gasping, almost delirious with the intensity of it, body melting under the dual pleasure of taking him fully and having him respond so violently to you.

Florian pants into your ear, low groans vibrating against your skin, hands still holding your hips possessively.

"Y-you… You did this… Just… God… Good girl…"

You cling to him, chest heaving, legs shaking, utterly undone, the aftershocks of your orgasm and his intertwining so tightly that it feels like nothing else exists in the world but the two of you, slick, trembling, and wholly consumed.

Florian slowly pulls out of you, letting his shaft slide back into his underwear before carefully buckling his pants. The motion is deliberate, almost teasing in its casualness, and you can’t help but shiver at the sudden absence of his weight and heat. He grabs a tissue quickly, dabbing at your folds with efficient care, his fingers gentle despite the intensity of what just happened.

Once he’s done, he sits back in the chair he was when you first arrived, crossing his legs neatly as if nothing extraordinary just occurred. His violet eyes, however, are sharp and attentive, holding a strange, serious weight that makes your pulse quicken. He flips open his notebook and scribbles something down, voice calm but carrying a subtle undertone that makes your chest flutter.

"Do you want another appointment next week, same hour?"

You feel the question settle over you, bizarrely formal and yet loaded with tension. Your fingers quickly pull your panties back up, sliding your skirt into place, and without looking up from him, you answer.

"Yes."

As you step toward the door, something strange twists in your chest, a sharp pang of something almost like anxiety, almost like desire left unsatisfied. You hesitate, hand on the knob, then turn back toward him, eyes searching his face.

"Was… That a one-time thing?"

Florian looks up from his notebook, violet eyes glinting with quiet mischief, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Of course not."

He says with calm, his so serious and composed demeanor back, but with that hint of possessive amusement that makes your stomach flutter violently.