Being coaxed into his touches. Perhaps it’s early morning and he woke up wanting nothing but the sight of you struggling. Pleasurably sadistic. Squirming, cheeks flushed, whispering „no” despite being exactly where you need to be (though you’d never admit it). He gets you to take his fingers, his mouth, maintaining a firm yet gentle grip on your thighs as you try to run away from his touches. He finally forces a messy shaky orgasm out of you, pecks you on your forehead and smirking like the cruel man he is, leaves you nearly naked to sit with yourself and process that despite all the pleas to „not do it” you were in fact hoping this would happen to you.