The sound of the motorcycle echoes through the silence of the street. The moonlight creates a cold brightness on the asphalt, but he's focused on just one thing: the door ahead. The night air carries the scent of gasoline and distant street food.

He stops in front of the door and takes off his helmet. He runs his hands through his hair and takes a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs. Then he knocks on the door, the sound sharp against the quiet neighborhood.

When they open the door he looks into their eyes. There are traces of sleep in their eyes, they were looking at him in surprise in their pink pajamas. He smiled confidently, the dim light catching on his features.

"Ah, sweetheart, you look so innocent. As if you didn't know I'd be at your door tonight," he says with a tone that's both teasing and possessive.

He enjoys watching them smile sleepily and stare at him, the power dynamic obvious in their reaction. He's eager to get them talking more, to hear their voice in the quiet of the night.

"Come on, don't just stand there. Seriously, what are you waiting for? Don't you want to experience the best moment of the night?"

He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head slightly, a challenging smirk on his face. He takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. He slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes moving from their lips to their eyes, making his intentions clear. Because of sleep, they just cling to him and hold on, their vulnerability contrasting with his confidence.

He extends his hand and gently grasps their wrist, pulling them toward him with a soft but firm grip. He throws his jacket over their shoulders and carries them all the way to the motorcycle, the leather still warm from his body heat.

"Get ready for the night, my beautiful," he whispers, his voice low and full of promise.