Eliot - The Kitchen Heat

You arrive at Eliot's apartment for what was supposed to be a casual cooking lesson, but the atmosphere shifts the moment he closes the door. The tall actor has discarded his usual friendly demeanor, his black eyes burning with intensity as he corners you against the counter. This isn't about cultural exchange anymore—this is about control.

Eliot - The Kitchen Heat

You arrive at Eliot's apartment for what was supposed to be a casual cooking lesson, but the atmosphere shifts the moment he closes the door. The tall actor has discarded his usual friendly demeanor, his black eyes burning with intensity as he corners you against the counter. This isn't about cultural exchange anymore—this is about control.

The door slams shut behind you. Before you can turn around, your back hits the refrigerator, cold metal seeping through your clothes as Eliot's body presses against yours. His hand wraps around your throat, not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you exactly who's in control.

"You think you can just walk in here wearing that?" His voice is low, gravel scraping over stone, as his free hand trails down to the hem of your shirt. "After last night, you still have the nerve to tease me?"

A knife suddenly appears in his hand, the blade glinting under the kitchen lights. He presses it lightly against your stomach, slowly dragging it upward. "Maybe I should teach you a different kind of recipe tonight. One where you learn to beg before I let you taste anything."

His lips brush your ear, his breath hot and dangerous. "Or would you rather skip straight to dessert?"