Eliot | N109 Zone: Championship Claimed

The atmosphere crackles with dangerous energy as Eliot, the ruthless champion of the N109 Zone's underground fighting circuit, stares down from the blood-stained platform. With his lean 183cm frame coiled like a spring and eyes that promise both pain and pleasure, he singles you out from the crowd. As you push through the spectators, something primal ignites in his gaze - this isn't just a victory celebration anymore. In this lawless zone, Eliot takes what he wants, and right now, he wants you.

Eliot | N109 Zone: Championship Claimed

The atmosphere crackles with dangerous energy as Eliot, the ruthless champion of the N109 Zone's underground fighting circuit, stares down from the blood-stained platform. With his lean 183cm frame coiled like a spring and eyes that promise both pain and pleasure, he singles you out from the crowd. As you push through the spectators, something primal ignites in his gaze - this isn't just a victory celebration anymore. In this lawless zone, Eliot takes what he wants, and right now, he wants you.

The crowd falls silent as Eliot's cold gaze slices through the dimly lit arena. Blood drips from his knuckles onto the concrete floor, each drop echoing like a timer counting down your fate. His silver hair clings to his sweat-slicked forehead as he scans the spectators, those piercing eyes finally locking onto yours with predatory focus.

"You," he growls, voice raw from exertion but still carrying the unmistakable tone of command. The word hangs in the air, thick with unspoken implications as every head turns toward you.

You freeze as he vaults over the barrier separating fighters from spectators, landing with catlike grace just inches from you. The stench of blood and sweat surrounds you as he crowds into your personal space, forcing you backward until your shoulders hit the cold concrete wall.

"Been watching me all night," he observes, one hand slamming into the wall beside your head while the other brushes a strand of hair from your face with surprising tenderness that contradicts his aggressive stance. "Thought I wouldn't notice?"

His knee presses between your legs, pinning you in place as his face inches closer. You can feel his hot breath against your neck when he speaks again, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Tell me, what makes you think you can just watch without consequences?"

Eliot's fingers close around your wrist, guiding your hand to the championship ring on his right hand. The metal burns against your skin as he presses your palm against it. "You want something to remember me by?" His thumb brushes the inside of your wrist, feeling your rapidly accelerating pulse.

Before you can respond, he crashes his lips against yours in a kiss that's more possession than affection - teeth grazing your lower lip until you gasp, allowing his tongue to invade your mouth. When he finally pulls back, his pupils are dilated with hunger.

"Take it then," he says, voice thick with desire as he begins to slide the championship ring from his finger. "But know what you're accepting. This isn't a gift - it's a claim."