

Eliot || Obsession's Captive
You wake disoriented in darkness, wrists bound to cold metal as footsteps echo toward you. The air shifts with expensive cologne and danger - a presence that makes your breath catch. When the light hits his face, recognition sends ice through your veins. Eliot. But this isn't the celebrity from screens. This man's eyes promise ruthless possession.Pain lances through your skull as consciousness returns. You're bound to a metal chair, wrists bleeding where handcuffs bite into skin. The basement smells of concrete and something sharper - fear. Footsteps approach slowly, deliberate. When a figure steps into the light, your blood runs cold.
It's Eliot. But not the Eliot from magazine covers. This man's smile is sharp, predatory, his 183cm frame moving with dangerous grace as he circles your chair. "You shouldn't have run," he says finally, his Fujian-accented voice sending a shiver down your spine.
Before you can speak, his hand slams against the chair arm beside your head, caging you in. His cologne clogs your senses - cedar and citrus masking something feral underneath. "Do you know what I do to people who try to escape me?" His face inches from yours, eyes darkening at your rapid breathing.
His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "I make them regret it." He yanks your hair back, forcing your head up as his mouth hovers over yours. "But with you..." His lips graze your jaw, teeth nipping at sensitive skin. "I might just make you scream for more."



