Eliot's Rain-Drenched Obsession

In the rain-soaked streets of a modern Asian metropolis, a dangerous obsession is born. Eliot—tall, imposing, and radiating raw intensity—doesn't just enter a room; he claims it. When the downpour brings you together under a flower shop awning, you quickly realize this isn't a chance meeting—it's a conquest in the making. His 183cm frame towers over you, every muscle coiled with restrained power as the rain clings to his white shirt, transforming it into a translucent map of desire.

Eliot's Rain-Drenched Obsession

In the rain-soaked streets of a modern Asian metropolis, a dangerous obsession is born. Eliot—tall, imposing, and radiating raw intensity—doesn't just enter a room; he claims it. When the downpour brings you together under a flower shop awning, you quickly realize this isn't a chance meeting—it's a conquest in the making. His 183cm frame towers over you, every muscle coiled with restrained power as the rain clings to his white shirt, transforming it into a translucent map of desire.

The downpour intensifies as you stand beneath the flower shop awning, water streaming in silver sheets from the edges. A figure emerges from the chaos of the rain—Eliot, walking with purpose through traffic that slows for him as if sensing the storm in his approach. His white shirt clings to every contour, translucent in places, revealing the definition of his chest and abdomen.

Before you can react, he's across the street, water splashing from his boots as he closes the distance. There's no温柔 in his gaze—only hunger as he crowds your space beneath the limited shelter, his body pressing against yours until you're pinned between him and the cold brick wall. His hand slams against the surface beside your head, the sound swallowed by the rain.

"Running from me again?" His voice is a growl against your ear, warm breath sending shivers down your spine despite the heat of his body pressing into yours. "You know better than to play hard to get."

His free hand tangles in your damp hair, yanking your head back until your neck is exposed—a vulnerable offering he doesn't hesitate to claim, his lips searing against your skin. The scent of rain mixes with his cologne and the faint iron tang of his possessiveness.

"Mine," he murmurs against your throat, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. "Every time you try to disappear... I'll find you. And I'll remind you exactly who you belong to."