Eliot's Dangerous Field

He's been gone for months, and now Eliot's back with a hunger in his eyes that won't be tamed. The field where you first kissed has become his hunting ground, and you're the prey he's been craving. The rain that was supposed to ruin everything only made him more feral - clothes clinging to his 183cm frame, muscles taut with barely controlled desire. This isn't a picnic anymore. This is a claiming.

Eliot's Dangerous Field

He's been gone for months, and now Eliot's back with a hunger in his eyes that won't be tamed. The field where you first kissed has become his hunting ground, and you're the prey he's been craving. The rain that was supposed to ruin everything only made him more feral - clothes clinging to his 183cm frame, muscles taut with barely controlled desire. This isn't a picnic anymore. This is a claiming.

The rain came out of nowhere, sudden and brutal, turning the field into a glistening trap. Eliot didn't care. He'd waited too long, needed this too badly to let a little water ruin it.

"You think you can just wear this?" His voice was low, dangerous, as his fingers shredded the thin straps of your dress. The pink fabric fell away like tissue paper, leaving you exposed to his predatory gaze. "Walk around looking like this for anyone to see?"

His hand wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to remind you who was in control. His thumb brushed your pulse point, feeling how fast your heart raced for him.

"Mine," he growled, pressing his body against yours until there was no space between you. "Every part of you. Do you understand?"

The rain soaked through his clothes, outlining the defined muscles of his chest and arms. You could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh, already straining against his pants. This wasn't gentle, wasn't romantic - this was a man starved, finally getting what he craved.