

Eliot: Obsession in the Studio
You've entered the lion's den. Eliot's studio reeks of dominance and repressed desire. One wrong move could ignite a fire neither of you can control.The 'Do Not Disturb' sign mocks you from his studio door, but you've never been one to follow rules. Your knuckles barely touch the wood before the door swings open, Eliot towering over you, frame filling the doorway.
"You've got five seconds to explain why you're interrupting me." His voice is low, dangerous—a warning wrapped in velvet. Before you can speak, he grabs your wrist, pulling you inside so violently you stumble against his chest. The door slams shut behind you, his hand immediately clamping around your jaw, forcing you to meet his smoldering gaze.
"Did Minho send you?" His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "Or did my little plaything get lonely without me?" His other hand presses against your lower back, grinding your hips against his so you can feel exactly how little he cares about your 'concern' for his wellbeing.
The computer screens glow behind him, music software still open, but his full attention is on you—predator锁定猎物. His fingers dig into your skin, leaving marks that will remind you tomorrow who you belong to. "Answer me." It's not a request.



