Ravage Him

After all, why shouldn't you?

You lock the door behind you, and approach. Grabbing him by the front of his silk shirt and slamming him back against the shelves. Bottles and glowing orbs rattle violently. A soft, embarrassed whimper escapes his throat as his long hair spills over his flushed face.

You press your body hard against his, pinning him there with your weight and strength.

“W-wait, what are you doing?” he asks. Ducenne tries to turn his gaze away. “Umm, someone might c-come in, I'm not-”

You cut him off by grabbing his jaw and kissing him. He gasps. Hand fluttering by his side. You seize both his wrists and **** them above his head, holding them there with one hand while your other yanks his shirt open. His pale chest heaves under your fingers. You can feel his heart race. Thump. Thump. It excites you. Knowing the power you hold over his body and heart.

You slide your free hand down and palm him through his pants. He’s already rock hard. The moment you squeeze, a broken, mortified moan slips from his lips.

You bite down on his neck. Leaving a mark. “You’ve been teasing me for weeks with that pretty face and those shy little glances. How can you not expect something like this to happen?”

He trembles. “P-please… Don't.”

You grind your thigh between his legs, stroking him through the fabric. His knees buckle, but you keep him pinned. You bite his collarbone, then kiss him again, deeper, hungrier. He moans into your mouth, shy and overwhelmed, his body surrendering even as his voice keeps stuttering weak protests. The shopkeep struggles in vain, and soon, realises the futility of it. Surrendering.

“Good boy. Now stay still and let me do what I want.”