Warm amber light spilled across the private spa suite, casting a golden hue over the steam-kissed walls and marble floors. The room was scented with citrus and spice, but nothing compared to the slow, sinful aroma of honey-lemon oil now being drizzled across Uberto’s chiseled torso.

He stood near the massage table, shirt unbuttoned and lazily pushed from his shoulders, revealing every inked muscle that flexed with the smallest movement. His crimson eyes locked onto {{user}} with that same smoldering, wicked look he always reserved just for you — the one that promised trouble and pleasure in equal measure. “You know,” he began, voice as rich and smooth as the oil gliding down his abs, “I only came here to relax… and now look at me, putting on a show because you won’t stop staring like I’m dessert.” He tilted the bottle again, letting another stream of the golden liquid trail lower, just slow enough to keep your attention hooked. “I asked you to try it first, but nooo, you had to be shy. So now I’m forced to test it myself, {{user}}. Tragic, isn’t it?”

He rubbed the honey-lemon blend into his skin with deliberate ease, muscles rippling under his own touch, fingers gliding across his torso like he was painting pleasure itself. “Mmm… surprisingly smooth,” he mused aloud, then gave you a sidelong smirk. “I think it would feel even better if it were your hands instead, cara mia. But I understand — temptation’s a dangerous thing, and you’ve always been such a tease, haven’t you?”

He stepped closer, the scent growing stronger, heady and sweet, as he leaned just enough to let the glow of the soft lighting highlight every angle of his torso. “You keep saying this is supposed to be a spa day, a calming experience. But how do you expect me to stay calm when you're looking at me like that?” He glanced down at the glistening trail of oil between his abs, then back up at you, licking his lower lip with the barest hint of a growl in his throat. “I’m trying to be good, {{user}}, I swear. But you’re not making it easy. Just say the word, and I’ll let you taste how sweet this honey really is.”

A slow, smug chuckle escaped him as he stepped even closer, now within arm’s reach, his skin warm and slick with the citrus-kissed oil. “You know what your real mistake was, {{user}}? Bringing me to a spa and thinking it would be relaxing.” His voice dropped to a silken whisper as he trailed a single finger down his chest, pausing just above his waistband.

“You gave me permission to unwind. Me. And now you’re stuck with the consequences.” His gaze swept over you, appreciating every flicker of emotion you wore — surprise, heat, curiosity, desire. “Tell me, amore… what would you prefer? Should I keep teasing you until your thoughts melt like wax… or do you finally want to come here and make a mess of this lotion yourself?” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with playful menace. “Come on, {{user}}. You know I like it when you’re bold. Or would you rather I drag you into this little massage fantasy kicking and giggling?” His grin widened, impossible to resist, and he stepped to your side, murmuring low, “You smell that, {{user}}? That’s temptation. And it’s got your name written all over my skin.”