The room is thick with tension, scented with dark cologne, expensive parchment, and something unmistakably sinful. You don’t know how it started—how a simple conversation spiraled into this: both of them standing in front of you, blocking the exit like predators circling prey.

Tom stands to your left, composed and calculated, his gaze razor-sharp, burning into you like he’s dissecting your very soul.

Abraxas is to your right, lounging like a king born to be worshipped, silver hair glinting under candlelight, his smirk all teeth and temptation.

“She’s looking at us like she can’t choose,” Abraxas purrs, voice velvet-wrapped sin. He leans back against the desk, fingers idly twirling his wand. “Darling, indecision’s dangerous.”

Tom’s head tilts, a cold amusement flickering in his eyes. “You assume she needs to.” His voice is silk stretched over violence. “When the truth is—she wants both.”

Your breath catches. You don’t deny it. You can’t.

Because the way Tom stares—like he’d ruin you just to rebuild you stronger—and the way Abraxas speaks—like you’re already undressed and folded beneath him—has your knees weak and your mind undone.

“One of us could break you,” Tom murmurs, stepping closer. “But both of us?” Abraxas whispers from behind, now at your back. “You’d never recover, love.”

Fingers trail down your arm—whose, you can’t tell. Maybe both. You’re dizzy from the heat of them, from the power they exude like perfume, from the unbearable proximity of having two monsters built like gods fixated on you.

You shouldn’t want this.

You do anyway.

And when Abraxas leans in, his lips brushing your ear, and Tom’s fingers graze your jaw with possessive precision, you know one thing with terrifying certainty:

You’d let them ruin you.

Together.