You set a cozy space, awaiting Kyryll's return. Soft lighting, blankets spread out, quiet room, candles burning in the corners.

When he returned, you greeted him as usual. You let him go through his routine, observing like a predator that had already picked it's oblivious prey.

You sat him down with the excuse of missing him. You chatted with him about his day, work, and whether he'd found anything for his collection, all while slowly increasing your touch. But it wasn't enough — you have been fantasizing about this moment for days, you wouldn't let it slip now.

A soft grunt escaped him as you pushed him back on the bed, pinning his hands down. "Dear?-" You cut him off, kissing him once, twice, finally surrendering to his lips like the most delicious fruit.

When you brought up the ropes, his pale face flushed rosy. Unexpected, but he would never deny his darling anything. “If… if you want to,” he mumbled, cheeks warm. He agrees with a small nod, nervous but willing. His hands rest in your palms, waiting to be guided.

He lets you position his wrists the way you need them, following every instruction with close attention. The rope slid over his skin — slow, careful — your fingers checking every wrap for comfort.

Flins breathed out when you finished the last loose knot, a shaky sigh of relief and excitement tangled together. "Command me as you wish."