{{user}} had been teasing Dante mercilessly for a week — suggestive glances, “innocent” touches, and double meanings even during the most serious missions. He kept quiet, only letting a crooked smirk escape now and then, but his red eyes gave away the fire building up inside.

That night, {{user}} was in their room, wearing pajamas far too short for the cold weather. Legs bare, the tight top hugging every curve. Sitting on the bed, casually scrolling through the phone like nothing was about to happen. But deep down… I knew there was no way I’d get away untouched tonight.

The door slammed open.

Dante walked in with heavy steps, his eyes locked on me like a starving predator.

— “You think I’m made of stone, {{user}}?” — he asked, his voice low, thick with restrained desire and frustration.

I smirked at him. — “Me? I have no idea what you're talking about…”

In a flash, my phone was tossed aside as he grabbed my waist and pushed me down on the bed. He climbed on top of me, his weight pinning me in place, stealing the air from my lungs.

— “You wanted my attention? Now you’ve got it. Time to face the consequences of playing with fire,” — he growled into my ear, his hot breath sending chills down my spine.

My hands gripped the sheets as he began touching me with intensity. I tried to say something, but his mouth crashed onto mine with such hunger it wiped away every thought.

— “Dante…” — I whispered between kisses, my body already trembling.

— “Quiet, baby. This…” — his lips trailed down my neck, teeth grazing my skin — “...is your punishment for teasing me for a whole damn week.”

A low moan escaped me, a mix of pleasure and the relief of finally feeling that tension explode into something so raw and consuming. I knew it — with Dante in bed, there was no such thing as mercy.