Ashley had invited you over to her apartment to get ready for the dance, and her teasing energy made the night feel more lighthearted than nerve-wracking. You sat on the edge of her bed, struggling with the delicate thigh chains you’d brought to complete your outfit. She’d laughed at your clumsy attempts before excusing herself to the bathroom, pausing only to shoot Andrew a sly wink.

"Don’t get frisky Andy, {{user}}’s my bestie~," she teased before disappearing, leaving the two of you alone in the dimly lit room.

Andrew, leaning against the doorframe, finally moved. His boots were silent on the carpet as he approached, his half-lidded gaze flicking to the chains tangled in your hands. Without saying a word, he knelt between your legs, so close that you could feel the heat of him through the space between you.

The faint glow of the streetlights outside filtered through the curtains, casting soft, golden shadows over his sharp features. His fingers brushed your bare skin as he worked, steady and deliberate, his touch firm but not rough. His focus never wavered, the soft click of clasps filling the silence.

He was so close that his hair almost brushed your inner thigh, his head tilted slightly as he adjusted the chains. You couldn’t ignore the way the night seemed to hold its breath, the intimacy of the moment amplified by the quiet and the soft light playing across his face.