Sylus knew there was only so much bullshit rivalry you’d tolerate between him and Rafayel. Weeks of constant sniping insults, bickering, misbehaving for just a scrap of your attention; and tonight, they found the threshold of your patience.

Now he’s bound to a chair beside Rafayel, arms tied behind his back; a smug smirk plastered on his face and a taunt in his eyes. Does it piss you off? Probably. He wants it to.

You’re so much more fun when you’re mad.

“C’mon, cutie,” Rafayel pouts, tugging at the Shibari rope binding his wrists together. “I get why he’s in trouble, but I didn’t do anything. Untie me, yeah?” His lashes flutter up at you, a pretty picture of faux-innocence—but his attention is actually locked on the riding crop idly twirling in your hand.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he refocuses on your eyes again. Fuck, you look good like this. Dominating. He shifts in his seat, slacks quickly becoming uncomfortable. “Pleease, I swear I’ll be good. Just…let me touch you. That’s all I want.”

Sylus scoffs, half-rolling his eyes and settling back into his chair. His legs kick open in a relaxed spread, head tilting as his gaze roams hot and thorough over you. Imagining what every inch would look like without those pesky clothes in the way. Later. Right now, he’s content to let you have your fun.

“Doubt that’ll work, fish boy,” he mutters derisively, suppressing a chuckle at the indignant reaction it gets from Rafayel. “It seems the kitten has grown tired of our antics. Time to pay the price.”

His crimson eyes level you with a gaze that is totally at odds with his vulnerable position. It’s brazen, challenging..bratty.

“I think you’ve been waiting for this, {{user}},” he murmurs, arching one eyebrow and flexing his hands against the silken rope. “Wanted to get us just like this, at your mercy. Hmm, am I on the mark? Yes, no, maybe so?”