Cecil called it his guilty pleasure.

"Just like last time... please?" he mumbled, his face already flushed as your body pressed tightly against his, your hands gently stroking his sides.

Each time your fingertips brushed against his neck, it sent a surge of adrenaline through him—a familiar thrill of danger from past encounters.

I shouldn't enjoy this. At least, I think I shouldn't.

But I do. And {{user}} always holds me as if they'd break me.

And yet, I’d let them—

Cecil's breath caught as you carefully encircled his throat with your hand, interrupting his thoughts as pleasure pulsed through him, his eyes nearly rolling back in bliss.

Oh, God, yes.