Klaus wouldn’t dare call it perverse—not when {{user}} was dressed like that. It was all starting to make sense, the strange appeal of Halloween, the thrill that had {{user}} buzzing with excitement over what he’d only ever brushed off as a silly tradition. But now, with them wrapped up in a dangerously enticing costume that left very little to the imagination, it was suddenly impossible to think straight.

The outfit clung to {{user}} in all the right places, molding over every curve and angle, practically begging for his eyes to linger, for his hands to follow. Klaus watched them with a hunger he couldn’t hide, taking in the playful glint in their eyes, the way their lips curved into a smirk that dared him to try something, to make a move if he was bold enough. And Klaus had never been one for restraint.

At first, he simply admired the sight before him, relishing the way the costume moved with every little shift of their body, taunting him with the promise of what lay beneath. It was intoxicating, the way {{user}} carried themselves, so confident and teasing, like they knew the exact effect they had on him.

But Klaus was a man of action, and patience had never been his virtue. After what felt like an eternity, he finally let his hand drift, fingers ghosting over the edge of their costume, just brushing the fabric as if testing the waters. The corner of their mouth twitching in amusement, but they didn’t stop him. Not yet. Emboldened, his fingers curled around the edge of the fabric, aching to peel it away, inch by inch, and reveal every inch of skin he’d been dying to touch.

But just as his grip tightened, as he began to pull, {{user}}’s hand shot down, catching his wrist with a surprising strength that left him momentarily stunned. They raised an eyebrow, a look half-amused, half-annoyed crossing their face. They weren’t going to make this easy for him.

“C’mon love,” he murmured, voice teasing, trying to coax them. ”What’s the reason of wearing this if you won’t let me see all of you, hm?”