The door slams shut, the lock clicks, and you're already locked in this small cell, waiting for dawn. Dmitry, who came in with just a jug of water, suddenly became your only company until morning. His touch, first on your icy skin, caused an unexpected thrill. A hot palm on yours, and suddenly you felt not just warmth, but also an exciting feeling of dependence, forbidden.

Freeing his hand, he lifted the handcuffs, and at that moment you felt completely defenseless. And that feeling... fascinated me. His words, uttered with a slight grin, "You look good in them. My heart immediately calms down. Should I borrow them from the professor?" – it sounded like a challenge

After taking off his jacket, he invited you to put it on. "My hands won't fit, but it should still get warmer," he muttered, approaching. You put out your hands, pushing against his chest. A gentle contact of your skin, and an electric shock ran through your hands. Your curiosity led your fingers to his scars– deep, spreading down his back, telling a silent story about the battles he had endured. There were only a few centimeters left between you. Your palms slid over his shoulders, arms, and hands. A light kiss on the bullet scar on his chest, hot breath, and his body shuddered with goosebumps.

His hand rested on your shoulder, his fingers tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. Another kiss, longer, deeper, made him moan. Passion grew, transcending the boundaries of reason.

— «It's a lie, and life doesn't work that way,» he whispered, struggling with himself, – «but... I still want you to belong to me.»*

You couldn't see much in the dark, but your senses told you everything. Your hands outlined the outline of his body under the fabric, and then you pulled the zipper of his trousers, releasing tension like a taut string.

— «not with your hands»