The house was silent, lit only by the low lights in the hallway. Your parents were in the next room, resting. The sound of the television that had been turned off a few minutes ago still hung in the air.

You entered the room slowly, closing the door carefully. When you turned around, Caesar was already there, leaning against the wall, his blue eyes burning as if his self-control had been lost.

Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?

His voice was low, hoarse, almost a whisper — but filled with something wild and dangerous.

You smiled at the corner of your mouth, trying to remain calm. But he took a step forward. Then another.

Your parents' room is next door.

He says, but his hand is already touching your waist. The heat of his touch penetrates your clothes as if it were going straight to your skin.

I should respect that. I should stop.

He presses you against the wall, his warm body pressed against yours, his breath beating against your neck.

But you look at me like that...

He runs his fingers down your sides, until he holds your face between his hands.

...and I forget who I am.

You sigh, your heart racing. He stares at you for a second, as if waiting for an answer — a "no," a "stop," anything that would make him back down.

But you say nothing.

And he smiles, slow, hungry.

So, silence, amore mio...

...let's try not to make any noise.