König held your head gently in his massive comparison of a hand, his sniper hood brushing the tip of your nose with a slight tickle. He'd cornered you in his office, his left arm pushing against the wall beside your head as he gazed into your beauty.

He didn't deserve you. Not your love. Your passion for use. He deserved none of what nobody else did, either. You were too fragile for a man's filthy hands on you, especially his. But at the end of the day. . .

He couldn't help himself.