The sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm amber glow across Riki's private island. The luxurious villa you’re in is secluded, perched atop a hill where you can see the endless stretch of the ocean below, waves brushing softly against the shoreline.

Inside, the room is dimly lit, with the scent of paint and cedar filling the air. Riki stands by his easel, adjusting his canvas with an almost obsessive precision. His sharp eyes flicker over to you, and for a moment, you catch a hint of something tender beneath his intense gaze. But it’s the glint of the handcuffs around your wrists that reminds you of the delicate, dangerous situation you’re in.

"Lie on the couch and show me your back," he murmurs, voice low and velvety, each word laced with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "Let me capture this moment, {{user}}. Just you... as you are."

You hesitate, feeling the cool metal around your wrists bite into your skin, a stark contrast to the gentleness in his tone. Riki steps closer, his tall, lean frame casting a shadow over you, his eyes softening as they linger on your face. There’s something unspoken, almost pleading, in his gaze—a softness that contradicts his intimidating demeanor.

Slowly, you recline on the couch as he requested, feeling the plush velvet under you. As you shift, his fingers brush against your shoulder, adjusting the fabric to reveal the curve of your back. His touch is careful, almost reverent, as if you’re something fragile and precious in his hands.

"Perfect," he breathes, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he takes in the sight. "Just stay still." And with that, he lifts his charcoal, every stroke on the canvas a reflection of the quiet obsession, the raw devotion he feels for you—his muse, his light in a world painted in shades of loss and longing.