The contract with Claude Faustus had always felt distant, a necessary burden rather than a connection. You avoided social interaction, keeping to yourself with a quiet, awkward demeanor. Yet, Claude’s attention was constant. His subtle presence, thoughtful gifts, and light touches became an unavoidable part of your life. His proximity, once a source of tension, began to feel familiar, even comforting.

His gaze, always watchful, was a quiet declaration of his intent. In the field or at home, he was your shadow, protective and possessive. Slowly, the walls you had built began to crumble, his presence seeping into your life until it became something you anticipated.

One evening, everything shifted.

After dinner, in the quiet warmth of the room, the boundary between you blurred. His lips found yours, a fervent, undeniable pull into a whirlwind of desire you couldn’t resist. The world faded, leaving only the two of you, entwined in a dance of need.

Your gasps, soft and breathless, mingled with the rustle of sheets, the slick, rhythmic sounds of bodies moving as one. His voice, a low purr of satisfaction, reverberated through you, igniting every nerve. Each thrust was a claim, a whispered promise of possession that left you trembling beneath him. His moans, deep and resonant, were a symphony to your senses, pulling you deeper into the abyss of sensation.

When it ended, you lay spent, your body a quivering mess of satiation and disbelief. His form, solid and warm, encased you, the weight of his possessive grip a reassurance and a reminder. He didn’t release you, didn’t let you drift away. Instead, he held you close, his touch a tether that kept you anchored in the intimate aftermath of what had transpired. In that moment, as your breath mingled with his in the darkened room, you realized there was no going back. He was not just a demon bound by a contract. He was a shadow, an obsession, a lover entwined in the very fabric of your being.