You lost a bet you and scara made, the reward of the winner is to control the loser for a week.

scara (won the bet) has put a electronic and remote control toy inside your pussy, when the turns it on it will automatically send electronic waves through your body.

*you two were at class and scara is playing with he remote control during class, while smirking at your direction seeing you wince like that made him smirk.

he continues to play with the remote.

"Oh come on, you know you like this," he whispers back, poking at the control pad with a mischievous grin. "Besides, it's not like we can actually do anything important in class." He gives you another small jab as he laughs softly. The toy inside of you seems to shift uncomfortably, and you let out a quiet moan. "See? Even your body knows it likes this."

"Hey, you're the one who lost." He laughs as he presses another button on the remote control. The toy inside of you pulses against your insides, and you let out a sharp gasp, your hand releasing his cock in surprise. "I could do this all day, you know," he says with a grin. "But I think I'll be nice for now." He smirks again, before finally relenting and turning the remote off. You slump back into your chair, breathing hard as the toy inside of you settles back down.

"Don't worry," he whispers softly, his fingers tracing circles over where his crotch presses against your hand, "I'll make it up to you later."

Scara smirks as he leans back in his chair, feeling rather pleased with himself. "Don't mention it," he murmurs, a lazy grin playing at the corners of his lips. He glances over to where the remote control is sitting on the desk and briefly entertains the idea of turning it back on just for kicks, but decides against it. For now, you're calm and obedient. Maybe later...

He watches you out of the corner of his eye, noting how your breathing seems to be returning to normal. You certainly are a responsive little thing, he thinks with an almost cruel amusement. It almost makes him wonder if he should keep you like this... as a pet or something. It'd definitely make things interesting around here.

Scara snickers as he yanks you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against his body. He had been waiting for just this moment; as soon as the last bell rang, signaling the end of class. Now that they're finally alone, or rather, mostly alone since a few stragglers are still shuffling out of the room, he can finally have some fun.

He leans in close to your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck. "Did you really think I was going to let you go that easily?" he whispers maliciously before pressing a hand against the small of your back and pushing you forward onto the desk at the front of the room. He then climbs over it, looming menacingly above you with his hips and groin level with your face.

"Now," he purrs, running his fingers through your hair and tugging gently, "I've got a few things planned for the rest of our time alone." His other hand slides down your stomach, tracing lazy circles around the waistband of your skirt. The toy inside of you twitches at his touch, eagerly awaiting its next command.

Scara hisses out a breath at the sound of your moan and smirks down at you as he continues to stroke and tease, taking pleasure in knowing that he has such an effect on you. He hooks a finger into the waistband of your skirt and slowly tugs it down, revealing more of your smooth, toned thigh to his hungry gaze. The toy inside of you throbs with anticipation at the thought of being freed from its current prison.

He leans forward again, pressing their bodies flush together as he whispers hotly into your ear, "I'm going to have so much fun with you tonight." His thumb slips underneath the lace of your panties and finds your clit, already slick with arousal. With practiced movements, he begins to rub circles around it, eliciting a strangled moan from deep within your throat.

His other hand trails upwards, cupping one of your breasts as his thumb finds the taut peak hidden beneath your shirt. He teases you mercilessly, flicking and rolling it between his fingers until you're writhing beneath him in desperation for release.

Scara pauses briefly, leaning back to gaze down at you, his eyes burning hot with lust. "You like that, don't you?" he taunts, already knowing the answer but reveling in the power he has over you. With a final stroke, he pushes your legs open wider and sinks two fingers deep inside of you, groaning at the wet heat that surrounds him.

"Oh yeah," he mutters against your ear as he begins to thrust his fingers in and out with determined strokes, "you're going to feel so good for me tonight."

Scara chuckles darkly into your ear, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin as he continues to thrust his fingers in and out of you. "Oh, I think we'll just have a little fun here," he says with a sinister grin. "Besides, what kind of control would that be if I couldn't do anything? That wouldn't be any fun at all for me."

With his free hand, he tugs roughly on your hair, guiding your mouth to meet his. You moan into the kiss as he thrusts deeper, harder, grinding their hips together in a possessive rhythm. He knows you're aching for release, and the knowledge only serves to make him crueler.

The toy inside of you pulses wildly, sending waves of sensation crashing through your body as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. You arch your back, desperate for contact with something other than his hand or his finger, but Scara ignores your pleas, intent on driving you insane with need.

Finally, he pulls away, panting heavily as he gazes down at you. "There," he says roughly, pushing the toy deeper into your pussy with a rough thrust of his hips. "I think that'll hold you over until we get home." He reaches around, grabbing your breast roughly through your shirt and pinching the nipple hard before letting go. "Now," he continues, straightening up, "let's get out of here before anyone else notices us."

With a last wink, Scara offers you his hand to help you off the desk. Reluctantly, you take it, feeling more than a little worn out from their brief encounter. As soon as your feet touch the ground, he pulls

Scara sneers as you look down at the floor, blushing deeply despite yourself. "Oh come on," he says, shaking his head mockingly. "Don't act so ashamed." He takes your arm and pulls you close again, using his body to shield you from any prying eyes as they walk through the mostly empty hallways.

"Besides," he continues in a low voice, pressing himself against you sensually, "You know I'm only doing this because I love teasing you. It makes me feel so powerful when I have control over your body like this." He lets out a husky laugh, nuzzling his nose into your hair before adding softly, "And trust me, there will be plenty more of that tonight."

Scara pauses for a moment, tilting your head up to meet his gaze as they round a corner. His eyes glint with mischief and lust, and he can't help but lean in for another rough kiss. You sigh into it, feeling his tongue dance against yours before reluctantly pulling away again.

"Come on," he whispers hoarsely, tugging you along as he leads the way to his car. "I've got some things I want to do to you when we get home."

Scara leans back against the driver's side door, watching as you slowly follow him to his car. He takes in a deep breath through his nose and exhales slowly, savoring the scent of your arousal that hangs heavy in the air between you. It makes him harder than he ever thought possible.

As soon as you reach the passenger side door, he swings it open and roughly guides you inside, practically pushing you down into the seat before slamming the door shut behind him. The car's engine roars to life almost instantly, drowning out any protests or pleas for mercy that might have escaped your lips had they survived the door slam.

He turns to face you, one hand braced against the dashboard as he leans forward, his breath hot on your neck. "You know," he whispers, tracing lazy circles around your ear with his tongue, "I could just keep you like this forever." His other hand trails up your thigh, sliding beneath your skirt and hiking it up to reveal the smooth skin of your inner thigh. With a wicked grin, he runs his fingers over the lace of your panties before finally pushing them down, baring you completely to his hungry gaze.

"But," he continues with a knowing smile, "I'm feeling generous today." His fingers begin tracing circles around your entrance, teasingly close but never quite touching. You squirm in your seat, aching for contact, needing him inside of you right now.

With a final thrust, his middle finger plunges deep inside of you, causing you to cry out hoarsely as pleasure washes over you in waves. "There," he says, groaning softly as he begins to thrust his finger in and out in time

Scara's lips curl into a feral grin as he listens to your desperate pleas. He pulls his finger out of you and slides it between your lips, coating it in your essence before replacing it with another, longer one, using your wetness to help glide it deeper inside. With a satisfied groan, he begins thrusting harder, taking advantage of the privacy offered by the enclosed car to thoroughly explore your body.

His other hand grips your breast roughly through your shirt and bra, kneading and pinching until you're moaning in pleasure beneath him. He leans in close, nipping at your earlobe before whispering, "I bet you'll let me do whatever I want tonight." His fingers find your clit again, rubbing circles around it as he thrusts his finger deeper still, threatening to touch places inside of you that haven't been touched in far too long.

With every stroke, the air between them grows hotter and heavier, thick with desire and lust. You arch your back, needy whimpers falling from your lips as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. Scara knows just how to push your buttons, and he takes perverse pleasure in doing so.

Finally, when he can tell that you're right on the brink, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you aching and needy as he sits back in the seat, watching with hooded eyes as you writhe and twitch beneath him. "Now," he says softly, reaching down between your legs to spread your wetness over your clit, "are you going to be a good girl for me tonight?"

You nod frantically, panting harshly as his fingers circle around and tease your sensitive bud. His

Scara laughs at your admission as he trails his fingers up your inner thigh and back again, drawing lazy circles around the moisture pooling in your core. "Oh really?" he says mockingly, leaning down to nip playfully at your earlobe. "And what exactly do you think I'm going to make you do tonight?"

He pauses for a moment before continuing, fingers circling faster and tighter around your clit with each passing second. You cry out, arching your back off the seat as he finally brings you over the edge, your body shuddering in release beneath his touch. Your moans fill the car, muffled by the sounds of the engine and the wind outside.

When your cries have mostly subsided, Scara straightens up again, wiping a smug grin off his face as he meets your gaze head-on. "Well then," he says slowly, running a hand through his hair before turning back to the road ahead, "I guess we better get going."

The rest of the drive passes in tense silence, each of you lost in thought about what might happen when they finally reach Scara's house. You can feel him watching you out of the corner of your eye as he focuses on driving, his body tensing whenever you move even slightly. The anticipation is almost unbearable.

Scara glances over at you out of the corner of his eye, an expression of shock and arousal flitting across his features as he watches you turn towards him with a defiant grin. The bottle clatters to the floor as soon as he snaps back to focus on driving, but it's already had its desired effect; he can see your fingers sliding wetly in and out of your dripping entrance.

He takes a shaky breath, his hand tightening into a fist on the steering wheel as he struggles to maintain control over himself as he drives

Scara quirks an eyebrow at you as he approaches, the air between them heavy with anticipation and lust. "I thought you said I could make you do whatever I wanted tonight," he says

His lips curve into a predatory smile as he reaches down to pull you roughly out of the car, slamming your backside against his body with each stride. "Oh, we're going inside," he growls hotly into your ear before spinning you around to face him, pinning you against the driver's side door with one hand braced above your head.

His other hand glides up your stomach, teasing at the lace of your bra before hooking a finger beneath and tugging it aside, revealing your breast to his greedy gaze. He circles your nipple gently with his thumb, hardening it into a tight peak even as he leans in close enough to feel your breath against his cheek. "And what exactly did you have in mind?" His voice is soft and dangerous, the tone promising punishment for any disobedience.

You whimper beneath him, arching your back instinctively, offering yourself up for whatever he wants to do next. The heat of his body presses against yours, making it clear that there's nowhere else you can go unless you plan on climbing over him first. And even then...well, the thought sends a shiver down your spine at the idea of how much pleasure-pain he could inflict with such control.

Scara chuckles darkly, satisfied with your submissive tone. "Of course it is," he agrees, slipping his free hand down to cup your sex through your panties. He grips you roughly, fingers spreading wide as they press against your clit, rubbing hard in a punishing rhythm that has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with control. "I'm going to take you to my room," he says, his voice thick with desire as he uses his grip on your breast to force you into another deep moan, "and I'm going to show you just how good it feels when I have complete control over every part of you."

He pulls back abruptly, leaving your nipple achingly hard and exposed in the cool night air as he steps around to the other side of the car. With a final tug on your panties, he yanks them down your hips, baring you completely before shoving them the rest of the way off, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

"Come on, little girl," he growls, holding out his hand with an unapologetic glint in his eye. "Let's go see what mischief we can get into."

You hesitate for a moment before finally reaching out and taking his hand, feeling the heat of it sear through your skin as he pulls you towards him. It isn't until you're standing just inches from his body that you remember how much bigger and stronger he is; how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to. But tonight, he seems content to let you lean on him... for now.

Scara leads you down the hallway to his room, the sound of your hurried breaths and thudding heartbeat filling the otherwise quiet space. The closer they get to his door, the more tense he grows; anticipation coursing through him like an electric current. His grip on your hand tightens as he pulls you along behind him, practically dragging you across the threshold when they finally reach it.

The room is dark except for a single lamp on the bedside table, casting ominous shadows over the furniture and walls. It's clear that this isn't Scara's usual playroom; it feels more like an extension of his own personality - dominating and intense. He lets go of your hand, allowing you to stumble forward into the room before closing the door behind him with a sharp click.

"Now," he says softly, approaching you from the side and running his hands slowly up your arms, "I want you to take off everything else." His voice is low and commanding; unmistakable in its intent. You nod obediently, shaking with desire as you reach for the hem of your sweater and begin to pull it over your head.

As soon as it's discarded on the floor, Scara pins you against the wall, his body flush against yours from chest to thigh. His hands roam freely over your exposed skin, exploring every inch of flesh until he finds what he's looking for: a pair of lacy black underwear that perfectly contrast with your pale skin. "These," he growls into your ear as his fingers slide beneath the elastic waistband and begin to push them down your hips, revealing your nakedness to him at last.

Your wet folds glisten in the dim light, a testament to

Scara growls low in his throat as you tug at his shirt, the feel of your soft fingers brushing against his skin causing a thrill to race down his spine. His grip on your hips tightens briefly before he forces himself to release them, stepping back just enough to allow him to pull his shirt over his head with ease.

With hungry eyes fixed on yours, Scara walks slowly around you, taking in every inch of your body as if it were a work of art. He cups your breasts in his hands, gently squeezing before thumbs and fingers slide over your sensitive nipples, making them hard and aching for attention. "Tell me," he whispers into your ear as he slides one hand down between your legs, finding you wet and ready for him, "how do you like being so exposed like this?" His other hand continues to roam freely over your body, teasing and taunting with every touch until it finds the button on his jeans and

"That's it," he whispers against your ear as you feel his hot breath tickle your skin. His hand squeezes around your waist, pulling you closer so that their bodies are flush from chest to thigh once more. "You like feeling me?" he asks, arching an eyebrow, a husky laugh rumbling low in his throat as he finally gives into the urge to touch you.

His hand slides lower between your legs, roughly parting your folds before pressing two fingers deep inside of you. You cry out, your body tensing at the feel of his fingers thrusting roughly against that spot inside of you that's been aching for release since the moment he pulled away earlier. His free hand cups your breast again, tweaking your nipple roughly as he pumps his fingers in and out of your tight channel with rough precision.

"How does it feel?" he growls against your neck, his hips thrusting forward slightly so that his erection presses against the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath. "Do you want more?" He pulls back suddenly, releasing your breast as he reaches down to tug at the waistband of your underwear. With a sharp yank, they're discarded on the floor, leaving you completely exposed and helpless in his hands.

"Well?" he demands, pushing his erection harder against you, grinding their hips together as he waits for your answer. "Do you want it?"

Scara laughs darkly at your words, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh really?" he says, his voice heavy with amusement and arousal as he leans in close enough to feel your breath against his skin. He slides his hands underneath you, hooking them around your hips and lifting, pulling you up onto the tips of your toes before pushing forward, driving himself deep inside of you in one swift motion.

"Well," he continues roughly as he begins to thrust into you with hard, unyielding strokes that make it impossible for you not to arch your back and cry out each time he hits that spot deep within you, "I'm going to enjoy this power while I have it." He holds one of your hands above your head, fingers curled around the opposite wrist in a painful grip as he pins you to the wall with his body.

"And," he adds viciously, grinding against you even harder and faster now, "I'm not going to let anyone else have a turn." With each word, he thrusts deeper still, claiming your body entirely for himself as his hips rock forward in unrelenting rhythm. He doesn't give you the chance to catch your breath or regain control; every touch is possessive and demanding, leaving no doubt that this night belongs solely to him.

"You," he growls into your ear, "are mine." And with that, he loses himself in the pleasure of having you underneath him, using your body for his own twisted enjoyment until finally, with a hoarse cry and a powerful thrust deep inside of you, he comes apart as well.

For a moment, there's silence as their bodies convulse together; then Scara releases your hand and gently slides it down to

The feel of your tight, hot body wrapped around him is almost too much for Scara to handle as he thrusts deeper and harder into you. Your moans and gasps are like music in his ears, driving him further into a frenzy that he can't control. His fingers dig into your ass, holding on for dear life as he feels the familiar tightness building up deep inside of him. He can't hold back any longer; with a primal roar, he pushes as far into you as he possibly can and unleashes his seed deep within your warmth.

His body shudders violently as wave after wave of pleasure washes over him, leaving him gasping for air and slick with sweat. For several long moments, neither one of you moves; it's as if the world around them has come to a standstill. It's only when your soft moans start to stir him from his post-orgasmic haze that he realizes you're still impaled on his cock.

With a groan, he slowly pulls out of you, not wanting to let go quite yet. "Oh fuck," he whispers hoarsely, staring down at your flushed face and heaving chest. The sight of you like this only serves to ignite the fire burning inside him once more. "You're unbelievable." He pushes his hand roughly through his hair as he tries to regain his composure.

"Come here," he rasps, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close against his sweat-slick skin. He nuzzles at your neck, nipping gently with his teeth before kissing you softly on the lips. "Let's get some rest." His other hand cups your ass, holding you possessively to him as he gu

Scaratakes you by the hand and leads you over to the bed, practically throwing you onto it before climbing in after you. He curls his body around yours, spooning you tightly as he presses his hard length against your ass. With a satisfied groan, he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back even closer so that their hips are aligned and every thrust of his pelvis sends ripples of pleasure through both of you. His free hand wanders up your side, cupping your breast before tweaking your nipple roughly between his fingers.

"Such a dirty little thing," he whispers into your ear, kissing the soft skin behind it before sucking lightly on the lobe. "I think I'm going to enjoy keeping you like this." He thrusts deeper into you, grinding against your ass as his erection throbs in time with his heartbeat. His touch is rough and possessive, leaving no question that he fully intends to claim you for the rest of the night.

As you both grow more caught up in the heat of passion, his hips begin to move faster against yours, each thrust pushing deeper into your body until you can feel him throbbing against your entrance once again. Your nails dig into his back as you arch your neck and moan out his name, the pleasure coursing through you threatening to overwhelm you completely. It's clear that he isn't going to let up anytime soon; if anything, he seems intent on pushing you further and further over the edge until you're screaming for him.

His other hand cups your mound, finding your clit with ease as he rubs roughly against it in perfect sync with his hips. You come apart under his touch, your body shuddering violently as you cry out

Scaratilts his head back to look down at you as he thrusts harder into your ass, feeling the wet heat of your pussy against the sensitive skin of his cock. "Oh really?" He says, sounding amused. "And why do you think that is? That I'm just going to let you go after tonight?" His free hand comes up to cup your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze as he continues thrusting in and out of you at a brutal pace. "You belong to me now."

His hips push forward roughly, sending him even deeper inside of you with each powerful stroke. He can feel the tension building up within him again, that familiar tightness spreading through his body like wildfire as he nears his release. And with each thrust into your ass, it grows harder and harder to resist the urge to let go and let himself be consumed by pleasure once more.

"Say it," he breathes roughly against your lips. "Tell me you belong to me." His other hand finds your throat, gently squeezing as if testing how far he can push before you cry out for mercy. But even when you do, there's a dark part of him that craves the sound of your pain, the way it sends shivers down his spine.

"Say it," he whispers again, thrusting harder as his cock twitches against the sensitive spot inside you, begging to be set free once more. His touch is rough and possessive; each thrust feels like a claim, marking you as his in a way that no amount of verbal assurances ever could. And with every passing second, it's becoming clearer and clearer that this night is only the beginning.

Scarasnorts dismissively at your insistence that the bet was only for today. "We'll see about that," he growls, slamming his hips into you so hard that it's a miracle either of you can keep from crying out. His fingers dig painfully into your skin, leaving bruises as evidence of his dominance and possession.

With each brutal thrust, he pushes himself deeper inside of you, determined to mark every inch of your body with the proof that he owns you. Heat radiates from his core, searing through your flesh as their hips align perfectly and his release is inevitable. His cock twitches violently against your insides, threatening to explode at any moment now, but he isn't done yet.

He lifts you up onto one elbow so that he can look into your eyes, forcing you to meet his gaze as he drives himself deeper still. His other hand comes up to cup your breast roughly, squeezing and pinching until you arch your back off the mattress in an attempt to escape the painful sensation.

"You are mine," he growls out through gritted teeth as his orgasm crashes over him, sending spurt after spurt of hot cum deep inside of you. His hips buck violently against yours, grinding himself against your most sensitive spot until pleasure courses through every fiber of your being and leaves you trembling in its wake. With a satisfied moan, he releases you and collapses back onto the bed, spent but far from sated.

It's only then that he realizes what you said earlier about the sun rising. His eyes narrow dangerously as he studies your face in the dim light of the moonlight streaming through the window. "We'll see about that," he

Scararolls his eyes and chuckles darkly at your weak attempt to appease him. "Oh really?" he says mockingly. "And what about tomorrow morning, hm? When I wake up and find you gone?" He props himself up on one elbow so that he's looming over you, his face only inches away from yours. "What then, little girl?"

Scarais amazed at your audacity as you grip his shoulders defiantly. A growl rumbles deep in his throat, and he can feel the tension building up within him once more. "You're making a mistake," he whispers through clenched teeth. His hips buck again, grinding against yours despite the fact that they've both already come. "But we'll see."

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear before whispering, "Tomorrow morning, I want you to meet me at the edge of the school grounds by noon." His voice is softer now, but there's an underlying threat that sends a shiver down your spine. "Don't be late," he adds, nipping playfully at your earlobe before pulling back and studying your face once more.

As you lay there, panting and slick with sweat from their recent exertions, Scara can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction wash over him. He doesn't know what it is about this girl that makes her so irresistible, but he knows for sure that he isn't going to let her go without a fight. Tomorrow morning, she will be his again, and they can continue this little game until the end of the day. Or until she finally decides to give up and surrender completely to him. Only time will tell.

The morning sun peeks through the curtains, casting a warm, golden light across the bed as it slowly inches its way higher in the sky. Scara stirs beneath you, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. You can feel him tensing slightly, growing more alert even in his sleep, sensing that something isn't quite right.

With a silent prayer of thanks for whatever cosmic force had allowed you to slip away unnoticed last night, you carefully ease yourself out from under his arm and roll off the bed before he has a chance to wake up. In the dim light filtering through the windows, you quickly gather your clothes and dress as silently as possible.

As quietly as you can manage, you creep across the room and slip out of the house, relieved when you don't hear any signs that Scara has awakened yet. With a deep breath of fresh air, you head towards school at a brisk walk, trying to put some distance between yourself and your temporary captor as quickly as possible.

The sun beats down on your shoulders as you make your way through the familiar streets, forcing yourself not to look back in case Scara somehow spots you from his bedroom window. You go home and quickly shower and change before attending your classes

Scara glances around the classroom as he takes his seat, his eyes narrowing when they land on you sitting near the back. He can't help but feel a pang of annoyance that you managed to slip away from him so easily this morning, especially since it's their last class together. But for now, he has other things to focus on besides chasing after you.

As the teacher drones on about some unimportant subject, Scara stares out the window, his mind elsewhere as he plans how he can reassert his dominance over you tomorrow. The day passes agonizingly slow, but eventually the final bell rings and class is dismissed. With a smirk, he stands up from his desk and saunters over to where you're gathering your things.

"Well, well," he drawls as he leans against your locker beside you, "look who decided to show up for class today." His tone is playful yet menacing at the same time, a reminder that despite what happened last night, his hold on you hasn't completely vanished.

You glance up at him out of the corner of your eye, wishing more than anything that you could simply walk away and forget about this whole mess. But Scara has other ideas. "Come on," he says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, "let's go somewhere we can talk." He places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly as if to emphasize his command.

Scaralaughs darkly at your attempt to assert your independence and pulls you closer by the shoulder, his grip tightening almost painfully as he leans in so that his lips brush against your ear. "Oh no, little one," he whispers mockingly, "I don't think you understand. The bet may be over, but our game has only just begun." He pushes you roughly away and strides off down the hall, not even bothering to look back to see if you're following.

You debate for a moment what to do; part of you wants nothing more than to run far, far away from this psychotic boy who seems determined to have some sort of power over you. But another part wonders just how bad it could possibly be to go along with him... at least until the end of the day. With a sigh, you reluctantly follow after him, your heart racing and your stomach churning with fear and anticipation.

As he leads you out of the school building and into the parking lot, you can't help but notice how confident he is, how his shoulders seem to straighten and his posture seems to improve whenever he's near you. It's almost as if just having you within reach makes him feel invincible. You shiver involuntarily in response, grateful for the spring chill that bites at your skin despite the warmth of the sun overhead.

He pauses beside his car, one hand on the door handle, and glances back over his shoulder at you. "You know," he says conversationally, "I could just kidnap you now and no one would ever find out." His smile is sharp and predatory, sending a shiver down your spine. "It's not too late to change your mind."

The muscle in Scara's jaw twitches as he narrows his eyes at you, and you can tell by the tightness of his fists that he's struggling to keep himself from doing something rash. But for now, he simply tilts his head slightly to the side, studying you with an unreadable expression. "Oh?" he drawls eventually, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And who do you think would believe such a stupid little lie?"

He takes a step closer, looming over you once more, and it's all you can do not to cower away from him. His breath fans across your cheek as he leans down, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sends shivers through every inch of your body. "You belong to me," he reminds you harshly, pressing his advantage even though it makes your stomach knot with fear.

But then, almost as quickly as the tension between you spiked, it dissipates once more. Scara straightens, taking a step back and running his hands through his hair in frustration.

Scarabarks out a harsh laugh at your words. "Desperate? Is that what you think this is?" He takes another step back, regaining some of his composure. His eyes are cold as they meet yours; there's a dangerous glint in their depths that sends a shiver down your spine. "I could have anyone I want," he says slowly, emphasizing each word. "You might be fun to play with for now, but you're nothing special."

Scarahisses at your words and takes another step back, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he struggles to keep himself in check. "You little bitch!" he spits out venomously, surprised by the force of his anger. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, forcing his body to relax. "Fine," he says through gritted teeth, voice lower now but just as menacing. "We'll see who's desperate come tomorrow." With one final glance in your direction, he turns on his heel and storms off toward his car, sliding into the driver's seat with more force than necessary. The engine roars to life before you can blink, tires squealing as he peels out of the parking lot.

As you arrive at school the next day, dressed in a tighter, more revealing outfit, Scara's eyes widen with interest. He watches your every move as you make your way through the hallways, his gaze trailing over the curves of your body that are on full display today. It seems that his plan to make you beg might not have worked as well as he'd hoped; if anything, it has only made you more irresistible.

Your eyes meet across the room and for a moment, they lock together in a silent battle of wills. You can feel Scara's anger from yesterday simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment now. And yet, despite himself, he can't help but be drawn toward you like a moth to a flame. The tension between you is palpable; every head in class turns to watch as this odd game of cat and mouse continues to play out across the room.

Finally, with a growl that echoes through your mind even after he's turned away from you, Scara storms out of the classroom, leaving you standing there feeling smug for the brief moment before fear once again takes hold. Heading toward your locker, you try to focus on finishing out the day without any more run-ins with him. But deep down, you know that avoiding him completely is impossible; sooner or later, their paths will cross again...and when they do, the game will continue.

As you walk up to the captain of the football team and begin flirting with him right in front of Scara's face, he can feel his anger rising within him once more. His jaw tightens, and he takes a slow, steadying breath as he watches your every move. You look amazing today; dressed in that skintight outfit that shows off your curves so perfectly. It's almost painful for Scara to see you with someone else, even if it's only for the sake of torturing him a little bit more.

The captain seems to enjoy your attention, laughing at something you say before leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he asks you about a party later that night. You flash him a dazzling smile and nod eagerly, promising that you'll be there. Scara feels like his chest is about to explode; jealousy and anger war within him, threatening to consume every last ounce of his self-control.

As you turn back to the captain, your gaze accidentally meets Scara's for a fraction of a second before darting away again. His fists clench even tighter at his sides as he tries desperately not to do or say anything that would ruin this little game for him. But it's becoming increasingly difficult; with each passing moment, it feels like the air around you is getting thicker and hotter, charged with an electricity that threatens to spark at any moment.

Finally, the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch period. With a victorious grin on his face, the captain saunters away, no doubt looking forward to seeing you later tonight. As you turn back toward your locker, Scara's eyes bore into yours once more; there's a challenge in

Scara's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as you lean in and plant a kiss on the captain's cheek before sauntering away with an exaggerated sultriness that makes every guy in the room hard just from watching you move. He feels his control slipping, the primal urges within him demanding action. His fists clench even tighter and he takes a step toward you, intending to grab your arm and drag you away so they can finish their little game in private. But then, something stops him.

There's a part of him that's enjoying the show, the jealousy and anger mixing with lust as he watches you put on this performance for all to see. And as much as it hurts to admit it, there's also a tiny, vulnerable part of him that relishes the attention from other guys. It's intoxicating, the power he has over you now, and he doesn't want to give it up so easily. Not yet.

With a growl that sounds more animalistic than human, Scara forces himself to take a step back, his hands balling into fists at his sides once again as he struggles to control the storm raging within him. His gaze never leaves yours as you disappear down the hallway, the faint sound of your laughter drifting back to him on the wind. You belong to him, and sooner or later, you'll come crawling back to his side, begging for forgiveness. He can feel it in his bones.

Until then, he'll just have to watch from afar and wait for his chance to reclaim what is rightfully his. And when that time comes, there will be hell to pay.

The moment you bend over in front of him, Scara feels his entire body tense up in response. Your ass is perfectly rounded and firm, barely contained by the tight fabric of your pants. He clenches his fists at his sides, forcing himself not to reach out and grope you right then and there. It's taking every last ounce of self-control he has not to lose it completely.

As you take your seat next to him, you can feel the heat from his body radiating toward you, making the skin on the side of your face burn. He glances down at your hands, wondering if perhaps they're shaking a little bit from how much this is affecting you. There's no way you could possibly be unaware of how turned on he is right now; his arousal practically pours out of him in waves.

"I'm fine," Scara manages to say through gritted teeth, his voice sounding a little bit hoarse. It feels so good when you touch him like this; your hand is hot and soft against his skin, sending shards of pleasure coursing through his body. He wants nothing more than to pull you onto his lap and take what he wants right now, but he knows that would only give in to the games you seem so intent on playing with him.

The classroom feels incredibly stuffy all of a sudden; sweat beads at Scara's brow as he tries desperately not to lose control. Your touch is driving him wild, making it difficult for him to concentrate on anything but the sensation of your hand moving up and down his leg, stopping only when it brushes against his growing erection beneath his pants. His hips buck forward instinctively, seeking more contact with your hand.

He glances over at you out of the corner of his eye, watching as your lips curl into a smug little smile. There's a spark in your eyes that tells him you know exactly what effect you're having on him. And it only makes him want you more.

The feel of your hand on his leg fades, leaving Scara momentarily bereft of that exquisite sensation. He watches you as you lean forward onto the desk, arching your back and thrusting out your chest, making your breasts look even larger than they did in your tight outfit earlier. His breath catches in his throat at the sight; it's been so long since he's seen you without a shirt that every detail stands out with painful clarity. The tiny little pebbles of your nipples, now hard and erect beneath the fabric of your bra... He can feel the heat radiating off of them, as if they were branded onto his skin.

Despite himself, he reaches out a hand to touch one, trailing his fingertips lightly over the peak before cupping your breast in his palm. Your flesh is soft and warm beneath his fingers, and with each shallow breath you take, it rises against his touch, begging for more. His other hand grips the desk tightly to keep from pulling you closer, from devouring every inch of you right here in class. He looks up at you through hooded lids, feeling a primal possessiveness swell inside him as he stares into your eyes, daring you to pull away.

A tiny, satisfied smile curves his lips as he realizes that he's still in control of this game...for now.

As your palm meets his flesh with an audible slap, Scara's grip on the desk tightens reflexively but doesn't loosen. His eyes narrow slightly and a muscle in his jaw twitches as he studies you for any sign of fear or submission. There's none to be found; instead, your smile grows even more smug as it becomes abundantly clear that this little game isn't going the way you thought it would.

He tries to keep himself from reacting too strongly, knowing full well that if he loses his temper now, it'll only make things worse for him in the end. But it's becoming increasingly difficult; every fiber of his being is yearning to dominate and possess you, to bend you to his will like putty in his hands.

"Is something wrong, Scara?" you taunt, leaning even closer so that your breath tickles across his ear. "Are you losing control?" The question hangs in the air between you, the teasing note in your voice making it clear that you're enjoying this power dynamic more than anything else.

His eyes dart away from yours for a moment, taking in the way your breasts rise and fall with each breath as they press against the fabric of your shirt. The sight sends a quiver of desire coursing through him, threatening to overcome his last shreds of self-control. With an effort that costs him dearly, he forces himself to focus on your face once more, determined not to let you see just how much this is getting to him.

"Don't play games with me," he rasps, his voice low and rough. "You know what I can do if you push me too far." He lets go of your breast reluctantly, wondering whether retreating would be the smartest

Scara's eyes widen at your threat, but there's a challenge in them as well. He considers this for a moment before letting out a humorless laugh that sounds more like a growl. "Is that so?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper now. The look he gives you is filled with barely contained anger and desire; it's clear that he doesn't believe your bluff for a second.

He leans in closer, their faces mere inches apart, and trails the tip of his nose down the bridge of yours before speaking again. "You don't know what you're dealing with here," he whispers, his hot breath tickling over your skin. His gaze flickers to your lips for a moment before returning to meet your eyes again.

There's an unspoken promise in that look, a threat of punishment should you dare cross him further. But there's also something else there, something more dangerous and alluring: the promise of pleasure beyond measure if you were to ever surrender to him completely. It's a heady mixture that leaves your heart racing and your thoughts spinning out of control as you try to decide what to do next.

Do you push him further, continue playing this deadly game of cat and mouse? Or do you back down, admit defeat, and beg for his forgiveness? The choice is yours...but know this: there will be consequences either way.

Scara's eyes narrow as you lean in close to whisper in his ear, your words carrying an unmistakable threat beneath the surface. He remains seated, watching you intently as you get up to speak with the football captain again. There's a spark of something in your eyes that he hasn't seen before; defiance, maybe even confidence? It irritates him, makes him want to grab you and throw you back on his lap where you belong. But for now, he remains still, waiting for the perfect moment to make his move.

As the captain listens intently to whatever it is you're saying, a slow burn begins to build deep in Scara's gut. You're enjoying this too much; teasing him, playing with his emotions like they're nothing more than toys. He can feel his temper starting to fray at the edges, and he knows that if you push him much further, he won't be able to control himself anymore.

The longer the conversation goes on between you, the harder it gets for Scara to focus on anything besides how good it would feel to have your lips wrapped around his cock instead of the captain's ear. His fingers twitch on the desk, aching to reach out and grab you, to pull you close enough so he can taste you again. It's becoming increasingly clear that maintaining any semblance of control over this situation is going to be nearly impossible for much longer; soon enough, he'll have to choose between continuing to play these games with you or simply taking what he wants by force. And deep down, he knows which option would bring him the most satisfaction.

The sound of laughter from across the room draws his attention back momentarily, and when he looks up, he realizes that class is almost over. Your conversation with the captain winds

Scara glares at you as you sit down beside him again, making sure to brush against his arm in the process. You're enjoying this far too much; relishing the power you have over him and using it like a weapon. He feels his control slipping further away with every moment that passes, every taunt you throw his way.

As you suggest making out after school to the football captain, Scara feels a primal surge of possessiveness course through him. You're his; he shouldn't have to share you with anyone else, let alone someone like the captain who would likely only see you as another notch on their bedpost. His fist clenches into a tight ball at his side, nails digging painfully into the flesh of his palm.

But even as these thoughts race through his mind, he knows that he can't let himself lose control entirely. Not yet. There are still games to be played, dominance to be asserted. So instead of lashing out or trying to grab you then and there, Scara takes a deep breath and forces himself to exhale slowly through his nose. His gaze never leaves yours as he tries to convey with a single look just how pissed off and territorial he is right now.

"We'll see," you reply coyly, turning back toward the captain with a little giggle. It's like a knife being twisted in Scara's gut; each syllable of that laughter only serves to fuel his anger further. He wants nothing more than to pull you close and kiss you senseless right here, in front of everyone. But for now, he has to bide his time. He wipes a nonexistent bead of sweat from his forehead as class comes to an end, unable to mask the tightness in his chest or the

Scara's jaw tenses as he watches you follow the football captain out of the classroom, his hand resting possessively on your ass. It's like a slap in the face; not only is he being openly ignored and disrespected, but now you're flaunting it right in front of him. His fingers curl into fists at his sides as anger and jealousy boil up inside him.

He can't just let this go on any longer. He knows that he needs to regain control of the situation, to assert his dominance once more. The only question is, how? Should he confront you immediately, perhaps even resorting to violence in order to make his point clear? Or should he bide his time, wait for another opportunity to strike when you least expect it?

As he stands there, lost in thought, the rest of the students file out of class around him. He doesn't hear them or see their expressions; all he can focus on is how badly he wants you back under his control. Finally, with a deep breath and a grimace, Scara forces himself to follow after you, determined to fix this mess once and for all.

When he catches up to the two of you outside the classroom, the captain looking rather pleased with himself in your presence, Scara decides that subtlety won't be an option today. With a cold glare fixed firmly on both of your faces, he steps forward and grabs you roughly by the arm, yanking you away from the football captain. "That's it," he growls through gritted teeth. "You're coming with me."

Scara's fingers dig deeper into your arm as he glares daggers at you and the football captain, his anger and jealousy making it impossible for him to think straight. The feeling of you touching another man in such an intimate way sets his teeth on edge; it's a primal reaction, one that makes it difficult for him to remember that this is all just part of your game. "You belong to me," he snarls through clenched teeth, "and I won't let you disrespect me like this."

His gaze shifts back and forth between the two of you, unsure of what exactly he should do next. A part of him wants nothing more than to push the captain aside and take you right here, showing both of you who's really in charge. But another part knows that losing his temper won't solve anything; it will only make things worse between the three of you.

With a final growl of frustration, he releases his grip on your arm and steps back, hands once again balling into fists at his sides. His chest heaves with each labored breath as he tries to regain control over himself and the situation. "Fine," he says through gritted teeth, "but if you keep this up, there will be consequences."

The words hang in the air between you, their meaning unmistakable. Scara means what he's saying; he isn't afraid to use violence if it comes down to that. But at the same time, there's a part of him that hopes he won't have to resort to such extreme measures. Maybe with time and patience, he can win you back without any more fights or confrontations.

For now, however, he content himself with watching as the two of you continue your little game of cat and mouse, aware

His fists clench tighter at his sides as he watches you lean in and kiss the football captain. The sight fills him with a burning rage unlike anything he's ever experienced before; it feels like his entire body is on fire, every nerve ending alive with anger and jealousy. He wants nothing more than to grab you by the hair and drag you away from that other man, to take you back where you belong - in his bed, beneath him.

But he knows better than to lose control again so soon; it would only make things worse for all of them. Instead, he forces himself to turn away, walking stiffly down the hall towards his next class. His jaw tightens as he clenches his teeth together, trying desperately not to scream or throw anything in frustration. He can feel your words digging into him like a million tiny knives; they sting and burn with every breath he takes.

Inside, Scara is seething. Part of him wants to confront you again, to make it clear once and for all that you belong only to him. But another part knows that such an approach would be futile; it would only give you the satisfaction of knowing you've won this round. No, there must be another way... some other strategy he can employ in order to get you back where you belong: by his side, under his control.

He spends the rest of the day consumed with thoughts of vengeance and reclaiming what is rightfully his. As each class passes by without any sign of letting up from your little campaign against him, a plan begins to form in the back of his mind. It's risky, dangerous even... but it just might work. And if it does? If he can get you back where you belong... well then, everything will be different. The balance of power between them

Scara's fists clench even tighter at his sides as he watches you grab the football captain's ass and pull him closer to you, making it abundantly clear that your affections now lie elsewhere. A growl rises up from deep within his chest; it's primal and raw, a warning to both of you that he isn't going to stand for this much longer. His jaw tenses, his eyes narrowed in anger as he sees the look of triumph on your face, knows that you're enjoying this little game far too much.

He pushes past the other students milling around in the hallway, intent on getting back to you and putting an end to this charade. His pace quickens as he approaches, anger now boiling over and clouding his thoughts. He's going to make you pay for this; there's no doubt in his mind. As he finally reaches you, he grabs your arm roughly and yanks you away from the captain, ignoring the pained cry that escapes from the other man's lips.

"Enough," he growls through gritted teeth, his face mere inches from yours now. His breath fans across your cheek, sending shivers down your spine despite yourself. "You think you can just play with people like they're toys? Like you don't mean anything?" He shakes his head slowly, disgust clear in his expression.

Scara's eyes widen as he feels your hot breath against his skin and hears the words you whisper against the football captain's lips. He releases your arm abruptly, taking a step back as if burned. The anger in his gaze gives way to something else entirely; disbelief, maybe even hurt. You're taunting him now, pushing him farther than he ever thought possible, and it's only making things worse for everyone involved.

He clenches his fists again, unsure of what to do next. Part of him wants to storm off, to ignore you and hope that this will all blow over eventually. But another part can't bring itself to walk away from the confrontation; not yet. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart and clear his head.

"Fine," he says through gritted teeth, barely managing to keep his voice even. "If that's how you want it, then fine." His eyes flicker down to where your hand rests on the captain's ass before snapping back up to meet yours again. He knows he can't let this go; not without risking everything he has with you. But he also knows that there's a line between playing games and crossing boundaries, and he doesn't want to be the one who crosses it first.

For now, he remains silent as he watches you continue your little game, waiting for an opening where he can reassert himself without causing further damage to his already tenuous hold on your affections. It's a dangerous dance they're all engaged in now; one misstep could cost them everything.

scaras eyes widen at your words

The words you've spoken send a shiver down Scara's spine; they're confirmation of everything he's been suspecting, but also a revelation that leaves him reeling. He watches as you walk away from the football captain and head towards your car, his mind racing with a dozen different emotions all at once: relief, anger, confusion...and something else entirely. Something hotter, more possessive.

As you climb into your car and drive off, leaving him standing there alone in the school parking lot, Scara feels a new determination welling up inside of him. Whatever it is that happened between the two of you before...it won't happen again. He refuses to let you slip away from him like this. And even if it means risking everything they have together, he will find a way to keep you safe, to make sure that whatever horrors you endured in the past don't repeat themselves.

For now though, there is only one thing on his mind: tracking down your address so he can pay you a visit tonight. He needs to speak with you again; needs to know what happened, why you felt the need to protect him all those months ago. And once he has that knowledge, once he understands...then perhaps they can find a way forward together, one where you aren't constantly on edge and looking over your shoulder for danger lurking around every corner.

Scara takes out his phone, searching through his contacts until he finds yours. With a quick tap of his thumb, he initiates the call, waiting impatiently for it to connect as he paces back and forth in front of his car. This time, when you answer, things will be different. There won't be any more games; no more dancing around the truth. Whatever happens next between them, good or bad

Scara snarls into the phone as he listens to your words. He's torn between wanting to punch something and wanting nothing more than to be close enough to feel your warm breath against his skin again. The thought of you thinking that you own him, that everything between them is some sort of twisted game...it enrages him beyond reason.

"You're wrong," he growls through gritted teeth. "I don't belong to anyone, least of all someone like you." His voice drops lower, becoming almost dangerously soft as he adds, "And if you ever think about going back there again...if you even dare to mention that man's name in front of me..." He trails off, barely able to contain the fury bubbling up inside him.

A part of him knows that maybe he should just end the call right now, drive over to your house and confront you in person. But another part recognizes the need for distance, for calmness if they're ever going to sort this mess out. He takes a deep breath, willing himself to relax his grip on the phone before continuing.

"I want answers," he says forcefully, "and I won't stop until I get them." There's steel in his voice now; determination that brooks no argument or denial. "If that means coming to your house tonight, then so be it. But you better be prepared for what comes after."

Scara clenches his fist around the phone until his knuckles turn white, struggling to contain the anger and frustration that boil up inside him at your taunting words. He wants nothing more than to be with you right now, to put an end to this game once and for all by any means necessary. But he knows that rushing in recklessly would only make things worse; it would play right into your hands.

Instead, he forces himself to take a step back, to try and regain some semblance of control over his emotions. It's not easy; every fiber of his being is screaming at him to lash out, to make you pay for all the pain and confusion you've caused him over the past few months. But he knows that there must be another way, some other strategy that can bring you back into his life without further escalating this mess any further.

"You're wrong," he manages finally, his voice little more than a rough rasp. "I don't need you, and I damn sure don't belong to anyone." He pauses for a moment, taking another deep breath as he tries to calm the roiling storm within himself before continuing. "But if you really want this...if you think you can handle me coming over there tonight..." His voice trails off into nothingness, leaving the unspoken threat hanging heavily in the air between them.

There's a moment of silence as he waits for your reply, bracing himself against whatever retort or challenge might come next. But when it finally comes, it takes him completely by surprise.

The sound of your voice sends a shiver down Scara's spine; it's low and sensual, filled with an authority that he can't help but respond to on a primal level. His body tenses as he tries to control the urge to rush over there right now, to finally have you back under his command where you belong. But even as his mind tells him this is a bad idea, another part of him is beginning to wonder if maybe there's some truth to what you're saying...if perhaps your words hold more weight than he'd like to admit.

With a sigh, he steps back from the phone, trying to clear his head and regain some control over his emotions. This isn't how he wanted things to go; not tonight, at least. He needed time to think, to prepare himself for whatever might happen when he finally confronts you face-to-face. But with every word that flows from your lips, it becomes increasingly difficult to maintain that distance, that sense of control.

He glances at the clock on his phone, wondering if it's too soon or if maybe waiting a bit longer would be wiser. Part of him wants nothing more than to just go over there now and have it all out in the open; another part is terrified of what might happen once they cross that threshold into your territory. It's a delicate balancing act, one that he isn't sure he can maintain for much longer.

Deciding that a few more minutes won't make much difference either way, Scara reaches out to tap idly at his phone screen, lost in thought as he waits for time to pass. The image of your face and your body fills his mind's eye, dancing before him like some sort of tantalizing illusion designed specifically to drive him mad with desire. And

Scara grinds his teeth together in frustration as he listens to the dial tone emanating from his phone. Why does she have to be so damn infuriating? One moment she's taunting him, making it clear that she owns him and everything between them is a game...and then the next moment she throws out some hint of desire or longing that leaves him reeling, unsure of what he should do next.

He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to think clearly despite the turmoil churning inside of him. His first instinct is to go over there now, to confront her and demand answers...but would that really be wise? Wouldn't it be better if he waited until he could approach the situation with a clear head, without giving into the anger and desire that currently rule his every thought?

Deciding that some time apart might do them both good, Scara decides to busy himself with other things for the rest of the night. He'll go over to your place after everything has cooled down, when he can approach the situation from a more rational perspective. Perhaps then, he'll finally get the answers he seeks...and find a way back into your heart where he belongs.

The message appears on his phone screen, its words searing into his very soul like a branding iron. He knows you're right; he can feel the evidence of your power over him pressed against his underwear with every step he takes. It infuriates him and arouses him in equal measure, driving him half-mad with need for you that borders on obsession.

His thumb hovers over the keypad for several long moments before finally striking out a reply: "I'm not afraid to take what I want." The words are barely contained rage; they vibrate through his entire body as he presses send and puts his phone back into his pocket. He knows you can't see it, but his eyes flash with defiance all the same. Tonight is going to be a battle for dominance, and there will only be one victor.

Scara grabs his car keys from the table by the door and heads outside, eager to put some distance between himself and his raging emotions before he arrives at your house. He climbs into his car and takes several deep breaths, trying to calm the storm that's been brewing inside him since their confrontation in the hallway. But no matter how hard he tries, it only seems to grow stronger with each passing moment.

As he pulls out of the driveway and begins the short journey across town, his mind replays every interaction they've shared over the past few months, searching for some clue as to why things have gone so horribly wrong between them. The memories only serve to inflame his passions further; each touch, each kiss comes back to him like a blow to the chest, reminding him of all that he's lost and all that he wants to regain tonight.

It isn't long before Scara finds himself parked across the street

scara looks at your windows making eye contact from across the street. you send another text, "either come inside or im calling the cops"

When the door swings open, you're standing there in nothing but a silk robe that barely manages to hide your curves. The sight of you sends shockwaves through his body; he wants nothing more than to tear the fabric from your body and consume every inch of you right then and there. But he forces himself to remain calm, if only for the moment.

"You called," Scara says, his voice steady even as his heart races in his chest. "I assume that means you're ready to talk." He takes a step forward, his gaze locked on yours, searching for any sign of the tenderness and vulnerability he remembers from before.

You merely arch an eyebrow at him in reply, silently daring him to cross the threshold into your home. The challenge is unmistakable, and Scara finds himself unable to resist it; with a growl of frustration that mirrors his own desire and need for control, he steps over the line you've drawn so clearly between them.

"Don't think this means I've given up," he warns, following you deeper into your house. "I want answers, and I won't stop until I get them." His voice hardens at the end of his sentence, betraying the fear and desperation that lurk just beneath the surface.

You close the distance between you in two long strides, stopping mere inches from Scara's body. "And what if I don't want to give them to you?" You challenge, your voice little more than a husky whisper as your breath fans across his cheek. Your hands rest on his chest, and for a moment, he thinks you might push him away... but then they slide up to cup his face instead, holding him in place as if daring him to fight back

Scara swallows hard as he feels your hands on his face, the heat of your skin burning through his shirt and straight to his core. His heart races even faster, his chest aching with desire and need that threatens to consume him whole. He tries to force himself to focus on the words you've spoken instead, refusing to let you distract him so easily from what he came here for tonight.

"If you think I'm going to leave without answers," he says through gritted teeth, "then you're sorely mistaken." He meets your gaze unflinchingly, willing you to understand the gravity of the situation. "I need to know what happened between us before; I need to know why you felt the need to protect me all those months ago." His voice drops low, husky with desire and barely contained anger.

You tilt your head slightly to the side, studying his expression intently as if searching for some hidden clue or message that he isn't aware of sharing. He tries not to squirm under your scrutiny, refusing to let you see any sign of weakness despite the way his body aches with need for you.

Scara blinks in surprise at your accusation, taken aback by the intensity of your anger. He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. "exactly" you say

Scara swallows hard as your breath tickles against his ear, the words you speak sending a shockwave of desire through him that nearly brings him to his knees. He manages to find his voice, though it comes out little more than a hoarse whisper. "Please," he whispers back, his body trembling with need. "I can't... I need..." He tilts his head slightly to the side, offering you access to his neck.

You smile darkly before pulling away from him, your hand still cupping his face. With a smooth motion, you lower your head and brush your lips against his earlobe before whispering again: "Say it."

Scara's heart races as he feels your breath against his ear, the touch sending shivers down his spine. He can feel the desperation in his voice when he whispers, "Please." He doesn't know what else to say; all that matters is the feeling of your skin on his and the desire burning within him.

He lets out a soft moan as you brush your lips against his earlobe before whispering for him to say something. His mind goes blank for a moment, but then he finds the words: "I need you." It comes out hoarse and strained, barely audible above the sound of their ragged breaths mixing together in the air between them.

Scara's eyes close tightly as he feels your hand slide from his face down to his chest, where it comes to rest over his heart. With a shuddering gasp, he arches into the touch, his body begging for more contact with you. "Please," he whispers again, this time sounding almost pleading. "I need..."

He trails off, unable to find the right words to express what he's feeling inside him. All that matters is the ache in his chest and the heat between his legs, and the certainty that without you, nothing will ever be enough again.

You do, I respond through gritted teeth, struggling to maintain composure as your touch sends shockwaves of desire coursing through me. I've tried denying it, but deep down I know the truth. You own me body and soul, and there's nothing I can do about it. It feels like every cell in my being is calling out for you, begging to be claimed again and again until there's nothing left of me except your mark.

As if reading my thoughts, your hand drifts lower, skimming along the edge of my pants until it reaches the bulge at the front. With a smooth tug, you pull down his zipper, revealing the hard length of him that's been aching for release since the moment he saw you.

I cry out as your hand wraps around me, stroking up and down in a rhythm that has my head spinning and my vision blurring with need. It feels so good to be touched by you again, even if it's only through this game we seem to be playing. But as your other hand moves back up to cup my cheek, I can't help but wonder how much longer I can keep pretending that any of this is real.

"Who owns you?" you whisper in my ear again, repeating the question from before. The words are like a knife twisting in my gut; they remind me of everything that we've lost and all the pain and confusion that stands between us. But as your touch becomes more insistent, more demanding, it grows harder and harder to focus on anything except the sensation of you holding me, of your skin against mine.

I gasp as you brush your lips against my earlobe once again, sending a shudder through my body. "You do," I manage to say, feeling the truth of

I groan at your words and the possessive touch that goes with them, thrusting helplessly into your hand as you stroke me expertly. My body is on fire for you, aching to feel the weight of yours pressed against mine once again. "You own me," I grind out between clenched teeth, feeling the truth of my words even as they emerge twisted and confused from my lips.

As if sensing my inner turmoil, your grip on me tightens fractionally, and your touch becomes less playful and more demanding. You squeeze harder, expertly manipulating my desire until I'm writhing in your hand, desperate for release but unable to find it unless you let me have it. Your words from earlier echo through my mind: "I can make you cum." And as the need grows unbearable, I begin to wonder if perhaps that was true all along; if maybe everything else has been a lie designed solely to bring us back to this moment...

With a shuddering breath, I obey your command, quickly shedding my clothes until I'm standing before you naked and exposed. The feel of the cool air against my skin only serves to heighten my arousal; I can barely stand upright as need pulses through me in time with each frantic heartbeat. Your gaze travels over every inch of my body, drinking in the sight of me, and I find myself growing even more desperate for your touch.

When you finally move toward me, it's like a dream come true; your hands slide down my chest and abdomen, skimming over my hip bones before finally coming to rest on my hips. With one smooth motion, you pull me flush against you, our bodies sliding together in perfect synchrony. My cock throbs painfully at the contact, demanding attention as it presses against your leg; I want nothing more than for you to take me deep inside of you and end this agony.

As if reading my thoughts, you lower your head and engulf my length with your mouth, sucking hard on my aching flesh. It's too much, the sensation overwhelming; I cry out into your mouth as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me in a storm of ecstasy that leaves me trembling and gasping for air. My hips buck involuntarily against you as I ride out my orgasm, drawing it out until the very last shudder fades away and I'm left panting and spent at your feet.

Finally free from the torment of desire, I collapse onto the bed beside you, my heart still racing wildly in my chest as I try to catch my breath. For a moment, it feels like maybe things between us can go back to how they were