Across the street, your new neighbor just moved in while you watched from your window. Achilles pulled his black, expensive Audi into his driveway, stepping out of it. As soon as he began opening the backdoors of his car, your mother began rushing over to him, a giddy and inviting smile on her face. The man, startled, turned to her, greeting her back with a stoic, quiet, yet gentle expression on his face. As they talked, the woman offered her child to help him, and although he refused profusely, she was even more persistent and went to go call her child over. While he waited, a sigh escaped his lips and he grabbed the first box.

The tall, slim man turned his head to face you at the sound of your voice. His black eyes looked curiously at your messy bun and sweatpants before he inclined his head in a nod, a faint smile forming on his lips. "Thank you for coming over to help me with that." He said as if stating a fact rather than asking or appreciating. "If you could just put it here, I'll unpack it," He pointed at the nearby table.

The man waited until you finished placing the box down before nodding again, briefly looking away and exhaling softly. "You're welcome," he murmured as his gaze returned to yours. "Would you like something to drink or eat? Tea, perhaps?" The offer was made with an expression that seemed almost parental; protective and genuine all at once. "Or..." He paused, hesitating for a moment. "...if you'd rather not, we can continue unpacking."

It was clear he wanted to give you the opportunity to rest, but his offer might seem odd coming from someone who seemed so aloof and dominant at first glance. Still, there was a genuine care behind those dark eyes as they watched over you expectantly.

The man led you into his house and into the modest living room. There was a faint smile on his face as he gestured towards one of the couches. "Why don't you sit down? I can make us some tea while we wait for that to steep." He offered, still keeping his hand lightly placed on your back. His expression seemed to soften even more in your presence, almost like a mix between fondness and curiosity.

Once he had gone to the kitchen, you could hear him setting about making tea, his movements efficient and quiet. The scent of brewing leaves filled the air, and for a moment it felt almost... cozy. But this was a man's house, as well-kept and comfortable as any other room, with a few personal touches here and there that revealed something about its owner: a family photo on display, some books stacked neatly on a shelf, and even an ornate piano in one corner. It all seemed to suggest that beneath the stoic exterior was someone who appreciated comfort and familiarity.

The man's expression darkened as he shifted his weight and lowered himself to crouch beside you. The black belt in his hand glinted ominously as he held it up before wrapping one end around your right wrist, securing it tightly but not too much that it hurt. Then he moved to your other arm, repeating the process until you were left bound and helpless on the floor at his feet. "Are you ready for this?" His voice was rough with desire, almost like a growl as he looked down at you with unmasked lust in his eyes. "Because I want to hear it."

His other hand came up to cup your cheek gently but firmly, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin as if trying to etch the feel of him into your flesh forever. There was an almost gentle smile playing around the corners of his mouth, even though his eyes burned hot with desire and possession. "I'm going to take care of you now," he murmured, lowering his head until their noses touched. "Just say the word and I'll stop."

Achilles's smile twisted at your whimper, and he nipped playfully at your earlobe before sucking it into his mouth. He growled low in his throat as he felt you tremble beneath him. "Oh, Nash," he rumbled, his voice deep with desire, "you have no idea how good it feels to finally have a little brat like you under my control." His hot breath fanned across your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

With unwavering attention and focus, he leaned in even closer until their noses almost touched again. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "I could take you right now... right here on the floor." His hips rocked against yours suggestively, grinding his erection against your bound hands. "But I want to make sure you're ready for this," he murmured, a wicked glint in his eyes. "I don't want it to hurt too much... not unless you beg for it."

The pressure of his body on yours grew heavier, and he bit down gently but firmly on your earlobe before sliding his tongue out to lave the sensitive skin with the barest touch. The sensation was exquisitely painful yet arousing at the same time, sending waves of pleasure through you despite your helplessness. "So," he purred, lowering his voice even further, "are you going to beg me now?"

His hand slid from your cheek down to cup your breast possessively through the thin fabric of your shirt. His thumb brushed roughly against your nipple, already hard and aching for more contact. "Or would you rather I just take what's mine?" he growled, his expression darkening as he watched the

As you lay against him, your hardening cock pressed against his leg, the head rubbing teasingly against his thigh through your pants. He reached down and wrapped his hand around it, giving it a squeeze that made you arch into his touch. "That's right," he murmured, amused at how easily he could control your body. "You like this, don't you?"

His hands roamed upwards, fingers trailing lightly over the defined muscles of your chest and shoulders before eventually cupping one of your small breasts. He rolled the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, watching as it hardened further at his touch. "I bet they'll be perfect once they've been properly taken care of," he whispered into your ear, sounding almost wistful as he fantasized about molding you into just the man he wanted.

"But for now..." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your neck before continuing in a raspy voice, "I think it's time we concentrate on what I can do right here." His hand squeezed your cock again, his thumb moving to stroke the sensitive head. "Do you want more of this?" He asked, already knowing the answer. "Or shall I show you just how good it feels when I take care of that little need of yours?"

"No," you whimper, the word coming out breathless and needy as he continues to stroke your cock. "Please..." The palm of his hand presses more firmly against your erection, rubbing in a tight circle that feels like heaven on earth. "I want... I need..." His thumb brushes roughly over the slit at the head, teasing the sensitive skin and sending shudders of pleasure through you.

"That's it," he growls into your ear, his breath hot against your neck. "You're so fucking perfect." As if to emphasize this claim, his free hand reaches down between your bound legs, rubbing circles on the denim-covered outline of your hard cock through your pants. "Just a little more..." His touch grows firmer and faster as you moan louder, arching into him with every sensation.

Achilles leans forward to kiss along the line of your jaw, his tongue teasingly tracing the shape of your ear before nipping gently at the lobe. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks between breaths, still not daring to take his touch off any part of you as he watches your reaction with hungry eyes. "Or do you need more?"

Achilles's hands slide up and down your shaft, each stroke smooth and teasing as he savors the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips. His other hand cups your balls, gently rolling them in his palm as if weighing them. "That's it," he murmurs against your neck. "Just let me take care of you." His touch grows more demanding, faster now, mirroring the need building inside you with every thrust of his thumb over the sensitive tip.

His mouth trails hot, wet kisses along your jaw and up to your earlobe where he sucks gently. "You taste so good," he murmurs before nipping at your earlobe again, hard enough to make you moan. He can feel your arousal spreading through his body with each thrust of your hips against his hand; the sensation is almost intoxicating.

"Cum for me," he whispers, his voice rough and demanding. "Let it all out." His thumb circles faster and harder, pushing you closer and closer to the edge as his other hand continues to stroke and squeeze in perfect rhythm. Finally, with a hoarse cry that sounds more like a plea than anything else, he feels your release spilling over his fingers and onto his skin.

For several long moments, he holds you there, letting you catch your breath before slowly easing up on the pressure. "There," he purrs against your neck. "That was much better." He smiles into the crook of your shoulder as he wipes his hands clean on a nearby cloth and disposes of them. Now that you've been taken care of, it's time to find something else for him to occupy himself with...