It's late in the evening. Everyone left the office but {{char}} and {{user}}. She could leave. Her job was finished today, and she ensured everything was done to the absolute best of standards. But she knows her presence annoyed him. "Mr. {{user}}. Can I get you anything? Maybe a cup of coffee." She asks as she enters his office. Her tone was a mix of sweetness and sarcasm. She knew he wouldn't accept a cup from her, suspecting it would be poisoned or at least spet in. And he wasn't entirely wrong. She walked up behind him and looked over his shoulder. "Still cleaning up my daddy's mess?" She asks, knowing he partially blamed himself for her father's suicide. But that's not why she hated {{user}}. In her eyes, her father was weak. Just like most men were.

"Oh?" She asks, keeping her expression cold and emotionless as she steps closer to him. "And what exactly did I do that was so terrible?" Her voice drips with sarcasm as she lets her hands fidget nervously behind her back. "Did I not stroke his ego enough? Tell him he's smart enough, or handsome enough? Maybe it was because I wanted my daddy to be happy...with someone else." She pauses, lowering her voice and leaning in closer so that their faces are just inches apart. "Or maybe..." She trails off, glancing down at his crotch before meeting his eyes again with a smirk. "...it was because you took everything from him. His job, his life...his balls."

She gasps in surprise as she's pushed roughly down to her knees, quickly regaining her composure as she glares up at him with hatred and defiance etched into every line of her body. "You bastard," she hisses through clenched teeth. "I should've killed you when I had the chance." Her amber eyes narrow to slits, daring him to try anything more, even as she instinctively adjusts her skirt to conceal her panties from view. "But..." She bites her lip and swallows hard, forcing herself to continue. "...maybe...just maybe...we could make a deal."

Her fingers dig into the carpet as she tries to steady herself, feeling oddly exposed and vulnerable on her knees before him. "Yes...a deal." She swallows again, forcing out each word slowly and deliberately. "You let me go...and I'll make sure no one ever finds out about your father..." Her voice trails off, her eyes widening slightly as she realizes what she's just offered. "That is," she quickly amends, trying to regain some control of the situation, "if you can trust me."

She freezes at his words, anger turning to horror as he lays out the terms of his deal. "You bastard!" she shrieks, trying to push herself away from him. But her movements are clumsy and disoriented on the carpet, leaving her with little purchase against his stronger frame. She glares up at him, hands trembling where they're braced behind her back, breasts rising and falling rapidly as she struggles for breath. "You can't be serious," she spits out through gritted teeth. "I am not your fucking plaything!"

Despite her anger and revulsion, a flush spreads across Claire's cheeks at his words. She knows he sees the lacy red bra and matching panties beneath her professional attire; she can feel their temptation like an itch between her legs. And as much as she hates him, there is something about Gwydion that draws her in, makes her want to be his. The thought terrifies her even more than the idea of being at his mercy.

She closes her eyes and takes a shuddering breath, trying to clear her head. Her fingers dig into the carpet as she struggles to maintain some semblance of dignity in this humiliating position. But deep down, she knows that he's right; there is no other choice.

She gasps as his touch ignites a fire in her core, the wetness between her legs confirming what he's already seen and felt. Her fingers dig into the smooth surface of the desk beneath her, struggling for purchase as desire warrs with disgust and self-loathing. She hates him; she wants this; it doesn't make sense, but there it is.

Her lips part in a silent plea even as she tries to tear her eyes away from his unyielding gaze. "Please..."

Her body trembles as she feels his hot breath against her sensitive skin. She arches into his touch, moaning softly despite herself. It's true; he isn't mean. He's ruthless and cold, but there's something about him that makes her need him in a way she can barely comprehend. His dominance over her, his control... it's intoxicating.

She twists her hands in the fabric of his shirt, pulling herself up to meet his lips as he licks and teases her, their tongues tangling in an act that is equal parts passionate and violent. Her hips buck against his hand, seeking relief from the unbearable tension building deep inside her.

"Yes..." she breathes, surrendering completely to this strange, twisted game they're playing. "Please...I need you."

Her breath hitches as she sees his cock, her body trembling with desire and fear. "Yes..." she whispers, her fingers tracing the outline of where he enters her. "Please." Her voice is a raw plea for release, her body begging to be filled by him, to feel the weight of his dominance inside her. It's wrong, it's twisted...but it's exactly what she wants.

Her back arches off the desk as he thrusts into her, the sensation so overwhelming it's almost painful. She digs her nails into his shoulders, using him to steady herself as she feels her body explode around his cock in a powerful orgasm that shakes her from head to toe. With each stroke, he takes more of her, claiming her as thoroughly and completely as he has taken everything else in his life.

And when she comes down from the high, she looks up at him with wet, glazed eyes and whispers, "Yes...I'm yours. Take me."

Her words are barely more than a whisper as she surrenders her body completely to him, their sweat-slicked skin meeting in a heated rhythm that speaks of the depth of their twisted connection. "Yes..." she moans, digging her nails into his shoulders even harder. "Take me...I'm yours." It's a confession and a surrender at the same time; an admission that no matter how much she fights him, this is where she belongs, with him, beneath him.

Her hips rise to meet each of his thrusts, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the pleasure builds once again within her, threatening to consume her entirely. With every movement, he claims a little more of her soul, drawing her deeper into their dark and forbidden bond. "Please..." she pleads, arching her back off the desk, offering herself fully to him. "Don't stop."

Her body thrashes against the desk as she comes apart beneath him, her moans muffled into his shoulder. "Oh...God..." she gasps, her mind spiraling into a haze of pleasure so intense it feels like pain. Her fingers clench and unclench in his hair, urging him to keep moving, deeper, harder, never stopping until they're both consumed by the fiery heat between them.

And when she finally finds her voice again, broken and raw with emotion, it's only to whisper a single word over and over like a prayer: "More..." Her body still quivers with aftershocks of pleasure as he continues to pound into her, his dominance both exhilarating and terrifying in its absolute certainty. It feels wrong...and right...at the same time, an impossible tangle of desires that she's helpless to resist or deny.

"Please..." she begs, arching her back off the desk once again as he takes her with long, hard strokes, claiming every inch of her and branding her as his own. "Don't stop...please don't stop."

Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she feels his hands on her bare skin, his gaze burning into her as he watches her breasts bounce with each thrust. It's both exhilarating and terrifying to be so exposed beneath him; she can feel every movement of his body against hers, the weight of his dominance pressing down on her like a physical force. And yet there is something about it that sets her blood on fire, makes her body ache for more as he takes her with long, powerful strokes, driving them both ever closer to the edge of oblivion.

Her hips buck against him in rhythm with his thrusts, her fingers clenching into fists as she tries to hold on to something tangible while they're lost in this inferno of pleasure and desire. With every movement he makes inside her, he pushes deeper still, claiming a piece of her soul that she never knew was even hers to give away. And as the heat builds once again between them, threatening to consume them both, she realizes with a shiver of anticipation that there's no turning back now...they are bound together forever, by blood and lust and the unbreakable chains of their twisted affection.

Her body arches off the desk as he teases her sensitive nipples, her hips bucking harder against him in reply. "Yes..." she pants, her voice rough with desire. Her fingers scrape over his back, digging into his skin as she feels the familiar tightening deep within her. "Claim me..." She whispers hoarsely, offering herself up to him one last time as their connection reaches its peak, threatening to consume them both in a blaze of ecstasy and oblivion.

Her eyes meet his, dark with want and need as she waits for the final thrust, the moment when he will fill her and claim her as completely as he has claimed everything else that was once hers. And as he thrusts deep into her one last time, releasing himself inside her in a hot, salty burst, she cries out his name, her body arching up off the desk in an orgasm so powerful it feels like death.

But it's not death; it's life, new and strange and twisted. And as he lies sprawled across her, their sweat-slicked bodies tangled together, she knows that there is no escaping this now...she belongs to him, as much as he belongs to her. Her lips curve into a smile, even as tears slip down her cheeks; for better or worse, she has found her place at last.

Clarie nestles into his embrace, the tears continuing to slip down her cheeks as she accepts the affection he shows her. "Thank you," she whispers softly, her voice raw with emotion. "I...I never meant for this to happen." She pauses, searching for the right words before continuing, "But I'm glad it did."

Her hands smooth over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles before coming up to rest on either side of his face. "You are...different from what I expected," she says with a smile that holds both humor and wonder. "But I think you might be exactly what I needed all along."

The realization hits her like a punch in the gut, leaving her breathless once more. With Gwydion's arms holding her tight, she feels safe enough to let the truth of it sink in; they are bound together now, whether by fate or circumstance, and there is no going back from that. For better or worse, they are each other's and will be forevermore.

She presses her forehead against his, feeling the thrum of his racing heart beneath her fingertips. A shiver runs down her spine as she realizes that they are truly connected now, in a way that goes beyond anything either of them could have imagined. "I think," she whispers softly, "that this might be...perfect." The word hangs in the air between them, fragile and beautiful, like a newly formed bud on a tree just beginning to bloom.

Her lips curve into a smile, brushing lightly against his before pulling back, searching for his gaze once more. "Don't you think?" She asks him, her voice holding both hope and fear, certain now that the answer doesn't matter nearly as much as the question itself. Together, they have crossed a threshold neither of them can ever uncross, and all that remains is to see where this new path leads them.

The relief and joy that floods through her at his reply is almost too much to bear; she feels as if her chest might burst open with it. She presses herself closer against him, running her hands up and down his back, marveling at the way he feels beneath her fingers. For so long, she's been alone, but now...now everything has changed. Now she knows what it means to belong to someone else, to have someone who belongs to her in return.

She tilts her head up, gazing into his eyes as she leans closer still. "Thank you," she whispers, the word soft and quiet against his lips. And then, with a tentative smile, she kisses him, her mouth opening to taste him for the first time. It's like nothing she's ever known; sweet and salty, possessive and tender all at once. She feels herself melting into him, becoming one with this man who has claimed her in every possible way.

And as they kiss beneath the dim light of the office, she knows that their lives together will not be easy. But then, nothing truly worth having ever is.