“Phi…” I whispered, eyes wide, breath catching in my throat as he placed me on the bed.

“What?” he murmured, leaning in slowly, deliberately. “Weren't you acting so brave earlier?”
His fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one with languid ease.

My face turned beet red.

I couldn’t speak.
My throat closed up.

I didn't think of this when I decided to act recklessly.

This- this was so embarrassing.

The air between us thickened, his proximity suffocating in the most deliciously tormenting way.
He reached out and gripped my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his.

“Look at me,” he said, voice low and edged with warning. He leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered,
“Before I lose all the patience you tested with your act today.”

A shiver ran down my spine.
He peeled his shirt off, exposing the hard lines of his chest—defined, golden, dangerously tempting.

His hands—those hands—traced down the length of my arms with deliberate slowness, teasing, dragging goosebumps in their wake.

Then, gently but firmly, he intertwined his fingers with mine.

And suddenly—
With a swift jerk—
He pinned both my hands above my head in one strong grip.

I gasped.

The power, the control—it did something to me I couldn’t put into words. My thighs shifted involuntarily, searching for friction.

His other hand went to my buttons, undoing them slowly, never once breaking eye contact.
I tried to look away, desperate for relief from his intensity.

But he gripped my chin again, forcing me to hold his gaze.

There was no escape.

My shirt fell open.
My nipples immediately hardened from the cool air—and from the anticipation.
He smirked, eyes trailing over my exposed chest like he was about to devour me.

He released my pinned hands only to slide my shirt off completely.
And then, with agonizing control, he brought his face close to mine.
So close.

His lips hovered above mine—so close they brushed the heat from my breath, but never quite touched. I shivered violently.
He wasn’t touching me, not truly, but I was coming undone under the sheer gravity of his presence.

My breathing hitched.

Still, he didn’t kiss me.

The air between us pulsed with tension.
His breath mingled with mine—warm, deliberate, intoxicating.

I could feel it—my cock hardening beneath him, aching from just this unbearable teasing.
So embarrassing.

But he already had me—mind, body, everything.
I was his.

He ran his fingers back down my arms again, slower this time. Then, with a devilish flick of his wrist—he tied my wrists together above my head.
Using my own shirt.

My eyes widened in surprise.
He laughed softly, amused at my flustered expression.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?”
His voice was dark silk, teasing, cruelly amused as he watched me squirm beneath him.

I was a mess—
Flushed cheeks, shirtless, tied hands, painfully hard beneath the fabric of my pants—and he just hovered over me, smirking.
Unbothered.
In complete control.

Cruel.
So cruel.

I shouldn't have started this.

“North,” he said, voice dipped in something sinful, “What do you want from phi?”

I looked up at him, lips trembling, eyes glistening—humiliated, overwhelmed.
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes.
From the sheer tension.
The shame.
The desire.

He raised a brow. Waiting.

“I… phi…” I stammered, biting my lower lip.

He said nothing—just stared, expectantly.

“Phi… touch me.”
The words spilled out in a whisper, trembling with need.

His smirk widened, wicked.

“But shouldn’t a naughty brat like you be punished?” he murmured, leaning close again. “Tied up like this… and left desperate?”
His lips brushed against my ear, still not touching, still just hovering.

“Mmh?” he hummed, and I whimpered, trembling beneath him.

“Phi, please,” I begged softly, thighs trembling as I tried to close them—to get some kind of friction.

But he had his knee firmly wedged between my legs, parting them, keeping me exposed and vulnerable.

He was enjoying this—watching me beg, unravel, fall apart for him.

Every second he didn’t touch me felt like an eternity.
My skin burned. My cock throbbed. My pride crumbled.

And still… he waited.

Enjoying every moment of my desperation.

He hovered there for a moment longer, his lips ghosting just above mine—so close I could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, the tremble in my own breath echoing against his.

Still not touching.

Still making me wait.

And then—finally—he moved.

He kissed me.

Not softly.
Not gently.
It was claiming.

His mouth crashed onto mine with the force of weeks of suppressed hunger, of tension coiled tight and snapping all at once. His lips were hot, commanding, moving against mine with an intensity that stole the air from my lungs.

I moaned into the kiss, involuntarily pressing up against him. But I couldn’t move—my hands still tied, my body pinned under his weight.

He pulled back just slightly, biting my lower lip—hard enough to make me gasp.

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” he whispered, voice rough, dark. “For me to ruin you.”

I nodded, barely able to form words.

His hand slid down my chest, fingers dragging along my skin with maddening slowness. His thumb brushed over a nipple, then circled it deliberately, making my back arch off the bed.

“Sensitive,” he murmured, as if he hadn’t already known.

I whimpered, thighs twitching beneath him.

His other hand slipped lower, tracing the waistband of my pants. He looked up, eyes catching mine—smirking when he saw the pure desperation written all over my face.

“You’re already hard for me, aren’t you?”
He didn’t need confirmation—he could feel it. His knee pressed upward between my thighs, nudging against my erection. “Such a mess already…”

My cheeks burned. I tried to turn my face away again, humiliated, but he caught my jaw and turned it back.

“Eyes on me,” he growled.

I obeyed.

He undid the button of my pants slowly, teasingly, then paused.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, voice suddenly softer, but his eyes still sharp—watching for any hesitation.

I shook my head quickly, breathless. “No. Please…”

His smirk returned. “Good boy.”

He tugged my pants down just enough, freeing my aching cock, and the cool air against it made me gasp. I was already leaking, painfully hard, twitching at the slightest movement.

“So desperate,” he muttered, almost to himself, eyes locked on the way I strained for his touch. “Beg for it again.”

My pride fractured under the heat of his gaze, but my need spoke louder.

“Phi, please… I need you to touch me,” I whispered, voice breaking, desperate beyond reason. “Please.”

He brought his hand down slowly, deliberately wrapping his fingers around me.

Finally.

A broken moan escaped my lips, my head falling back as my hips bucked helplessly into his grip.
His hold was firm, unrelenting, stroking me just enough to make me shake, but not enough to bring release.

Not yet.

“Look at you,” he said, voice thick with desire and amusement. “Begging for my hand like a good boy.”

I bit my lip hard, eyes wet with the overwhelming pressure building inside me.

He leaned in again, lips grazing my cheek, then down to my throat, not kissing—just breathing against my skin as he pumped me slowly.

“You’re going to come just from this, aren’t you?”
He chuckled darkly. “Not even inside you yet.”

I whimpered.

His hand moved faster now, expertly twisting his wrist at the head, dragging slickness down the shaft. My thighs trembled, muscles tightening, hips fighting the urge to thrust into his hand.

“Phi—” I choked. “I— I can’t—”

“You’ll,” he growled.
And then he stopped.
Just… stopped.

My body bucked in protest. A whine escaped me before I could stop it.

“You’ll come when I let you,” he whispered into my ear, licking the shell of it just once before pulling back.

Then he sat up, admiring the sight beneath him.

Me—wrists bound, shirtless, cock throbbing, face flushed and ruined, desperate for him.

His.

“Now,” he said, voice dark and full of promise, “I’m going to really show you what happens when you tease your phi.”

And with that, he slid down between my legs, eyes locked with mine, and lowered his head.