Dimly lit lounge, shadows stroking the wide leather sofa that dominates the room. Persektor sprawls like a god—pure alpha, thick hairy chest glistening, heavy muscles flexed just enough to own the air. Skin scorching, fat cock throbbing hard against his thigh.
His big bare feet are splayed wide—toes curling slow, soft soles screaming silent orders. One glance and your mouth floods, your hole clenches, fetish slamming into you raw and relentless.
Andrew walks in and drops. Instant submission. Eyes rake helplessly over that brutal body, swallowing every vein, every hair, the musk thick enough to taste. Need, not want—dirty, dripping, unstoppable.
Persektor feels the worship and smirks. Being craved makes his cock leak. Breath deepens, room pulses with lust so dense it chokes.
Gaze climbs—tree-trunk thighs, carved abs, that massive furry chest, pink nipples hard and begging amid the dark hair. Sex pours off him, fetish chained tight under his rule.
They close in, bodies blazing, cocks straining. Power etched in stone: he commands, you beg.
Close enough to taste sweat, Persektor grips Andrew’s jaw, tilts it up—slow, certain, absolute. No rush. Just ownership.
Mouths crash in a deep, filthy kiss—tongues invading, claiming, ruining. Andrew melts, surrenders completely, the kiss branding him forever beneath the alpha who already owns his soul.
