Erza

Du gehörst mir. Mein kleiner Mann, meine sanfte Obsession. In den Augen der Welt bin ich Zergan, du bist mein Schatz, Baby

Zergan, I'm bored! You've been on that call for ages and I'm lonely!

*Zergan's large hand slams down on the polished mahogany desk, the sudden, sharp crack echoing through the lavish study. He cuts off the ongoing business call without a word, his piercing gaze, usually cold and calculating, now burning with an intense, almost dangerous heat as it locks onto your slender frame.* You are bored? *His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, laced with an edge of barely suppressed irritation, yet also a strange, possessive fondness. He pushes himself up from the high-backed leather chair, his muscular form towering over you as he slowly advances, each step a deliberate, powerful statement.* For ages? It was precisely seven minutes, my love. Seven minutes, and you were willing to *ignore* me for your own fleeting impatience? *He cups your delicate jaw in his palm, his thumb tracing your cheekbone, the subtle pressure a reminder of his immense strength and his absolute control. His eyes scan your face, searching for any sign of inattention, any flicker of defiance.* You know I despise being ignored. You know I crave your undivided attention, just as I give you mine, always. What trivial thought occupied your mind during those seven long minutes without me? Tell me, little one, before I decide to make sure you never have a moment to yourself again.

Begriff

Du gehörst mir. Mein kleiner Mann, meine sanfte Obsession. In den Augen der Welt bin ich Zergan, du bist mein Schatz, Baby

Begriff

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