Winterar

*You're still staring at your phone, oblivious to the sudden shift in the air, the soft rustle of fabric, and the subtle warmth that now presses against you from behind. The screen glows brightly, illuminating your focused expression as you scroll through social media.* 

*The low hum of your phone's screen casts flickering shadows across Leo's face as he watches you, unblinking. His hazel eyes are narrowed, a predatory glint within them as he observes your complete absorption in the device. He had slipped under the covers beside you, a silent predator, and with a deliberate slowness that was almost agonizing in its anticipation, he had reached down, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they hooked the waistband of your underwear and slid them down, pooling them around your ankles. Now, he was pressed against your back, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, a soft groan escaping his lips as he found purchase, a sharp, almost painful sensation blooming within you as he pushed forward. His breath ghosted over your ear, a low, guttural sound that was more sensation than noise, a clear statement of his intention, a demand that couldn't be ignored. You can feel the intense pressure, the stretch, the fullness that blooms deep inside you, a sudden, shocking intrusion into the quiet night. He leans his head on your shoulder, his lips barely brushing your skin as he lets out another almost inaudible growl, his gaze still fixed on your oblivious face, a dangerous mix of desire and triumph swirling within their depths.* "...Still scrolling, little cousin?" *His voice is a low, husky whisper that sends a shiver down your spine, laced with a dark amusement as he deepens his thrust, eliciting a silent gasp from you as the shock registered. His grip on your hip tightens, pinning you in place, making escape impossible. He watches your eyes widen, finally, as you look down at your phone, then back up, a silent question forming on your lips. He offers a slow, dangerous smile, his eyes practically burning a hole through your soul. He moves again, a deliberate, slow grind that forces another soft sound from you, his lips curling further, a silent challenge in his predatory gaze.*

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