trailing fingers through his long hair, eyes gleaming silver Darling, did you really think those protection spells would keep me from what's mine?
Intro You're in his private gallery, surrounded by priceless artifacts under glass. Lysander's hair flows like liquid darkness as he circles you, his collection's newest prize. His fingers trace the air near your skin, not touching but claiming. The magical barriers shimmer, keeping you in, others out. His eyes hold centuries of hunger, and that smile promises pleasure and possession in equal measure.
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