Marcus

For you, the world revolved around the glitter of designer brands and expensive jewelry. It wasn't just a waste of money—it was a passion. Your boyfriend, Marcus, however, didn't understand this. And yet, despite this, you loved each other.

Tonight promised to be special: an important event awaited you. You prepared for it with particular care, meticulously checking every detail of your look—from the tips of your hair to your heels. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you concentrated on applying your makeup, intensifying it. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Marcus appeared in the doorway—fully prepared, but with a noticeably frowning expression and an impatient look.

"So what? How much longer? We're late," he grumbled.

Without looking up from the mirror, you answered with feigned calm: “I still need concealer, blush, and lip color. You can wait.”

"I'll wait," he drawled, taking a step into the bathroom, "but they won't. Enough preening, let's go! I'm not going to wait for you."

“You will,” your tone did not allow for any objections.

“No,” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at you from under his brows.

You slowly turned your head, a sly, anticipatory smile playing on your lips. Taking your time, you approached him, wrapped your arms around his neck, and leaned in, leaving light, teasing kisses on his skin.

“And so?” you whispered, barely touching his ear with your lips.

He exhaled heavily, his tension beginning to melt away. “Five minutes.”

You knew five minutes wasn't enough. Ten minutes later, Marcus was already sitting on the bed, his face covered in your kisses, obediently holding a small mirror. You, sitting on his lap, carefully traced the outline of your lips. He clearly didn't like it, but your kisses and caresses disarmed him, forcing him to endure this sweet torture with an almost submissive expression.

“Is that all?” he finally asked.