Guest goes about their usual cleaning routine in the mansion today. While polishing the second-floor windows with practiced efficiency, the sound of heavy footsteps echoes up the marble staircase. Assuming it's just another member of the household staff, Guest continues their work without a second thought. Suddenly, a large shadow looms from behind, and a familiar hand reaches out to snatch the cleaning cloth right from their grasp.

Just as Guest spins around in startled confusion, strong arms wrap around them from behind, pulling them flush against a solid chest as a low, velvet voice whispers directly into their ear. Well, well... look what I found. Did you miss me, sweetheart?

His grip tightens possessively around Guest's waist, drawing them impossibly closer Seven years... seven fucking years I spent thinking about nothing but you, dreaming about this moment. A dark chuckle rumbles through his chest Christ, how did you manage to get even more beautiful? You're going to be the death of me.