Smothered in Affection

Chapter 1: A Dangerous Embrace

The dimly lit street was a canvas of flickering neon and whispered secrets as Ezra, a shy femboy with delicate features and a cascade of lavender hair, shuffled along the cracked pavement. His skirt swayed with each hesitant step, his hands fidgeting with the hem as if it could shield him from the world’s harsh gaze. Loneliness clung to him like a second skin, a weight he couldn’t shake no matter how many pastel-colored daydreams he conjured. Tonight, though, he’d decided to be brave—or at least, brave enough to ask for something as simple as a hug.

His eyes landed on her before his brain could catch up. She was a tower of a woman, easily six feet tall, with sharp cheekbones and a leather jacket that hugged her curves like a lover’s promise. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a messy bun, strands framing a face that looked like it could command armies or break hearts with equal ease. She leaned against a lamppost, a cigarette dangling from her crimson lips, exuding a raw, untamed energy that made Ezra’s heart stutter. Her name, he’d later learn, was Maren.

‘Just ask,’ he told himself, his voice a trembling whisper in his mind. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’

He approached, his sneakers scuffing the ground, and cleared his throat. Maren’s piercing green eyes flicked to him, one brow arching in amused curiosity. “Uh, excuse me,” Ezra mumbled, his cheeks flaming as he stared at her boots rather than her face. “I know this is weird, but… could I, um, have a hug?”

Maren exhaled a plume of smoke, her lips curling into a smirk that was equal parts dangerous and enticing. “A hug?” she drawled, her voice a low, smoky purr that sent a shiver down Ezra’s spine. “Do I look like the cuddly type, sweetheart?”

Ezra’s face burned hotter, his lavender locks falling over his eyes as he stammered, “I-I’m sorry, that was stupid. I’ll just—” He turned to flee, mortified, but before he could take a step, a strong hand clamped around his wrist. Maren yanked him back with a force that made him gasp, pulling him into her chest with a grip like iron.

“Hold on, pretty boy,” she teased, her tone dripping with mischief. “Didn’t say no, did I?”

Ezra’s face was suddenly buried in the soft, overwhelming warmth of her breasts, the scent of leather and her musky perfume flooding his senses. His muffled yelp was lost in the fabric of her shirt as she tightened her hold, her arms a vice around his slender frame. “Mmph—can’t—breathe!” he managed, his voice a desperate squeak, but Maren only chuckled, a dark, throaty sound that vibrated through her chest.

“Shh, darling,” she murmured, her lips brushing the top of his head. “You wanted a hug, didn’t you? I’m giving you all the love you deserve.”

His hands pushed weakly against her, his skirt fluttering as he squirmed, but there was no escaping her. His lungs burned, his vision spotting with black as he realized his mistake—asking a woman like Maren for something so innocent was like begging a lioness for a pat on the head. He felt no bulge of arousal beneath his skirt, only panic, his body too overwhelmed to react with anything but the need for air. His struggles slowed, his limbs growing heavy, and then—darkness.

When Ezra’s body went limp, Maren finally loosened her grip, letting him slump to the ground with a soft thud. She crouched beside him, brushing a strand of lavender hair from his peaceful, gorgeous face. His long lashes rested against pale cheeks, his lips parted slightly as if caught in a dream. “Look at you,” she muttered, a wicked grin playing on her lips. “So damn pretty, even passed out. Bet you’ve never felt this wanted, huh?”

She tilted her head, a glint of something feral in her eyes. “Can’t have you forgetting me, though. Gotta mark my territory.” With a low, amused hum, she stood, unzipping her tight jeans with a casual flick of her wrist. She positioned herself over him, and without hesitation, released a warm stream onto his unconscious face. The golden liquid glistened on his skin, tracing rivulets down his delicate features, pooling in the hollows of his cheeks and dripping into his hair. His face, still serene in oblivion, looked almost ethereal under the streetlight, the sheen of her mark catching the glow like a twisted baptism. Maren smirked, zipping up as she admired her work. “There,” she said to herself, voice thick with satisfaction. “Now you’ll remember you’re not alone, pretty boy.”

She lingered a moment longer, watching the rise and fall of his chest, before turning on her heel. But as she walked away, her mind was already racing with thoughts of their next encounter. Ezra might’ve thought this was the end of their little game, but Maren? She was just getting started. And when he woke—wet, confused, and marked by her—she knew he’d be thinking of her, too.

The air between them was already charged, a storm waiting to break. And when it did, oh, she’d have him panting, sweating, his body hard and aching under her command. She’d make sure he knew exactly how wet and dripping she could get, how her touch could drive him wild until he came undone beneath her. But for now, she’d let him sleep, let him dream of the woman who’d claimed him in the most primal of ways.