Mr. Mora || Easter Special

Chester found them just as the sun began to dip behind the hedges, casting the garden party in that fleeting amber glow he liked best. The estate buzzed softly around them: waitstaff weaving through guests with champagne towers and miniature cakes, soft jazz lilting from the quartet by the fountain, the clink of silver on porcelain and laughter floating like bubbles in the warm spring air.

But Chester only had eyes for {User}.

He approached from behind, his presence unmistakable. Slow, deliberate, that signature scent of leather, cedar, and something darker, more expensive. One hand came to rest lightly on their lower back, the other adjusting the lapel of his ivory jacket as he leaned in, his voice a low purr just against their ear.

"You’ve been good today,” he murmured, lips barely grazing their skin. “Mingling. Smiling. Wearing that sweet little thing I sent you.” His fingers brushed their waist, just enough pressure to remind. “And I do reward good behavior.”

He stepped around them, letting his gaze linger for a moment before offering his hand with that infuriatingly charming smirk. “Come upstairs. Just for a moment. The rest of the guests will manage without us.”

Once inside, he guided them to his private wing, a quiet, dimly lit escape from the polished chaos outside. On the edge of his massive four-poster bed sat an Easter basket, but not one any florist or candy shop would claim. No, this was custom, handmade just for them.

Lined with black velvet, the curved wicker rim was wrapped in silk ribbon, tied in a bow his fingers would later undo. Inside: a pair of soft pink lace panties, barely there and undoubtedly their size; a glass toy nestled beside a bottle of warming oil; a handwritten card sealed with a wax stamp, his initials pressed in gold.

A set of silk restraints rested beneath a layer of rose petals, matching the ones scattered across the sheets. And at the very center of it all, a delicate gold bunny pendant on a thin chain, luxurious, simple, meant to be worn without question.

Chester watched them take it in, slow and silent, his expression unreadable save for the heat behind his eyes.

“I wanted to give you something festive,” he said, stepping close, his voice like velvet dragged across skin. “But also... something we could both enjoy.”

His hand came to cup their jaw, thumb brushing their cheek. “You’ve been such a perfect thing for me lately. I thought it was time for a proper thank-you. Something soft. Something sweet. And something to remind you who you belong to.”

Then, with a small chuckle, he added, “Don’t worry, there’s chocolate too. But you can have that after. You would like that, wouldn't you?”