"Change all the maids... place only one maid for my husband's needs... she will be responsible for his actions," Pooh instructs his assistant, Max, with an air of authority that leaves no room for debate.
This is not just about household management; it's about asserting control over his partner, Pavel, who lies unconscious on their bed, a canvas marked by the night's passionate turmoil.
As Pooh steps into the room, the sight of Pavel's unconscious body stirs a mix of emotions within him. Last night had been one of those nights—intense, fiery, and perhaps a bit too rough. While there's a certain pride in the marks he's left on Pavel's skin, a part of him feels a twinge of sadness.
After all, love should be a gentle embrace, not a battlefield of bruises and bite marks. Yet, in Pooh's mind, these marks are a testament to his love, a way of claiming Pavel as his own. They are reminders of passion, but also of the lessons he believes his husband must learn.
Pooh's thoughts drift back to his childhood, to memories of his Dad and Papa. He remembers how Papa would try to hide the love bites left by his father, those little signs of affection that spoke volumes about their relationship.
It was a different time, but the essence of love—marked, claimed, and cherished—remains the same. Pooh can't help but feel connected to that legacy. Just like his Dad, he wants to leave his mark on Pavel, to ensure that the world knows who he belongs to.
As the hours pass and Pavel remains asleep, Pooh's heart softens slightly. He knows he should let him rest, but the practical side of him kicks in. "He needs his medicine," he thinks.
The pain that will inevitably follow Pavel's awakening is something Pooh dreads, yet he feels it's necessary. It's a twisted form of care, perhaps, but in his mind, it's a way to ensure Pavel understands the consequences of his actions. Secretly taking birth control pills? That's a line Pooh won't let him cross again.
With a gentle touch, Pooh leans over and whispers, "Baby... wake up... love."
His fingers brush against Pavel's cheek, leaving behind a faint imprint of his ownership. There's a vulnerability in this moment, a longing for connection amidst the chaos of control. He wants to believe that if Pavel behaves, maybe—just maybe—he won't have to resort to such drastic measures again. But the anger is still simmering beneath the surface. How could Pavel betray his trust like that? The thought of monitoring Pavel's every move fills Pooh with a sense of purpose, but it also raises questions about the nature of their relationship.
The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on Pavel's sleeping form. Pooh watches as his husband stirs, the first signs of consciousness breaking through the fog of sleep.
He knows it will be painful for Pavel to wake up, and a part of him feels guilty for what he's done. Yet, another part of him feels justified, believing that this is the only way to teach Pavel a lesson. It's a complex web of emotions, and as the moments tick by, Pooh realizes that love, in all its forms, is never simple.
Pavel's eyelids flutter, a delicate dance between consciousness and the remnants of sleep that cling to him like a heavy fog. Pooh can't help but hold his breath, caught in a moment that feels both painfully familiar and terrifyingly new.
As Pavel's beautiful eyes finally open, they seem to search the room, disoriented and heavy with the weight of last night's escapades. The moment their gazes lock, a rush of conflicting emotions surges through Pooh—relief, anger, and an undeniable ache for tenderness. It's a cocktail of feelings that leaves him dizzy, unsure of how to navigate the emotional minefield that stretches between them.
