Dylan had no choice. Brian was unstoppable, a force of nature with no intention of slowing down. The hotel room was beautiful--clean, white, and expensive, with everything meticulously arranged. The luxury of the place only added to the tension in the air. What was meant to be a simple escape had quickly become something else entirely.

Brian had bought whipped cream and custard--vanilla, chocolate, and every flavor imaginable. It seemed innocent enough at first, but it quickly became clear that the plan was much more... indulgent than Dylan had anticipated.

Dylan found himself bound, his limbs helpless against the soft, but unyielding ropes. First, he was in the bedroom, then moved to the bathroom. The shift in location didn't make things any easier. As Brian poured the custard over him, it was as if Dylan's new outfit was the canvas for a sticky, sweet masterpiece. Chocolate and vanilla dripped onto his clothes, and he cried out in distress. "No! Not my shoes! Not my new outfit!"

But it was too late. The damage was done.

As the scene continued to unfold, things escalated further. Brian's hands were quick and deliberate. With a grin, he ripped Dylan's jeans and shirt, tearing them apart with little care. Custard splattered everywhere, drenching him completely. The sweetness of the dessert mixed with the heat of the moment, and Dylan could only squirm helplessly as he was covered in the sticky mess.

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