#chrome door handles & knobs

[dluxdekor1]

Luxury Chrome Door Handles in India: Where to Buy and What to Look For!

 When it comes to home décor, door handles might seem like a small detail, but they play a significant role in enhancing the overall aesthetics of your space. Luxury handles can add a touch of elegance and sophistication to any room, transforming mundane doors into statement pieces. If you're looking to elevate your home with high-end door handles, this guide will help you understand where to buy and what to look for in luxury door handles in India. And if you're looking for a trusted source, look no further than Dluxdekor.

Why Choose Luxurious Door Handles?

Luxury handles for door are more than just functional items; they are an integral part of your interior design. Here are a few reasons why investing in luxury handles for door is a smart choice:

Aesthetic Appeal: Luxury handles come in a variety of designs, finishes, and materials, allowing you to choose ones that complement your interior style.

Durability: High-end door handles are made from premium materials, ensuring they last longer and withstand daily wear and tear.

Enhanced Functionality: Luxury handles often feature superior mechanisms that provide a smoother, more reliable operation.

Value Addition: Quality fixtures like luxury handles for door can increase the overall value of your home.

What to Look For in Luxurious Door Handles

When shopping, it's important to consider several factors to ensure you make the best choice for your home:

1. Material and Finish

Luxurious handles for door are available in various materials, including brass, bronze, chrome, and stainless steel. Each material offers a different look and feel, so choose one that matches your interior décor. Additionally, consider the finish—polished, satin, or matte—based on the level of shine and texture you prefer.

2. Design and Style

From modern minimalist to ornate classic designs, luxury chrome door handles come in a wide range of styles. Select a design that aligns with the overall theme of your home. For instance, a sleek chrome handle might suit a contemporary setting, while a brass handle with intricate detailing would be perfect for a more traditional space.

3. Functionality

Consider the type of door handle that suits your needs—lever handles, knob handles, or pull handles. Ensure the handles are ergonomically designed for comfortable use. Additionally, check the locking mechanisms if security is a priority.

4. Brand Reputation

Buying from a reputable brand ensures quality and reliability. Look for brands known for their craftsmanship and attention to detail.

Where to Buy Luxury Door Handles

Finding the perfect luxury door handles in India is now easier than ever with Dluxdekor. Here’s why Dluxdekor is your go-to source for high-end door handles:

Wide Range of Options

Dluxdekor offers an extensive collection of luxurious door handles in various materials, finishes, and styles. Whether you prefer modern or traditional designs, you're sure to find something that fits your taste.

Uncompromised Quality

Every product at Dluxdekor is crafted with precision and care, ensuring you receive door handles that are not only beautiful but also durable and functional.

Expert Assistance

The team at Dluxdekor is knowledgeable and ready to help you choose the perfect door handles for your home. Their expertise ensures you make an informed decision that enhances your interior design.

Convenient Shopping Experience

Dluxdekor's user-friendly website makes it easy to browse their collection, read detailed product descriptions, and make purchases with confidence. Plus, they offer reliable shipping across India, ensuring your luxury chrome door handles arrive promptly and in perfect condition.

Final Thoughts

Investing in luxury cabinet handles is a simple yet impactful way to elevate the aesthetics and functionality of your home. By paying attention to materials, design, functionality, and brand reputation, you can choose door handles that perfectly complement your interiors. For a seamless shopping experience and a wide selection of high-quality products, Dluxdekor is the ideal destination for luxury door handles in India.

[blueywrites]

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, smut, fingering (v), p in v, praise kink, emotional sex, angst, hurt no comfort (there will be a happy ending!)

chapter seven : entombed (18k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the song for this chapter is #24.

From the day you arrived

I've remained by your side

In chains

Entombed

Entombed — Deftones

The bathroom countertop is solid white. The sink is recessed, and the faucet is modern and angular, reflected in the tall mirror mounted to the wall behind it. The mirror also reflects the shower behind you. It has a glass front, and the walls are comprised of large white and gray marblesque tiles. The fixtures— the rainfall showerhead, drain, shower knob, and handle— are all chrome to match the sink faucet and the modern, conical lights that frame the mirror. 

It's bright inside the bathroom. The lightbulbs are LED, cool-toned, and the wall lights are joined by discs recessed into the ceiling. Even the smooth wooden vanity beneath the countertop is light birch, and on the lowest shelf near your ankle, two fluffy white hand towels are still folded, as yet unused. The bathroom is radiant and clean. Perfect for a beach location. Plenty of light for preparing for a fun night out. 

No dark corners to hide in.

There's another, smaller mirror on the countertop. It's curved, meant to magnify and assist in the even application of makeup. A neat row of tiny bottles lines a narrow tray on the other side of the sink: hand lotion, shampoo, conditioner, then mouthwash. In another dish, a creamy bar of hand soap has already been revealed. Its discarded wrapper is in the small trashcan near the toilet. 

The thin door is a buffer between yourself and the indistinct murmur of voices outside. The murmuring is audible, but the words are indiscernible. When that murmuring is buried underneath smooth R&B that begins playing on the other side of the door, you finally meet your gaze in the mirror.

Your cheeks glow with a healthy flush. The milk and honey of your satin dress hugs your curves, dipping low to reveal ample cleavage, slitted high to expose a supple thigh. The sweat from the club has dried now in the cool air of the room where you've been hiding. 

You've examined every feature of this hotel bathroom to distract yourself from the overwhelming wave of mixed emotions you've been battling since the Uber ride back from the club. In the backseat, a khaki thigh pressing to yours; soft, broad fingers played in your hair. On his other side, a flash of orange and powdery soft giggles; arms intertwining, porcelain and tan. In front of you, an angular shoulder shifting with the car's turns, peeking beyond the passenger seat; a splay of dark curls against the white fabric. Just four tipsy friends sharing a ride back to their hotel room after a fun night out vacationing in a tropical city. Outside, your lips were curved in an idle smile. Inside, the tide of your emotions threatened to pull you under.

The intensity of the night's moments between you and Eddie— kissing him in the middle of the crowded dance floor, holding his gaze during the fireworks show— hadn't faded. You felt raw, like an exposed nerve; your green searched for him even with Steve's warm side brushing against yours. But the trepidation had returned, resurging as you'd imagined what your play tonight would look like. Because when you'd pictured Chrissy touching Eddie, you'd felt a sour pinch of jealousy, a hint of possessiveness you aren't entitled to. And because, when you'd pictured yourself kissing Steve, you'd felt a twinge of impatience. As if tonight he would be an obstacle keeping you from what you really want. 

You've been oozing with thick, sticky guilt since you'd thought it.

You can't deny that your remaining guilt isn't the only reason you're still hiding in the bathroom. You're also hesitant to emerge and find yourself thrust into one of those scenarios you'd imagined, knowing that your green will tremble restlessly until it finds the light in brown eyes and the charcoal that nourish it. Still, when the murmurs muffling through the thin door finally subside into silence, and all you can hear is the smooth, rhythmic R&B beat left behind, you know you need to finally face the music, so to speak.

Tentative fingers push open the bathroom door from the inside, and your eyes are drawn automatically to movement on the bed furthest from the balcony— Chrissy and Eddie's bed. But Chrissy's soft porcelain doesn't glide against pale quartz; her blonde hair doesn't drag down an inky chest. Instead, her dainty fingers are tangled in disheveled waves, and her pink bow lips are being devoured by your boyfriend's hungry kisses. You note absently that their orange and khaki are gone, leaving their skin entirely bare. As you watch them for a moment, you note that Steve and Chrissy seem frenzied with hot insistence tonight, more so than usual. Maybe they got worked up dancing, too. The thought is almost entirely dispassionate.

You turn your gaze to the other bed, eyes finding beautiful brown so quickly it almost feels like instinct.

Eddie is sitting on the edge, elbows braced on his knees, legs splayed wide, feet planted on the floor. His hands hang in the space between. Just like you, he's still fully dressed aside from his shoes. The white of his shirt pulls taut across his shoulders, and his dark curls spill over one shoulder, still tied back to reveal the cords of his neck, the angular shadow of his jaw, and the glint of silver hanging from his earlobes. His face is blank aside from the intensity of his eyes, which follow you as you softly pad closer until you're standing before him. 

Eddie's body doesn't move aside from a slight shifting of his hands to make room for you between his knees, but his face tilts up to continue watching as you approach, expression unreadable. There's a tension between you which is nearly unnerving as Eddie stares without reaching for you, without smiling, almost without reacting at all. But you don't feel rejected by his stoicism. Instead, you reach out first, running your fingertips over the edge of his cheekbone, feathering lightly down his cheek. When his face lists just slightly into your touch, it emboldens you, and you let your thumb drag against the plump pink of Eddie's bottom lip in a soft caress.

You feel it then— the first reaction you pull from him. It's the subtle pursing of his full lips, the press of a gentle kiss against the pad of your thumb. Poignant longing flutters low inside you; wings quiver along with the green of your leaves. You cup Eddie’s face more fully, and a tremulous sigh falls from your lips when you feel the rasp of his fingertips along the satin at the back of your thighs. His touch is slight, but his rough calluses catch on the fabric, which drags like liquid against your skin before falling as his hands leave your legs to skim your hips. 

After a moment of exploration, his warm palms settle there, and Eddie applies light pressure so you'll step back and give him room to rise. He towers before you, predatory angles softened by the gentleness of his fingers as they feel for the tiny zipper at the back of your dress. Your eyes don't leave his as the fabric slowly parts along your spine down to the small of your back. You peel the thin straps down your arms, helping him remove milk and honey to reveal your bare breasts and the apex of your thighs covered by delicate lace. 

You're content to let the fabric pool around your ankles, but as you step out of it, Eddie picks your dress up for you, laying it across the nearby dresser with a sense of care he never shows his own clothing. A fond smile tilts your lips as you unbutton his shirt, and Eddie helps you undress him down to his checkered boxers.

Eddie's body feels more rigid than usual as he guides you onto the bed. There's an intentness to his actions now as he settles on top of you, a latent power in the coil of his muscles. When your hands run lightly over his shoulders and biceps, you think he seems tense. It makes you wonder if something is bothering him, if maybe he's changed his mind or is thinking about something else. You're frowning a little worriedly by the time Eddie wedges his hand under the nape of your neck, cupping your head firmly; his face hovers over yours as your eyes dart unsurely between his. The hush, the tension remains as his gaze draws slowly over your face until you're nearly squirming with the need to know what he's thinking. The music filling the room is loud and unrelenting, but with Eddie's quiet voice so close to your lips, you hear every word when he finally speaks.

"I need you to know—" your brow pinches at the seriousness of his voice, "—that everything about you is so incredibly beautiful. And I can't get enough of you." 

It steals your breath entirely. And then Eddie's lips capture yours.

You burst with wild flutters, nearly dizzy as your hands clutch his jaw, kissing him desperately back. You pour all of yourself into Eddie as his mouth opens against yours, and you feel his smoke flow down into you, filling you with rich and heady feeling as he holds you close. Seeking tongues, hot breath; needy whimpers fall as you taste each other, writhe against each other's bodies. You press up into his hardness as your legs cradle his hips, and he bears down on you in return, grinding into your softness. He trails scorching kisses down the side of your neck, intent on his path down to your chest. Eddie nips your skin on the way, teeth teasing as you gasp out your pleasure; your breath shudders as he mouths at the swell of your breast. Your fingers seek his curls, tucking in near his scalp as his tongue laves at your pert nipple before his lips close over it. He sucks firmly, eyes flicking to yours to watch as your lips fall open. The warm wet suction of his mouth sparks straight to your pussy, and your hips squirm beneath his weight as you begin to throb between your legs. 

Eddie's hair looks sexy in a ponytail, but you miss the rugged beauty of his dark curls, the way they frame both of your faces when he kisses you, concealing you from the world. Carefully, you guide the elastic band from his hair, letting that wild mass fall free around his shoulders. You bury your fingers in his curls and tug at the root, wanting to make him hum against your breast. And he does— a low, delicious sound that stokes the cinders of your arousal. 

When your hips press up seekingly again, Eddie draws his face slowly back, tugging your hardened nipple with him until it finally pops from his mouth. You gasp again at the feeling, the sound all feminine need, eyes still captured by his heated gaze; a corner of his lips quirks as he switches to your other breast, tongue lashing your flesh until you're flushed, whimpering, hips aching with the desire for him to touch you where you burn for it most. A whispered word, barely more than a breath as it leaves your lips: "Please—"

It's so quiet, your plea, but Eddie seems to hear it. Or maybe he just senses your desperation in how your hips are rolling against him, yearning for friction. Either way, ever so kind, Eddie obliges you.

You feel the rasp of his fingertips against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, low near your knee; the promise of his touch is enough to have you sighing with relief even before he's come close to your heat. You know he'll give you what you want— you know it with the certainty of spring, of new growth and awakening, of wings that emerge from a soft cocoon after a long period of metamorphosis. Sure enough, his hand travels up your leg, kneading the dough of your thigh as you wiggle down lower on the bed so that his face is above yours again. He drapes himself half over you, bracing some of his weight on one forearm. And as his fingers finally rub you over lace, you tilt your chin to join your lips again.

As you kiss him, you relish each detail of the way Eddie's body feels against yours— his warmth enveloping you, his smoke and apples scent in your nose, his belly pressing into yours, expanding with every breath. You drag your calf along the back of his, and you even relish the rasp of his sparse leg hair against your skin, rubbing slowly as you devote your affection to his upper lip. Eddie's kisses are just as intent as before but less frantic now as he pushes lace aside to find the honey at the center of you. You hum, brow pinching in pleasure as his ring and middle fingers sink eagerly into your pussy. 

Eddie takes his time, fingering you thoroughly to ensure you're ready to take him. He repeats his process over and over, patiently working you up: pressing in, stroking, drawing out your slick, and circling your clit before dipping down again. The way Eddie stretches you open is not slow or hesitant, but his attentiveness has you enjoying it all, down to the sting of his fingers as they stretch you. Even then, that sting fades quickly, leaving behind a sweet swell of steadily building pleasure which grows hotter with each shift of his dextrous hand.

You hike your leg a little higher up his hip, nudging your nose against his as you communicate your increasing desire through more sweltering kisses. And the next time Eddie's fingers sink inside you, he keeps them deep. He ruts in, pinky and index jutting against the outside of your slick lips as he works that soft spot on your front wall until you're panting and squirming with want. A small flame is growing low in your belly— a burning need for him to press you to the mattress with his weight, to drive his cock as deep inside you as he can. A whisper of a whine builds in your throat until it comes out in a soft needy noise muffled into his mouth. When he hears it, Eddie breaks your kiss but doesn't retreat far. 

"Eddie," you whimper against his lips, cheeks flushed, brow pinched, voice whiny and nearly pathetic. But you don't feel ashamed of your need when you see the richness of Eddie's brown eyes, how they're burnished to deep amber with his desire for you. 

He husks a quiet question, breath a warm caress against your lips. "Are you ready for me?" 

A thrill pulses through you at the anticipation of his cock inside you, and as you squeeze around his fingers, you watch Eddie's brows jump. There is no hesitation in your answer. 

“Yes,” you tell him. 

He pulls his fingers out, and his hand settles on the wideness of your hip. And when his wet fingers mould into your flesh, you expect him to encourage you down to the mattress so he can lay fully on top of you. But instead, he pulls you in, pulls you closer, tilting your pelvis and pressing his forward so that his hot length is sandwiched between you. His fingers drag to the small of your back, and the way he holds you against him isn't insistent. It's gentle. Tender. 

Eddie asks you another question— inflection the same as the previous, neutral like a second check-in. "You want me?"

Though his voice is no different than it had been, the question gives you pause. And as your eyes flick between his searchingly, you see it— a hint of something approaching defenselessness. Something that, though his irises are still thoroughly amber brown, reminds you of delicate pink. 

You swallow, throat suddenly thick; your body presses instinctually closer as you hold his gaze and answer him. "I want you, Eddie."

And with your quiet assurance, that something behind his eyes shifts. You can feel his voice, thick and heady like smoke, rumble through his chest and into yours. "And I want you, y/n."

The first stretch is always delicious, no matter how much Eddie has fingered you beforehand or how many times you experience it. That moment he presses his blunt head against your entrance and eases in, sliding hard and hot and so thick along your walls… it never fails to leave you quivering with its intensity. It's always incredible, but this time, when Eddie's weight covers you, and you bend your legs, holding him close as he presses steadily deeper until he's seated fully inside, there's something loaded about it. Because the bed you're in— it's motionless aside from the slow rocking of Eddie's hips into yours as he begins to move. It's quiet aside from the hush of Eddie's breath along your cheek, the sound of his little moans muffled against your neck when he buries his face there, moving so slowly inside you like he's savoring the moment. And you're savoring the moment, too, closing your eyes to focus on all the sensations: the whisper of Eddie's curls against your clavicle; his firm musculature under your hands as you run them over the planes of his back; the tender rasp of his calloused fingers as he draws them up your side, caressing your soft skin; the satisfied hum that rumbles against your throat when you move your hips in tandem with his slow, sensual rhythm. For the first time since that very first time— when Eddie went down on you on the big couch— Steve and Chrissy are having sex across the room instead of right beside you. And, frankly, they might as well be on a different planet entirely. Because whatever your boyfriend is doing? It hasn't crossed your mind since the moment you opened the bathroom door and met Eddie's beautiful brown eyes.

The slow drag of Eddie's thickness inside you keeps that small flame flickering, filling you with warmth as you sigh contentedly against his curls. He lifts his head when he hears you, and his hand finds your jaw to tip your head back so he can nibble just underneath your chin. "Mmm—" You drag your teeth against your bottom lip as his mouth sparks heat along your skin. It adds to your burn, and your hips press up into him a little harder, silently encouraging him to move faster.

But Eddie doesn't move faster, though he also doesn't ignore your coaxing; instead, he trails kisses up to the corner of your mouth, murmuring a hair's breadth from your lips when he gets there. "Will you do something for me?" he asks.

Your answer pops out in an automatic sigh. "Anything." 

When you feel the little fond huff from Eddie's nose puff against your skin, your eyes flutter open, and you see those full pink lips pull into a small smile before he kisses you. You lean into it, chin angling to chase him when he pulls away; you’re nearly pouting as he withdraws from your lips. His thumb drags fondly against your jaw, mollifying you as you await his request. You said it— anything— and you meant it, but you aren't expecting what Eddie calmly asks of you as he holds your gaze. 

“Touch yourself.”

You blink, eyes widening as your hips still beneath him in surprise and hesitance. This is the first time Eddie has ever suggested such a thing, and it isn't something you've ever done with Steve, either. You'd always had the impression that guys would think they weren't doing a good enough job getting you off if you did that while having sex with them. You can't help but blurt, "A-are you sure?" You nearly cringe at the tentativeness in your voice.

Eddie doesn't judge you— he never does— but you do read some incredulity in his expression as he strokes back your hair, smoothing his fingers along the strands that fan against the smooth sheets near your ear. "Of course, I'm sure," he replies. "I want you to feel good, sweetheart."

Your hesitance melts away with the earnestness of his reply, replaced by a low flutter as Eddie voices that he wants you to feel good. Of course, you know he does, but it's one thing to know it and quite another to hear him say it with that smoky voice, with his pretty face hovering so close, with his cock hot and hard inside you. You nod, eyes lighting as you see him smile broadly at your approval. "Gimme your hand," he says, and when you offer it to him, he sucks the tip of your index finger between his lips, tongue brushing like a hot flash before he's pulling away. 

Your finger is slick with his spit as you reach between you, and Eddie braces on his forearms, lifting slightly to give you room to wedge your hand down near your heat. You maneuver together into a position that works— Eddie hovering over you, one of your legs hiked up on his hip and the other slack and bent against the mattress as you search for your clit until you find it. The back of your hand nudges against the nest of his dark curls as you begin to press circles into that squishy bead, pleasure sparking with each pass. "That's it," Eddie breathes, and then he's moving again.

The rhythm he resumes is less languid than before, hips rolling in time with your strokes against your clit. You aren’t sure if you're timing your movements with his, or he with yours— it's impossible to tell, but the effect is the same. You rock into him, brow pinching slightly as your head falls to the side, breathy moans falling loosely from your lips as the burn in your belly begins to increase with both of your efforts. He takes your bared throat as an opportunity, and his face fits there against the juncture of your neck as if it's always been meant to. Eddie's nose bobs against your throat as he starts to really fuck into you, hips impacting your thighs faster, harder, with fleshy slaps you can hear over the room's music. And as he does, you can feel the increase of his fervor, the evidence of his pleasure— his breath huffing against your skin, his little rumbling moans, always so vocal, sounds never truly suppressed. And then his fingers are lightly pinching the shell of your ear, drawing down to the lobe in a tender caress seemingly at odds with how he's fucking you.

It makes you flutter with tremulous wings. It makes you melt into a smoldering burn. 

It makes your green quiver and bloom.

Eddie lifts his head to murmur against your cheek. "Does it feel good, pretty girl?"

You breathe in the smoke, pleasure licking higher. "Yes, it's—" you break off in a breathy moan, and Eddie nudges fondly against your cheek with his nose, lips trailing featherlight against your skin. "It's really good," you finish your sentence, voice shakier, huskier with desire.

You bite your lip as Eddie responds to your praise, one hand wedging again under the back of your neck so he can hold you closer, hips moving a little faster now. You find yourself focused on the feeling of his thick cock reaching deep as you adjust to his new pace. And as focused as you are, you don't notice that your hand slows, fingers stalling between your bodies. 

Yet Eddie must notice because his face is now hovering over yours again, expression coaxing. "Keep rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart." Your fingers jolt immediately into action, pressing quick circles into your now-swollen bud, knuckles dragging against the wiry hair near the base of his cock. "That's it, good girl," Eddie husks, warm with approval. You want to keep hearing his voice— you want it just as much as you want him never to stop holding you as close as he is now, moving with you the way he's doing now.

"I like it when you talk to me," you tell him, voice high and needy with feminine hoarseness. His brown eyes burnish further, full pink lips quirking in a tilted grin, and you can't help but smile back when you see the light behind his gaze.

He touches your face, but where you expect the rasp of his callouses, you feel the smooth drag of his nails instead as he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. "I know," Eddie murmurs. "I know you do, sweet girl."

You rub your clit as Eddie fucks you and tells you he knows what you like. "I like talking to you, too," you tell him, pink tongue darting out to swipe at his lips. You want him to know. "You feel so good inside me, Eddie."

He exhales harshly at that, brow twitching up as he stares down at you, gaze locked on your eyes. "Fuck." His voice is deeper, huskier now, and you feel a thrill at his reaction, one that jolts straight down to tighten in your belly. "You look so fuckin' gorgeous takin' my cock. Doin' so well."

Flutter, smolder, burn, bloom. Eddie's praise increases your pleasure, and that quiver inside tightens even further. You want to answer, but all that comes out is a gasp as he thrusts against a spot inside you that makes your toes suddenly curl. "Oh, mmm—" Your voice sounds tight and high, almost unlike you, as you hear it spill involuntarily from your lips.

Eddie is panting now, and your thighs tighten against his hips as you lift both legs, hand pressed tight between your pelvises as your fingers swipe back and forth. "You want it harder?" he asks, sounding determined, if not a little breathless. "You want me to fuck you harder?"

Anything to feel him hit that spot again. "Yes," you moan instantly, "yes, please—" 

He groans as you beg, deepening his thrusts. But he doesn't just fuck you harder. Eddie adjusts you in his grip, and you feel his muscles tense as he leans over on one forearm to hook the other hand behind your knee and pull your leg up higher on his hip. It presses your hand tighter between you, but you don't care— you're rubbing with the flat of your fingers now, your other hand soothing across his flexed bicep, damp with sweat from his effort. He changes the angle of his hips minutely, and his thick length probes inside you as if searching, seeking for something—

A sudden flare of white-hot pleasure makes you gasp sharply; your back arches as your head tips back against the sheets. Eddie stops his searching, holding you firmly as he thrusts again at the same angle, breath huffing in a delighted chuckle when you whimper as pleasure flares bright for a second time. He sounds nearly ragged but entirely pleased when he asks you, "That's it, huh? That's the spot?"

You're so quick to assure him you're nearly babbling. "Yeah, don't— don't stop, please, don't stop, right there—" You hum desperately as he fucks into you again, fast and hard, intent now that he's found that sweet spot that makes you quiver with pleasure. And you are quivering— muscles shaking, heart pounding, breath shuddering as the flame of your arousal catches to a wildfire.

"Fuck yes," Eddie groans, tight with effort but oh, so satisfied. "That's it, sweetheart. I can feel you; you're gonna soak my dick." He's barely pulling out now, nothing more than an inch, just rutting in against that same spot over and over and over— 

Your breath hitches, hiccuping in your chest; tears sting the corners of your eyes as the fire in your belly builds so quickly, tingly and aching and hot. It's that familiar feeling, but far more intense than it's ever been, almost frighteningly so.

"Eddie—?" your soft cry of his name sounds so helpless, wanting but nearly afraid. 

"Hold onto me," he tells you hoarsely; his fingers tighten against the nape of your neck, cupping you supportively. 

You wrap your free arm around his shoulders, clinging to him as he ruts into your wet heat, pounding you evenly despite the harshness of his breath and the trembling of his muscles that reveal his fatigue. But Eddie doesn't relent. He never stops, not when you wrench your other arm from between you to clutch at his shoulders with both hands, not even when you dig your nails into the meat of his back. You no longer care about rubbing your clit as your fire burns impossibly higher, as the pleasure spreads tingly and tight up to your navel. Because you know, with a certainty that you've never felt before having sex, that it doesn't matter whether or not you're touching yourself. You know that Eddie is going to get you there.

You whine pathetically, holding him tightly, following his instruction. "Eddie," you moan all wobbly, betraying the way you're teetering on the edge. "E-Eddie, I'm—" 

You break off in a desperate whimper, that spreading, tingling ache so overwhelming that you can't move, can't think, can't really speak. But you can hear, and Eddie sounds nearly desperate himself as his cheek drags against yours, smoke voice rasping reassurance in your ear. "It's okay— It's okay, y/n, just let go. I've got you—"

“Eddie—!”

You gasp a dry sob and keen his name as you cum.

The feeling that breaks over you as Eddie makes you cum is one you've never experienced before. You've only ever brought yourself to completion with your fingers or a vibrator. You've never orgasmed while having sex with a partner— never been cradled in a full-bodied embrace as the tension snaps inside you, flooding you with sweet, euphoric release that races along your every nerve. You'd float away if Eddie wasn't pinning you to the bed with his reassuring weight, digging his nose into your cheek as he holds you close, panting raggedly in your ear as you go rigid beneath him, pussy pulsing tight around his thick cock. "Holy—" he whimpers, not unaffected as you begin to squirm and writhe with the force of your orgasm, as if your body is unsure whether it wants to escape the intensity of the feeling or crawl closer, begging for it to last forever. And throughout it all, Eddie's hips coax you through, moving slow and tender as your nails dig little half-moons into his skin, as your lips tremble with small choked sounds of pleasure, as that tingling fire rushes hot through your body until it leaves you a melty, quivering mess beneath him, gasping desperate breaths.

As the tension in your limbs finally eases, they slump bonelessly in relief. Your arms remain draped loosely over Eddie's shoulders, and your legs fall open as your pleasure subsides into a lingering warmth. You feel floaty in the best way. Not like before, when you felt you could drift up through the ceiling and be dashed away, untethered from the earth. More like wading into warm sea water, bobbing in gentle waves that swirl your hair soft against your cheeks. Trusting, knowing you'll be kept afloat. At peace.

You feel Eddie's plush lips at the corner of your eye as he turns his head, kissing you softly. And then, as he sighs your name, the movement of Eddie's hips— that steady, even rhythm he'd maintained throughout your orgasm— begins to slow. 

At first, you think maybe he already came, but he's still stiff, still thick and unyielding inside you. A little wrinkle forms between your brows. You ask him softly, "Did you—?"

He stops moving, then. "Not yet," he answers just as softly. No disappointment in his voice— no expectation, nothing but tenderness. You flutter, green quivering as you push your hips into him, drawing him deeper inside you to keep him from retreating. 

Eddie lifts his head, brows tugged up in concern. "You're not too sensitive?"

"No, no, keep going," you answer quickly, thick like honey at his concern. "I want you to cum, too." And to punctuate your point, you bury your fingers in the damp curls at the nape of his neck, cupping his skull with both hands as you pull him to your lips. You encourage him with deep, languid kisses, rolling your hips until he responds. He pushes into you carefully at first, but when you hum, pleased to feel him respond, he gradually increases his pace until he's fucking into you again.

You break from the kiss, panting against his jaw as you tug at his hair to tilt his head back, pulling a grunt from deep in his throat. You nip at his strong jaw, teeth and tongue and lips working at his skin, and he snaps his hips into you in response, flesh smacking again as he fucks you harder, faster. "Mmm—" you moan against his throat, wanting more of his fervor, wanting to give him the same thing he'd given you. You kitten-lick the salt of his neck, scratching at his scalp as you ease your grip on his hair. "Yeah, Eddie, fuck me 'til you cum," you whine quietly against his chin, gratified when he groans deep in his chest.

"Fuck, sweet girl—" He breaks off in a hoarse hum, and you loosen your grip further to let him tip his chin down to look at you. Your eyes rove eagerly over his face, taking him in: plush lips now swollen and flushed deep pink thanks to your kisses; eyes hazy and dark from desire, pupils blown wide, nearly swallowing the brown; pale quartz skin dewy from effort, flushed high on his cheekbones; ink-dark curls sweat-damp and wild and captivating as they stick to his forehead and sway around his face. 

He's beautiful, you realize. Eddie is so beautiful.

"Where should I—?" he asks tightly, and the urgency of the question tells you he's close. "You want me on your stomach? On your tits?"

As soon as he asks, you know what you want.

"No, I—" You duck close and dig your nose into his throat, hesitating. "I wanna…" Though you know with absolute certainty what you want to say, your request sticks on your tongue, clinging stubbornly. 

"Tell me," Eddie encourages you, and you swallow thickly, heart racing as you push the words out in a tremulous whisper.

"I… I wanna feel you again." You will him to understand despite your indirectness. 

It takes a second, but you watch Eddie's eyes go wide, watch his brows flick, watch the way his face slackens with sudden clarity. "You want it—" His adam's apple bobs with a thick swallow before he ducks his head, lips against your ear. There's a pause before he mutters quietly, "I'm not supposed to." 

He sounds halting. Regretful. Like he doesn't want to deny you, sure. But more than that. Because, though you both know what happened last time, Eddie sounds like he wants it, too. Like he wants it just as much as you do.

And you know it's breaking the rules, but frankly, in this moment, all you feel are those fluttering moth's wings and the stretch of your green, the way it's reaching up to twine its first tendrils around your ribs. You don't feel any trepidation, or fear, or oozing guilt. As the green spreads, small white flowers blooming in its wake, the words surge up from the bottom of you.

"I don't care," you hiccup, admission nearly a whimper. "I don't care, just— please, Eddie, I want your cum in me—" 

"Jesus— fuck," Eddie yelps. His hips stutter, losing their even rhythm as his pace turns frenetic. And as you feel his cock twitch inside you, as you feel him start to approach his completion, that poignant yearning wells up in you again, quivering, fluttering with the knowledge of his pleasure, the pleasure you're giving him.

"Eddie," you sigh, tightening one arm around his shoulders and cupping the back of his head with your other hand. You press his face to your hair as he whimpers, panting hot against your skin; you hold him close as his hips rut into you, shuddering a breath as you feel him tense. "Give it to me, Eddie," you whisper, and as Eddie's cock jerks hard, you feel the moment he starts to cum inside you. 

You feel everything.

It isn't like the first time when you were on top. This time, it isn't a surprise when Eddie's hips press tight to yours, when he starts to moan, tight and high, muffling the sound against your sticky neck. It isn't a surprise when you feel the warm flood of his seed fill you. And though you can't see Eddie's face, being able to hold him close while he tenses and shivers with his pleasure is just as good. It's wonderful in a different way.

When his shuddering finally subsides, you wrap your legs around the small of his back, encouraging him to lay on you. And Eddie must be exhausted because he does— he rests fully on you, letting you hold him as his heart beats wildly against your breast. He just lays there and breathes, great panting breaths of exertion and release that puff warm against your skin. It's hot, and damp, and you're sticking to him everywhere, but you couldn't care less. You run your hands softly over the planes of his back, humming when you feel him nuzzle you with his nose. You continue caressing him slowly as he recovers his energy, still buried inside you. As the moment stretches on, you find yourself wishing you could exist here forever— here, in this place where you're holding Eddie, and he's holding you, languid and spent, entirely at peace from the pleasure you've given each other.

Eventually, Eddie shifts on top of you, and you feel a flash of dismay that he's about to get off you. But he's just propping himself up on an elbow to hover over you again. You feel his thumb stroke featherlight along your cheekbone, and your eyes go soft at how Eddie kisses you so carefully. You melt into his kiss, into the light caress of his calloused fingers against your cheek and jaw as he smoothes your hair against the sheets again. 

When he breaks the kiss, Eddie's brown eyes dart between yours. "Was that good for you?" He asks, and the earnestness in his voice, in his face… 

You didn't know you could flutter and bloom more than you already have, but here you are.

"Yeah," you reply, voice tiny and nearly cracked with the strength of your emotion. "Yeah, so good, Eddie. Thank you." And all of a sudden, the sting at the corner of your eyes returns so insistently that before you know it, the first tear has fallen. 

Your bottom lip quivers as you blink, another tear quickly following. Your brow crinkles with confusion, self-consciousness already beginning to tighten in your sternum. "I-I'm sorry," you stammer, shoulders pulling up towards your ears as Eddie watches you with those dark eyes. "I don't know why I'm crying—"

But Eddie shakes his head, smiling tenderly down at you. "Don't be sorry, y/n," he murmurs, smoke voice rich and heady and soothing as he repeats your words from the club back to him— what you'd told him when he apologized for breaking the first rule with you that night. 

Don't be sorry. Don't be ashamed.

Those dark eyes are shining, bright with light that radiates from within him. There's a gentleness there, a gentleness that spreads over the tops of his cheeks. That hint of pink on black and white. And you don't know why you're crying, but you know you're not sad; and when you realize that Eddie knows it too, your self-consciousness eases, and you just relax and let your tears fall.

Eddie doesn't try to quiet you or tell you to stop. He doesn't tell you that you're okay and you don't need to cry. Instead, he wipes your tears patiently with calloused thumbs. He presses tender kisses to your lips and your wet cheeks. Eddie holds you as you cry. And as he does, your leaves soak in his light, roots coveting his rich charcoal. Your petals spread, opening their faces, unafraid of being perceived. And there's something more. As the tendrils anchor around your ribs, vining snug against that supportive trellis, small fruit begins to appear— tiny bunches of green, immature and firm, sprouting abundantly along your growth.

As your tears subside, you sniffle and cup Eddie's cheek, leaning up for a firm kiss. You pour into it, hoping it can convey some of the tenderness you feel for him. Because you want him to know. You want Eddie to know how much you—

The bed across the room creaks loudly then, and you startle, breaking from Eddie's lips as you realize the R&B music must have ended some time ago. The sound of a bed creaking— a bed that isn't the one you're laying on— sends you crashing back into reality. It strikes you suddenly where you are: in a hotel room in Miami, Florida, on vacation with your boyfriend, Steve, your friend, Chrissy, and your friend's boyfriend, Eddie, with whom you've just had the best sex of your life. 

On some level, you can admit to yourself that it's not shocking the best sex you've ever had was with Eddie. But what is shocking is that you'd been so caught up in being with him that you'd entirely forgotten that Steve and Chrissy had been across the room the entire time, just a half-dozen feet away.

You're suddenly aware of them again, but your eyes haven't left Eddie's. And though he hasn't looked away either, you can see in the way he blinks and his vision seems to flicker that he's just gained the same awareness. He's still half-hard inside you, but his stiffness is flagging now; carefully, Eddie pulls out, saying quickly, "Wait there, I'll get you a towel." 

You nod, and before he gets up, you feel his thumb drag fondly against your cheek one last time— a hasty little swipe, like he couldn't help but steal one more touch before he leaves you. You bend your legs, angling your hips to try to keep his cum from staining the sheets. You press the back of your hands against your warm cheeks, taking a slow breath and letting it out, gazing at the blank ceiling as you wait for Eddie to return. You hear his footsteps hastening out of the bathroom, heading for the side of your bed, but they halt when a crisp voice cuts suddenly through the silence.

"I got it," the voice says, smooth and even. "She needs you."

 You lift your head, eyes darting to the two men near the foot of your bed. Both are naked. One is pale and hesitant as his gaze flicks restlessly between everyone else in the room. The other is tan, arms crossed as he stands between your bed and his friend. You watch Eddie swallow as his eyes meet Steve's even stare, and then he's moving toward the other bed, away from you. Steve watches him go, and you glance over at Eddie's destination to see Chrissy lounging against the rumpled sheets, waves of silky blonde hair splayed against her pillow, a dainty hand cupped against her lower stomach to prevent Steve's release from spilling before it can be cleared away. 

You register a presence near your feet, eyes catching on hazel and touseled waves as Steve stares down at you impassively. With instant clarity, you can see yourself through his eyes— the juncture of your thighs sticky with Eddie's warm cum, your eyes wet with tears, your cheeks slowly flushing with the evidence of your thick, oozing guilt. And you feel something else: the thrum of deep shame, prickling like thousands of tiny needles, racing through your veins in time with your heart.

Suddenly, you can't breathe.

You have enough presence of mind to cup a hand over yourself to contain the mess as you scramble from the bed, dismounting near the sliding glass door opposite where Steve is standing. It brings you closer to your open suitcase— a small blessing, as you snatch an oversized t-shirt with your unoccupied hand before making a hasty retreat into the safety of the bathroom again. 

You suck in a shaky breath, heart stuttering in your chest as you puff your cheeks and let it out slowly, leaning against the light wood of the closed bathroom door. Guilt, shame, trepidation— they all resurge stronger than ever as you realize what you and Eddie have done. 

You'd broken the rules again, and this time, it hadn't been an accident. You'd chosen it. You'd wanted it. In the heat of the moment, you hadn't cared about the consequences, but now, as you wad up toilet paper and yank it from the roll, you feel the prickle of hot shame racing as you wipe the evidence of your betrayal from between your legs. You drop the ruined tissue into the toilet, yanking and wiping and yanking and wiping as if your guilt is a physical stain, and if you rub yourself raw, you can cleanse it from your flesh.

But your guilt is inside you, and so is your shame. Hot, prickling, thick, and oozy, shame and guilt coat your stomach, making you feel nearly ill as you consider your selfishness. You think of Steve's impassive face, knowing instinctively that it must have been a mask concealing how he truly felt. You think of what Chrissy will feel when she realizes that Eddie has cum inside you again, heart skipping and thudding at the sudden, horrifying thought that she may have overheard you asking for it. That she or Steve might know how much you wanted it. 

How much you loved it.

Hot tears leak from your eyes, and you wipe them away silently as you flush the evidence of your betrayal. You're still swiping them from your blurred vision as you watch the water swirl.

You're dreading emerging from this oasis with its light wood cabinets and its marblesque tiles even more now than you were earlier tonight. You delay it as long as possible— pulling on your oversized t-shirt, washing your makeup away, brushing your teeth, wishing you had thought to grab a pair of underwear, though at least the shirt covers your ass with a couple of inches to spare. You feel exposed and vulnerable, and you know it has everything to do with the thought of facing Steve when you get out of here. You don't want to endure his reaction but feel selfish for even thinking that. However he responds to what I've done is what I deserve, and I need to accept that.

The bathroom door creaks open into peaceful silence. You peek carefully through the crack, eyeing Steve where he's reclining against the pillows lining the headboard, the side of his face illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp as he scrolls on his phone. As you emerge from the bathroom with tentative steps, Chrissy's hand finds the thin wood of the door, and you startle, nearly jumping as she appears suddenly in front of you.

"Done in there?" Her blue eyes are shiny and bright, and her voice sounds just as perky as it always does. 

"Uh…" Your gaze darts from her to Eddie, who's hovering just behind her, brown eyes wide, full mouth pressed into a long line of bemusement as he stares back at you. "Um, yeah," you say, trying to fix your face into a neutral expression, though you fear it's probably all creased up with guilt and shame.

Chrissy doesn't seem to notice. "'Kay!" she says, flashing a bright grin at you as you sidestep so she can shimmy by you into the bathroom. When Eddie merely stands there, hands hanging limply at his sides as he stares at you, she glances back. "C'mon, Eddie," Chrissy says with a little playful whine, fingers closing around his wrist. "I'm cold, and I wanna go to bed!" 

He moves forward to follow her almost automatically, and you watch him until the door clicks softly shut, separating you. 

You blink at the white door until you hear a rustle break the hush. It's Steve, folding back the now-straightened sheets on your bed like an invitation. When you stare at him without moving, he glances up at you through his mussed bangs as he pats the mattress. No way to misconstrue that— it is undoubtedly an invitation for you to get in bed with him. And what's more, Steve doesn't appear angry or upset at all. In fact, he's currently shooting you a lopsided grin.

It feels like the fucking Twilight Zone.

Is it possible that Steve and Chrissy haven't fully realized what happened between you and Eddie? That they'd been so caught up in their own pleasure that the tension, the intimacy, the first real orgasm you’ve ever had with a partner had gone entirely unnoticed? It's nearly unbelievable. In fact, it is unbelievable. But the evidence to the contrary— Chrissy's usual powdery-soft smile and Steve's usual easy grin— cannot be ignored.

You're reeling, but amid your utter bafflement, you have enough presence of mind to realize that acting strange is not going to do you any favors and will only make the situation— whatever the situation is— worse. So you walk forward, slipping under the covers and turning as you feel Steve immediately click out the bedside light and shimmy over to spoon you. You force yourself to relax as his firm arms wrap around you, and his alkaline nose tucks against the juncture of your neck. You let Steve hold you— let him press his torso along your spine and fit his legs into the crook made by your bent legs, the entire length of his body snug against yours. He sighs deeply, a loud breathy sound of contentment that ruffles the hair at the nape of your neck. 

"Shit," Steve says, and his crisp voice washes over you like a cool wave. "That was fun." 

You've started to adapt to this situation, and that allows you to answer him the way you do. "Good," you say, and your voice is even and warm. "I'm glad you had fun."

Steve presses a chaste kiss to the side of your neck before settling his head back against his pillow. And you realize, as you stare at the empty bed across the room, that what you'd told him— that you're glad Steve had fun with Chrissy— is the truth. That you've reached the point where you really don't mind that your boyfriend fucked someone else tonight. 

That, if you're brutally honest with yourself, you no longer care that Steve is fucking Chrissy at all.

And that should scare you. But despite this realization, the warmth of Steve's body coupled with the exhaustion of the day— both emotional and physical— has your lashes already fluttering with the effort it takes to resist the allure of sleep. You barely twitch as the bathroom door opens, and Eddie and Chrissy climb into their own bed.

And as you succumb to the promise of slumber, soft like a velvet shroud as it covers you until you sink down into unconsciousness, the last thing you see is the image of Chrissy's lithe arms wrapped like a vice around Eddie's back, her dainty fingers pressing into his pale quartz skin. You watch her nails grow, sharpening to points until they're pricking him. They begin to pierce through his flesh as she clutches him so tightly. And you think he must be in such pain; he must be shouting, but you don't hear a sound. You watch as wells of deep red blood flow from his wounds and seep into the sheets, staining them with a gash of crimson that will never wash away.

You don't actually see any of that. As it turns out, you're already asleep.

–

Butterflies live their lives basking in the sun. Moths don’t; they exist in the dark, lives illuminated only by the moon, that indirect refraction of true sun. So whenever they steal a glimpse of the light, they’re drawn to it. Recklessly, they chase it, fluttering around that brightness, unafraid or unaware of the consequences. And because they don’t see it all the time, they yearn for it in a way that butterflies never do.

Even if it destroys them.

–

Approximately twenty-six hours ago, you'd imagined yourself sitting on the hotel balcony, having a leisurely cup of morning coffee to revive you after a long night of partying at the club with your friends and boyfriend. Instead, you find yourself digging in your suitcase, searching for an athleisure outfit so you can accompany Chrissy to the spa.

As you'd awakened to light streaming through the gauzy curtains, eyes blinking open to the sight of dark curls gleaming in the shafts of brightness and Eddie's pale quartz back rising and falling with even breaths, the presence of Chrissy's dainty hand splayed across his spine had conjured a small shiver. But when you'd grasped for it, the reason for your unease slipped from your consciousness like a drop of ink or blood diffusing into water. You quickly attributed the feeling to your actions the previous night, to the vestiges of guilt and shame that still ticked at the edge of your senses despite the conspicuous lack of conflict and a good night's rest. You'd been preparing for the fallout as you sat up in bed, drawing restless fingers through your hair and rubbing the remnants of slumber from your eyes. But when Chrissy awoke, blue eyes bright and smile soft as she pulled herself cross-legged on the other side of Eddie and whisper-shouted to you her proposal for how to spend the morning before your return flight, you finally allowed yourself to accept that maybe things were okay after all.

As you search for an outfit, you're careful not to disturb Steve. He's still stretched out against the sheets, hair adorably disheveled, nose whistling slightly with each inhale. You watch him sleep for a moment, but when it conjures a whisper of feeling you don't want to confront right now, you redouble your efforts to find an outfit. Soon, you're adorned in a loose cropped t-shirt, high-waisted bike shorts, and flip-flops. After a quick visit to the bathroom to brush your teeth and fix your hair, the slight jangle of keys near the door tells you Chrissy is ready and waiting. You emerge to find her in a skin-tight black romper, topped with a loose button-up tied chicly at the waist to show off her athletic legs. Together, the pair of you set out for a morning filled with the promise of relaxation and revival.

The day spa Chrissy has chosen called Ciel reminds you of the bathroom in your hotel. It's all clean lines and light wood, crisp and pristine but scattered with lush greenery that echoes the tropical foliage outdoors. Trying to balance treating yourselves but also sticking to a budget, you and Chrissy had agreed to two spa activities, which would have you back to the hotel by ten o'clock to pack and eat a quick brunch with the guys before your one o'clock flight. 

It smells of rich aromatherapy oil in the massage room where you're lying face-down on the table, face wedged in the opening, with nothing but a thin towel to preserve your modesty. You'd think that after having sex with three people at once, you'd be a little more comfortable with your own nudity. Yet you find yourself having to resist the sudden spike of self-consciousness that pierces you when you hear the door creak open underneath the ambient music and flowing water sounds. Still, Chrissy's presence on the table beside yours is soothing, and as the massage progresses, you find the precise and clinical rubbing does exactly what it's supposed to. It's like the masseuse's fingers are wringing all the tension from your body. As the hot stones rest heavily against your back, they release the ooze of your guilt and shame until you emerge from the room feeling cleansed.

After your massage, you suck down cold water as instructed, Chrissy at your side as you wait for your second activity: manicures. She sighs contentedly, porcelain skin shining pink and healthy from the heat, eyes sparkling even brighter. "That was so nice," she says. "I totally needed that."

"Yeah, me too," you say, exchanging a warm smile with her. "So, how was it dancing on stage last night?"

"Oh, my God, y/n, it was so cool!" she gushes, clasping your forearm as she starts to tell you all about it. And as you listen to Chrissy talk— as she shakes your arm around in her enthusiasm, and you fawn over her on-stage escapades, any lingering trepidation you felt at the thought of Chrissy being angry with you finally melts away. We're okay, you think, feeling a surge of fondness for Chrissy as you squeeze her fingers, and she smiles that soft charming smile that reveals her slightly crooked teeth.

An attendant guides you to the wall of nail colors, and you and Chrissy make your selections. You opt for squared tips and a pretty dove gray color. After some deliberation, Chrissy decides to get acrylics— not too long, but pointed, painted a bright siren red. Her acrylics will take longer than yours, but you don't mind; you've budgeted enough time for the indulgence, and the whole point of this trip is to relax and take it easy. No need to rush.

You sit side-by-side with Chrissy in the salon chair, resting your fingers lightly on the table as you wait for your nail technician to join you. She is an older woman with kindly-wrinkled eyes and shockingly smooth hands for her age. You greet her, and she returns your 'hello' with a smile, getting straight down to business by wiping off your bare nails with polish remover to ensure they're ready to be painted. Chrissy's technician comes second, flouncing into her seat across from your friend. She's younger, probably about your age, with a massive black bun piled atop her head to reveal an undercut. 

"What's up?" she greets Chrissy, who smiles broadly. "We doing acrylics?"

"Yup," Chrissy answers, wiggling her fingers sassily. "You like?"

The technician slants a grin at her. "Hell yeah," she replies, earning one of Chrissy's giggles as she positions her hands atop the towel to begin working.

Your technician eyes her colleague with an air of motherly long-suffering but doesn't comment as she works. Despite the casualness of Chrissy's technician, which may, you suppose, bother some customers, you eagerly welcome the conversation that flows between you three. You learn that her name is Crystal, which you all have a bit of a laugh over as it sounds so close to Chrissy. Crystal's constant chatterboxing doesn't interfere with her ability to work; she seamlessly gossips with you while preparing Chrissy's nails with practiced ease. And your technician doesn't seem to mind being excluded from the conversation, appearing content to work in patient silence while manipulating your limp fingers as your eyes dart from Chrissy to Crystal and back again.

Eventually, as Crystal's most recent story subsides, Chrissy glances at you. And you can tell, as her blonde brows crinkle up and her teeth bite down on her lip to contain a smile, that she wants to say something.

"What?" you say, playfully bald, narrowing your eyes with faux suspicion. "What is it? Spit it out, Chris."

She purses her lips, glancing between you and Crystal as she speaks, sweet and powdery soft in her hesitance. "Well… I've been dying to tell you this, y/n. It's kind of why I wanted to do this without the guys. We're on vacation with our boyfriends," she explains to Crystal, who nods, looking intrigued.

You're also intrigued by the sparkle in Chrissy's eye and the sudden light flush on her cheeks. You can tell it's good news and that it must be something big. Your face goes slack, eyes wide with excitement, thinking that it might be about her yoga studio— the reason she's been taking all those night classes, working so hard. Is she done with her degree? Had she found a good deal on a location? You itch to reach for her, but you can't move your hands; you settle for expressing your eagerness through your face and voice. "What is it, babe?" you ask, warm and buoyant with rising glee as her smile breaks free, lighting her face so radiantly.

"I think Eddie's gonna propose to me!"

Crystal squeals, Chrissy giggles, and your face is still fixed in a bright, eager smile.

"Holy shit!" Crystal exclaims, leaning in, ignoring the pointed look your technician shoots her way.

"I know," Chrissy sighs, feet tip-tapping on the floor like she needs an outlet for her overwhelming giddiness. "I'm so excited. I mean, we were gonna wait until after I finished my classes and got my degree, but we've been dating for, like, five years now, so what's the point in delaying, you know?" She looks from Crystal to you as if seeking your approval. You tighten the sagging corners of your smile, cheeks already aching as you nod quickly. You don't trust yourself to speak. Thankfully, her eyes bounce back and forth between you and Crystal, continuing eagerly without seeking more of a response.

And as Chrissy tells you all the reasons she thinks Eddie is going to propose to her, a feeling like mortification slides hot down the back of your neck to the base of your spine. It's like mortification but heavier, thicker. More asphixiating. Like your friend had shoved a pillow over your face, and each rationale she gives for Eddie's imminent proposal presses it down harder and harder against your nose and lips until your chest heaves, fruitlessly sucking in fabric instead of air. 

"We've been living together for a few months now," she's telling you and Crystal, "and it's been amazing. Like, I heard the transition can be kind of hard at first, moving in with someone, but it was so seamless. I was shocked! And it's so nice to come home to him every day. Well, you know," she chuckles, slanting a friendly, knowing look toward you. "You live with Steve, so you get it."

"All right, what's the best part?" Crystal asks conversationally, filing the acrylic of Chrissy's ring finger to a precise point.

"Hmm…" Chrissy bobs her head back and forth, pursing her lips as she thinks. "Probably sleeping with him." It takes every ounce of willpower you possess not to react.

Crystal guffaws. "Girl—"

Chrissy cuts her off. "No, no! Not like that," she clarifies with a charming giggle. "Eddie's like my personal heater. I'm always so cold, and he keeps me warm every night. And he's so attentive. Even when he's worked a really long shift and comes home super tired, he always wants to cuddle. He's really affectionate. And he's so reliable. I know he'd do anything for me." 

You're still smiling, but you can't breathe.

"Aw," Crystal coos, brows tugging up in a simpering expression of admiration. "I'm happy for you, girl."

  "Thank you," Chrissy replies, letting her head fall back as her eyes take on this far-away, dreamy look. You watch her as she hums contentedly before saying musingly, "Yeah. We'll get married, then I'll open the studio. And I think in a year or two, that'll probably be the right time to start trying." She slants a glance at you and Crystal, smiling conspiratorially as she shrugs. "Or sooner. You never know." She giggles and Crystal huffs amusedly through her nose. "Not sure I wanna wait that long to have my first baby."

There is no pillow; instead, Chrissy has sucked all the air from the room. Your lungs begin to ache.

"Honey," your technician says, all kind and quiet as your eyes dart to hers for the first time in a long while. She smiles reassuringly. "You're a little shaky. Did you eat this morning?"

You look down. She has your pinky in her grip, brush poised with dove gray polish above your nail. She's right. Your hands are trembling.

"N-no." You push the words out, voice creaky with disuse, so quiet that you aren't sure if she's heard you. You flex your fingers, jaw clenching as you focus on trying to keep them still. When she doesn't resume her painting, you glance up at her again. "I'm okay," you add, and when she nods, you turn your eyes back to your fingers, thinking of nothing but holding still and breathing evenly. Inhale slowly. Hold for three seconds. Out slowly. Wait for five. Repeat. Your fingers hold steady, and she manages to finish painting one hand before Chrissy addresses you directly.

"What do you think, y/n? Do you think they could be blue?"

You swallow against the lump that rises in your throat. "Hm?" You make a little questioning sound as you glance at your friend, looking into her face framed by supple strawberry-blonde waves, her bright blue eyes, her pink bow lips, her porcelain skin so radiant and beautiful.

"I was saying that I hope our baby has blue eyes, but Crystal said that brown eyes are, like, a dominant trait. So since Eddie has brown, he probably wouldn't."

"I mean, I wouldn't say I'm an authority," Crystal hedges, looking to you for your response.

You want to say, Chrissy, the thought of you having Eddie's baby makes me feel like I'm suffocating.

Instead, you squeeze out one single word. "He?"

"Oh, yeah." Chrissy looks a little sheepish, smiling softly as her shoulders squish up near her ears. "I kind of always say 'he' because I really want a boy. But Eddie wants a girl. I mean, honestly, I guess it doesn't matter what we have." Her face fills up with adoring affection. "He would be such an amazing girl dad. She'd be his little princess."

You'd do anything, give anything, not to hear another word. 

The realization shifts something in you. It allows you to claw at the pillow Chrissy's inadvertently holding to your face, wrench it from your nose and mouth, and shred it until feathers rain around you in a cloud of soft down. By sheer force of will, you bury your emotions beneath the dark earth at the bottom of you until you can't feel them anymore.

"I think there's a chance the baby would have blue eyes," you say, straightening your spine, face perfectly pleasant. "It's not likely, but there's always a chance."

–

When Steve first proposed carpooling with Chrissy and Eddie to the airport, it seemed like a great idea. Now, it's agony.

When you'd returned to the hotel, Chrissy had asked the guys what they'd been up to while you were gone. "Oh, we just hung out," Steve replied easily, shooting her a lopsided grin as he wrapped his arm around you in greeting, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. Steve had acted entirely normal throughout your packing process, but you couldn't help but feel that Eddie seemed a little… off. 

You didn't look at him often. Despite how you'd pushed your emotions down at the spa, it seemed the effect had been only temporary since the sight of Eddie's black and white caused you to ache deeply somewhere behind your ribs. Still, after so many evenings in his company, even the most fleeting glimpses of his brown eyes and pale face revealed a dullness that was obvious to you. He seemed harrowed. But he also seemed to be avoiding your gaze just as much as you were avoiding his, so you pushed your questions aside and focused your attention on returning home to normalcy.

You're sitting in the passenger seat of Steve's maroon BMW. He's driving with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lightly against the gearshift. In the back seat, Chrissy has opted for the middle spot, pressing close to her boyfriend as he leans tiredly against the car door. You're all pretty worn out from the flight, sitting in the quiet wooshing of the highway as you think dully about the Monday morning of work you'll be facing tomorrow. You're already planning on taking a long hot shower, wrapping yourself in your coziest pajamas, and gorging on pizza and some indulgent Netflix show to unwind before bed. You can't wait until you and Steve drop Chrissy and Eddie off. Chrissy seems to share your sentiment.

"I can't wait 'til we get home." Chrissy is murmuring quietly, but in the hush of the car, you can hear her just fine. It's the first time someone has broken the silence the whole car ride, and you find yourself glancing automatically back to see Chrissy's hand high on Eddie's thigh as she crosses her legs toward him, cocking her head. "I'm gonna get you right in the shower, big boy."

You hear Eddie huff a brief chuckle, and you swallow to wet your suddenly dry throat. You swell with foreboding; dread sinks heavy in your stomach as a brief flash of that hot mortification echoes inside you again.

"What do you wanna do to me tonight?" Chrissy murmurs, voice pitched low and sultry, still quiet but horribly clear. Please, no. Don't make me listen to this, you beg silently, eyes flicking toward the side window as you curl up on yourself in preparation.

Chrissy continues talking. "Do you wanna try fucking my face again? That was fun last time."

There's an extended pause and then Eddie's answer. "If you want." You feel some vindictive relief at the impassiveness of his voice. Hot, prickly shame rushes in to follow, and you rest your chin on your palm, leaning your temple against the cool glass of the window. You don't want to listen, but after Eddie's response, you can't deny that a small part of you is hoping to hear that lack of enthusiasm from him continue. You may not want to listen, but your ears are honed on the back seat now, attentive to each little sound and shift in tone.

Chrissy's voice is suddenly lower, more seductively teasing. "You know I love it when you get me all sloppy."

You don't dare to look; you keep perfectly still, waiting for Eddie's response. And you hear a subtle shifting of fabric, like one of them is moving to touch the other or fidgeting with their hands. Maybe Eddie is twisting his rings in that nervous habit of his. 

Again, it heartens you, his lackluster response. And you know it's wrong to take pleasure in it, but you can't help yourself. Later, you can chastise yourself for your selfishness. Now, you're grasping it like a lifeline. You're reaching for anything that can relieve the oppressive suffocation you'd experienced in the nail salon. Because you know that ache can't be suppressed forever. You know it will return, and you'll latch on to anything that may alleviate at least some of it.

You hear Chrissy giggle suddenly. "Or…" She sounds even foxier now. "You could always…" She trails off pointedly, and you can hear the smile in her voice. You know what Eddie will do; it's clear what Chrissy wants.

"What?" he asks, obliging her.

"You know…" she murmurs, husky and low. There's a rustle and then the barest suggestion of words, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. You realize she must be whispering in Eddie's ear.

His sudden shocked huff nearly startles you; you hear the slight wet sound of him swallowing thickly. "Would you like that?" Chrissy asks, all smug and low with knowing pleasure.

Eddie chuckles disbelievingly. That smoke voice rasps low. "What kind of question is that? 'Would you like that?' Of course, I'd fuckin' like that—" 

The slight relief twists violently into pain behind your ribs; the ache resurges, throbbing as you begin to suffocate again.

 With trembling fingertips painted dove gray, you switch on the radio.

–

It's one o'clock in the morning, and your pain has finally subsided into hollowness. You'd worn your mask for the remainder of the day. You'd worn it while dropping Chrissy and Eddie off at their apartment. You'd worn it during the ride back to yours, where you wrote down all the groceries you needed for the week in your Notes app to be picked up after work tomorrow. You'd worn it while showering, while changing into your pajamas, while relaxing on the couch watching an indulgent Netflix show with your feet in Steve's lap. And now, Steve is asleep, so you no longer need to maintain your mask. It's somewhat of a relief, but it can't compensate for the whiplash of events that occurred on this vacation. On some level, you feel like everything has changed. But laying here, empty and hollow, you realize that, in reality, nothing has. 

You hope your hollowness persists. Maybe, with hollowness in place of the ache, you can put this weekend behind you and pick back up right where you left off before you'd gone on this vacation.

The phone buzzes.

You blink, staring at the bright screen of your phone on your bedside table for a long moment, long enough for it to go black again. You know who the message is from because only one person texts you this late in the evening. You consider leaving it for tomorrow morning and just going to sleep instead. You're certainly tired enough.

You drag the phone underneath the covers with you. 

You open the message, which includes a small block of text and, curiously, an mp3 file rather than a Spotify link. You dully pull out your earbuds automatically, fitting them in your ears before you read the message.

Eddie has written, 'Been working on this one for a while now. Finally finished recording it right before our trip and wanted to share it with you. Let me know what you think.'

Your heart stutters and thumps, and the feeling is not entirely pleasant. As you stare at the file waiting to be opened and played, you waver with indecision. You've never hesitated to listen to one of the songs Eddie has shared with you. But then, you'd never before broken the rules by kissing him. And he'd never before made you orgasm. And you've never before sat in a nail salon, listening to his girlfriend talk about becoming his wife and having his children.

In the end, what finally persuades you to make your decision is not any of those things. It's the memory of Eddie's bouncing knee, of his white knuckles as he glared at the sea, grappling with your kind words. Struggling to accept that you'd listened to his regret and shame and countered with all the parts of him you cherish.

As soon as you hear it, you pause on the chorus, stunned by Eddie's voice, how it's gritty and cracking with the force of his growl. ' Placed inside, safe and sound. Shades of colors are all I see. ' You listen to it once and then immediately play it again and again. You're fixated on it— the way Eddie sings about being 'safe and sound.' The way his voice sounds so raw. An odd image comes to you: a man's pale back pricked by sharp nails, flowing crimson onto sheets. It makes no sense, but it also makes you ill, so you push the image away and hit replay.

You listen to the song again and think about how Chrissy said she wants to have a boy, but Eddie wants a girl. It suddenly becomes so obvious: how they've discussed getting married and having kids, and you don't even know when Eddie's birthday is. You're thinking about how you've never been to their apartment. You're wondering what their apartment looks like. What their bed looks like. And then you're thinking about how Eddie keeps Chrissy warm in it every night. And once you think that, you can't stop the questions that tumble one after another.

Does he touch her like he touches you? 

Does he fuck her like he fucks you? 

Does he moan against her neck when he cums inside her? 

Does he hold her while she cries?

Does he steal one last touch before he leaves the bed to wash up? 

Does she get to see the gentleness in his eyes? Does that gentleness spread over his whole face? You know that it can. Your knowledge comes deep from the bottom of you, where your green sprouts forth. Does Eddie's gentleness spread for Chrissy that way? The way you've never gotten to see it?

The suffocating ache wells up. It leaks silently from your eyes. It's all too much. You feel too much. 

For the first time, you don't answer Eddie's message.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1970 Pontiac Formula 400

1970 Pontiac Formula 400 – The Other Performance Firebird

The story behind the development of GM’s F-body ponycars has been well documented. When Ford’s groundbreaking Mustang debuted in 1964, it tapped an emerging youth market that was hungry for a new type of car geared specifically to them. GM misjudged the public’s response to the Mustang and then scrambled to develop a similar style car after witnessing Ford’s unprecedented first model year sales success. Chevrolet was the lead division in engineering the F-body, and Pontiac grudgingly accepted the platform for their use in March 1966, only after GM management turned down PMD General Manager John DeLorean’s proposal for his own Mustang fighter.

Pontiac didn’t have much time to transform the Firebird from its Camaro configuration before releasing it in February 1967. Their design and engineering lead time was significantly reduced and consequently, the Firebird was forced to use quite a bit of Camaro sheetmetal and other components. Competition between Pontiac and Chevrolet was intense, and having to use the other division’s engineering and design was a bitter pill for DeLorean’s maverick staff to swallow.

The circumstances surrounding the second generation Firebird were another story. Pontiac actually began working on their second generation just as the first Firebirds were hitting dealer showrooms. From design to engineering, Pontiac dominated the divisional rivalry, and this time around the Firebird would be all Pontiac from roof to road. There was little carried over to the second generation with the exception of the Trans Am nameplate and basic engine configurations. The suspension was tuned for more responsive handling with little compromise to ride comfort. Computer aided engineering chose the proper front and rear spring deflection rates predicated on model and usage. Stabilizer bars were used front and rear and the steering box was mounted ahead of the front axle for better response.

The sexy new body was rooted in GM styling chief Bill Mitchell’s infatuation with Italian sports car design. GM chose heavily from the rounded shapes of Ferrari and Maserati, and it showed in the smooth flow of fender lines, the curved window glass and raked windshield. One remarkable difference from pervious GM designs was the lack of a quarter window. Instead, the doors were lengthened to take up a larger portion of the quarter. The massive doors were heavy, however the side appearance was cleaner and far sportier. A lift bar door handle added to the smooth side look. Chrome was distinctively absent. The Native American-inspired Firebird emblem was on the decklid and the nose of all but base model cars.

Up front, the twin nostril grille and single headlamps provided a clean appearance, thanks to the use of Endura to create a bumper-less front end with a valance that cleanly rolled beneath the grille with large cross hair parking lamps mounted in the lower corners of the valance. At the rear, the smooth tumble home enhanced the Firebirds fuselage shape. The tail was flat and filled with twin tail lamps that met the quarter panel’s round rear profile. A recessed tag housing, thin blade chrome rear bumper, and rounded lower valance completed the rear end’s clean look.

Inside, the Firebird’s wide, expansive dash housed the instrument panel consisting of three center nacelles for gauges, with smaller gauges at the right and room for the heater controls and additional switches and knobs. Directly below the center of the dash was another stack that contained the radio and ashtray. Even the base interior was sumptuous, with Pontiac’s indestructible Morrokide vinyl upholstery covering the bucket seats and door panels. The quarter trim panels and headliner were composed of molded polymeric material that provided a smooth surface and absorbed sound.

The 1970 Pontiac line up was composed of the base Firebird with 250 cid six, the mid range, 350 cid Espirit, the 400 cid Formula 400, and the 400 cid Ram Air Trans Am. Of the four, perhaps the most intriguing was the Formula 400. While the Trans Am was loaded with visuals like a shaker hood, fender mounted air extractors, wild front air spoiler, rear wheel opening air spoilers, and wide center stripe, the Formula had none of these. For those who preferred to have a muscular pony car sans the exterior adornments, the Formula 400 was just the ticket. Outside, the only difference between the mild mannered Espirit and the Formula was a special fiberglass hood that sported a pair of front reaching hood scoops (first considered for the Trans Am), sport style dual outside mirrors, and a pair of Formula 400 scripts below the Firebird nameplate on the fenders.

Under the sheetmetal, however, is where the $3,440 Formula’s credentials lay. Standard engine was the 400 cid V8 which generated 330 horsepower @ 4800rpm and 430 lbs.-ft. torque @ 3000rpm. Car & Driver tested a Formula 400 with this engine and automatic transmission and recorded a 0-60 acceleration time of 6.4 seconds and quarter mile performance of 14.7 seconds at 98.9mph.

The optional engine was the Ram Air III V8, which produced 345 horsepower @ 5000rpm and 430 lbs.-ft. torque @ 3400rpm, thanks in part to a higher compression and a more aggressive camshaft profile. While Pontiac offered a 370 horsepower Ram Air IV, it never found its way into a Formula 400. On the Ram Air III equipped Formulas, the hood scoops were opened and a pair of rubber “boots” were fitted to the hood’s underside. They snugged up to holes in the air cleaner snorkels and fed cold outside air to the Rochester Quadra Jet carburetor. Subtle “RAM AIR” decals were affixed to the outboard sides of the hood scoops. The Formula’s 400 engine was dressed up with chromed air cleaner lid and valve covers. Dual exhausts with chrome tips were also standard.

Standard transmission was the M13, a heavy duty Dearborn three-speed manual box. A pair of Muncie four speeds was offered optionally, the wide ratio M20 and close ratio M21. Also optional was the M40 three-speed Turbo Hydra Matic transmission. A 3.55:1 rear axle ratio was standard, while air conditioned models received 3.31:1 ratios. Optional ratios were 3.07:1 and 3.73:1.

The Formula received a firmer suspension with 300-pounds/inch deflection in the front springs and 103 pounds/inch in the rear. The front stabilizer measured 1.125 inches in the front and the rear bar was .620 inches with firm control shocks mounted at all four corners. Front disc brakes were standard with rear drums. Standard tires were F70 x 14 on six-inch steel rims. The Trans Am’s tighter suspension was offered optionally. It consisted of 300 pounds/inch front and 126 pounds/inch springs in the rear, 1.250 inch stabilizer bar at the front, and fat .875 inch bar aft. Wider F60x 15 Polyglas tires mounted on 15 x 7 Rally II wheels without trim rings rounded out the package. Add the variable ratio power steering and power brakes and the Formula responded right now! to steering input and could dive deeper into corners and come out faster. Its only competition was big brother Trans Am and the Corvette.

Inside, the Formula’s instrument panel was faced in a wood grained appliqué. Optional was a Rally Gauge that placed an 8000-rpm tach in the left housing along with a small analog clock. In the smaller center housing was the engine temperature and oil pressure gauges. The right housing contained the 160mph speedometer with the smaller fuel gauge and voltmeter to the far right. Two consoles were offered, one between the front buckets that contained the transmission shifter, the other between the optional rear buckets.

Of the 7,708 Formula 400s produced in 1970, 2,777 were equipped with manual transmissions. Exactly 4,931 were fitted with the M40 automatic transmission. One of those M40 equipped Formulas is owned by Jack Nichols of Orlando, Fla. Jack performed a complete restoration on the Formula several years ago, bringing it back to correct factory standards. The Atoll Blue Formula is fitted with the optional Ram Air engine, open scoops and underhood induction system. Inside, the tan Morrokide interior features console, optional three-spoke Formula steering wheel with padded rim, Rally gauges and air conditioning.

Text and Photography By Paul Zazarine © Car Collector Magazine, LLC. (Click for more Car Collector Magazine articles) Originally appeared in the March 2008 Issue

[sims4cars-breezemotors]

“Advance work-horse”

1951 Chevrolet 3100 🇺🇸

The 1951 Chevrolet 3100 (also known as the Chevrolet Advance Design and the GMC New Design) is an American classic two-door pickup truck manufactured by Chevrolet. It is part of the Advance Design series that was launched on Saturday, June 28, 1947, replacing the AK Series and lasted until March 25, 1955 (when the Task Force series replaced the line) with various minor changes over the years, with the 1951 model year being the sixth model. Updates to the 1951 model year include vent windows on both doors, 8 boards per bed, an 80 MPH speedometer, chrome window handle knobs and a chrome wiper knob.

Available exclusively for “No Limits” and “All Inclusive” tiers.

Model with HQ interior, open/close doors and functional light.

Go and join my Patreon!

[borg5of9]

Take a Ride

By Borg 5 of 9 SF

Part 1

As I walked up the deserted highway on the hot, cracked asphalt, I wondered. I wondered what made this ride so special that he’d pay me this much to retrieve it? And what the hell’s it doing way out here? It was about an hour’s walk outside of the closest train stop, but it seemed worth it for what I was getting. As I crested a rise, I could see what must’ve been the vehicle. It was a boxy American muscle car. The hatchback’s black paint had seen better days. Thin layers of dust coated parts of it. This thing didn’t seem so remarkable yet, aside from the supercharger sticking out of the hood.

And it wasn’t locked. I was incredulous that you could dump a car out here and it wouldn’t have been stolen or stripped. Could this road be even less frequently traveled than I had thought? I pulled the rectangular chrome door handle, and it unlatched with a chunky sound that resonated through the metal door. I swung it open. The hinges seemed like they could use a bit of work.

Sliding into the car, I noticed first that it smelled like dust and grease inside. Then, how hot the cheap black vinyl seats were: I could feel the heat through my clothes, so I leaned forward a little so it wouldn’t burn my back too much. The cushioning was worn, with uneven springs and patches of foam exposed in parts. However, the dash and center console were unusually high-tech-- conspicuous against the used-up and stripped bare interior of the cabin.

I put my left hand on the wheel. It was black and chrome, metallic and weighty.

Putting the key into the ignition, I gave it a good turn. Lights flickered across the dash for a split second, the wheel juddering as the engine turned over a few times then died. I tried again, more gently feeding it fuel this time. The V8 roared to life. LED bars and numbers on the dash sprang into action. 

The throaty engine noise then died down to a deep growl as I cautiously laid off the pedal. Some condensation dripped from the chrome tailpipe.

It idled rough, and the car’s bare metal cabin did little to insulate me from the vibrations. It almost looked like a rally car inside, complete with roll bars and little in the way of human comforts. I turned my head to look behind me. 

Taking the space where a back seat or trunk might have been expected was a cluster of machinery. I couldn’t tell what it was. Some parts looked like they could be from an engine while other parts looked more like an amplifier. Metal pipes snaked around it, some running through analog gauges, the needles wobbling. Some needles would periodically rise then drop. Glass and chrome canisters stuck out of a couple ports. Valves? But through the dull orange-tinted glass I saw liquid. In another, I thought I saw something twitch. It looked almost like some of them contained biological matter-- and it seemed to be alive. No, that wouldn’t make sense. It must be just some advanced computer system. The thing is, none of it looked like it was in particularly new condition. But I’d never seen anything like it, and that made me nervous. And the fact that it hadn’t been stolen yet made me even more so. My god, what is this vehicle? I had to know.

With trepidation, I put the other hand on the metal gear shift. The clutch slowly pushed in and I was about to cautiously shift it into first. I began to give it more gas. And that’s when I felt fangs bite into me just above the underside of my wrist, neatly puncturing the skin.

I instinctively tried to pull my hand away, but it wouldn’t budge. Looking down, I saw that a couple tiny sharp tubes had come out of the gear shift and embedded themselves right into the veins going up my arm. Another cord had wrapped around my wrist, holding it down against the knob. My hand’s grip suddenly clamped down against my will, holding the shifter tight. The tubes in my wrist gave a pulling sensation, like a blood test. Strangely, none of it really hurt, so I was more curious than alarmed.

“What th..?”

They wriggled rhythmically as some sort of fluid was pumped into my veins. It felt cold- a striking contrast against the car’s hot interior. Suddenly, any sensations of pain went away, like my pain receptors were now completely blocked. More tubes came out, this time from the wheel, locking into jacks which had formed on my hand, binding me to it. It again didn’t hurt, much to my surprise. Looking back down at my hand on the shifter, my fingers had grown into long cybernetic stalks-- chrome tubes which wrapped around the steel shifter, then merged with the car’s electronics. One larger corrugated tube extended from a large port on the side of my wrist and went into the vehicle’s cigarette lighter port. Others attached to jacks on and beneath the various consoles. I couldn’t feel my feet, but I knew they were merging with the car somehow. More cables came out and slammed me against the warm seat-back, holding me tight to it. I was at a slightly reclined angle.

Thick glowing goggle-like implants dropped from a compartment in the ceiling, each eyepiece resembling an old camera lens. I heard an electric motor sound as they were slowly made their way along a track, gently pushing against my eyes and forehead. Then the stepper motor inched it forward just a little until the tightness was right. I felt a helmet slip over the top of my shaved head, and press into the side of my skull, covering one ear and leaving the other exposed. They went on similarly to the goggles. The car continued to idle roughly.

Every now and then, the car would rev a little. Each time the engine revved, I could feel the implants growing into me a little faster, and the changes slowed as the RPMs dropped. The sensation spread up my legs and arms, up to my torso. I could hardly hear anything over the heartbeat booming in my skull. Tubes shot out of my body, tearing through my clothes, connecting themselves to jacks in the car. Metal began to cover parts of my torso and arms. Tubes and thin wires docked with them. Cold metal plates formed over my nipples, and two thick cables docked with these new implants. They felt tight. The styling of some of my new modifications wouldn’t look out of place beneath the hood of a car. Others were eerily organic, like the almost skeletal metal covering on my chest.

A thick metal cable jacked into an interface on the back of my helmet. It pushed into my head a lot farther than I would’ve expected. And then, it made a connection with something deep inside my skull. My vision lit up yellow around the edges for a second and my body jerked, the thick cables connected to my torso quivering. I realized suddenly that I wasn’t looking through my own vision anymore, but somehow the cybernetic goggles had interfaced directly with me. The sensation was indescribable-- almost an out-of-body experience. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like I was sitting in a seat. I felt floating, disembodied-- like my very consciousness had melded with the car’s. A heads-up of the car’s entire status flickered into my blue-green tinted vision. Although my sight was slightly dimmer than before, objects in my view had a strange contrasting glow around them, including the horizon line. 

“Neural link established. Proceeding to phase beta.”

I felt something rip through the front of my jeans and through my underwear. It made contact with my penis. I expected another hard cable and would have winced in anticipation if I still could. But instead the inside seemed soft and wet, like a mouth. Whether it was mechanical, organic, or some hybrid, I couldn’t tell; I couldn’t move my head anymore to see. I could only stare straight forward. A cable wrapped around the base of my shaft and balls, gently but tight enough. The appendage then gently glided onto my cock, enveloping first the head, then half the shaft. It began to suck and squeeze. I took a sharp breath in. The motor revved. 

Against my will, my hand moved into first. Gravel crunched under the tires. I automatically steered onto the road-- something else was controlling my hands. We began to drive through the barren landscape, and I could feel more implants forming. A phallus went into my mouth and I began instinctively to suck on it.

The RPMs shot up and the vehicle’s frame jolted sharply as we shifted into second. With each rev, I almost felt it inside of me. I could see the tach and speed values in my heads-up, down to incredible precision. And I could taste something in my mouth from the tube I was sucking on. It tasted sweet but medicinal. Some kind of drug? Or, another substance needed for the transformation perhaps? Suddenly, my body jerked. 

“Radar, online. Communications interceptor and jammer, online.”

It was still sucking me off in return. Suddenly, something ripped through the seat of my jeans. More tubes and wires. I could feel them wrapping around my balls and cock, and another phallus pressed against my anus, parting it slightly. It had been lubricated.

“All systems fully operative. Commence program.”

The RPMs slowly climbed. I grunted as the phallus pushed into me, slowly and gently. It pulsed rhythmically, like a heartbeat. Both me and the car were redlining. The supercharger engaged, its high pitch whine audible over the engine roar. Oh god, I need the release! We shifted to third and the car surged forward. The mouth pushed itself deeper onto my cock. I climaxed, my body shaking, yelling, but no voice coming out. All I could hear was my breath escaping, and the scream of our engine as I came into the machine and it came into me. We accelerated down the highway as I orgasmed, finally shifting into fourth when I almost couldn’t take it anymore. The revs dropped to a cruising level. Yet, the orgasm would take a bit longer still to fully subside.

We headed down the road, going nowhere in particular...

[door-handles-and-cabinet-pulls]

Choose the Top Quality Door Handle or Pulls for Your Home

The door handle is one of the most important elements that affects how your house looks and works.

They not only make your room look more lovely, but they also considerably improve the safety and privacy of the entire house.

Yet because there are so many multiple kinds, materials, and styles of door handles available on the market, it could be challenging to select the best door handle for your home.

There are several considerations to considered while selecting door knobs for your home.

There are 4 different types of door handles:

Knobs: The most common type of door handle is a knob, which is ideal for closet and bedroom doors because they are rarely used.

Lever: A door lever is an easily reached door handle that functions best in busy areas, such as the front and back doors.

Handle set: A handle set is a door handle and deadbolt combination that is best used on external doors.

Deadbolt: A door handle is more secure than a knob or lever for outside doors to your property.

Think about the door's function. Not every door is employed for the same purposes. Interior doors, for instance, might not need to be as durable as entry doors. Consider the purpose of the door before selecting a handle.

Assess the safety precautions The importance of security should be considered when selecting door knobs. Be sure that the door handle you choose has a powerful locking mechanism to make your home safe and secure.

Be aware of the Outcome It's also important to polish your door handle. You ought to choose a finish that is both durable and easy to care for.

Brushed nickel, chrome, and brass are the three most popular door handle materials. The traditional finish for door knobs is brass. It feels and looks conventional Brushed nickel is a preferred material for door knobs because it is sturdy and has a modern, sleek appearance. Chrome is another typical finish for door handles. It is also easy to clean and durable.

[maindoorhandle]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Right Main Door Handles for Your Home

When it comes to interior design, every little detail matters. The main door handle is an element that can be overlooked, yet it has a big impact on your home's usability and visual appeal. Selecting the ideal main door handle is essential since it improves your home's overall charm and security. In this ultimate guide, we'll cover everything you need to know to choose the perfect door handle for your house.

Understanding the Importance of Main Door Handles

Main door handles play a crucial role in your home's first impression. They are the first thing guests touch and see when they arrive. A well-chosen handle can enhance your door's aesthetic and provide a welcoming feel. Moreover, it contributes to the overall security of your home, ensuring that your entrance is both stylish and safe.

Types of Main Door Handles

Selecting the right door handle involves understanding the different types available. Here's a breakdown of the most common types:

Knob Handles

Knob handles are traditional and versatile. They come in various styles and finishes, fitting well with classic and modern doors. They are easy to use and install, making them a popular choice for many homeowners.

Lever Handles

Lever handles are ergonomic and user-friendly. They offer a contemporary look and are especially convenient for people with limited hand strength, as they require less effort to operate compared to knobs.

Pull Handles

Pull handles are often found on larger doors. They are ideal for heavy doors and provide a robust grip. These handles add a touch of elegance and are perfect for grand entrances.

Smart Handles

Smart handles integrate technology for enhanced security. They often feature keyless entry options like fingerprint recognition or smartphone access. These handles are ideal for modern homes prioritizing security and convenience.

Choosing the Right Material

The material of your door handle affects both its appearance and durability. Here are some popular materials to consider:

Brass

Brass handles offer a timeless and elegant look. They are durable and resistant to corrosion, making them suitable for various climates.

Stainless Steel

Stainless steel handles are modern and sleek. They are highly durable and resistant to rust and corrosion, making them perfect for exterior doors.

Bronze

Bronze handles provide a rustic and antique feel. They develop a unique patina over time, adding character to your home.

Chrome

Chrome handles are polished and shiny, offering a contemporary look. They are easy to clean and maintain, making them ideal for busy households.

Matching Your Handle to Your Door Style

Your main door handle should complement your door style. Here are some tips to ensure a cohesive look:

Traditional Doors

For traditional doors, opt for classic knob or lever handles in brass or bronze. These materials and styles enhance the timeless appeal of traditional designs.

Modern Doors

Modern doors pair well with sleek lever or smart handles in stainless steel or chrome. These handles provide a clean and sophisticated look that complements contemporary designs.

Rustic Doors

Rustic doors look best with pull handles in bronze or wrought iron. These materials and styles enhance the door's natural and rugged charm.

Maintaining Your Main Door Handles

To keep your door handles looking and functioning well, regular maintenance is key. Here are some tips:

Clean handles regularly with a mild soap solution to remove dirt and grime.

Avoid abrasive cleaners that can damage the finish.

Check for loose screws and tighten them as needed.

For smart handles, ensure the technology is up-to-date and functioning correctly.

Conclusion

Choosing the right main door handle is a blend of style, functionality, and security. By understanding the different types, materials, and styles, you can make an informed decision that enhances your home's entrance. Whether you prefer traditional knob handles or advanced smart handles, the perfect choice will elevate your home's aesthetic and provide lasting security.

[euroartofficial]

What is a luxury door handle and how to choose one

A luxury door handle isn't just a way to open a door, it's an artistic statement and a sensory experience. It enhances the door and elevates the entire space with its craftsmanship, materials and design. Here we explore how the right choice of luxury door handle, knob and ironmongery can transform your doors in design statements in their own right and enhance your properties interior.

Lever or Knob, what is right for your door?

One of the biggest decisions you have to make is whether you’ll go with door handles or door knobs. There are plain and simple styles available for each, along with more flamboyant and decorative options. Door handles are generally more ergonomic and suit both modern and traditional doors, whereas door knobs are suited to classic interiors and period homes. Luxury design and finishing is available in both. Here's what can make a door handle feel special and give you that luxury feeling:

Luxury door handle design

The design of the handle should complement the door and the design of the property, creating a cohesive and harmonious look. Modern door handle design is constantly evolving with new shapes and materials but are generally straight and sleek. Traditional door handles meanwhile often have a curved lever and nostalgic finish such as bronze or brass. Luxury Handles often custom-made and standout through intricate detail such as geometric patterns or elegant curves that showcase expert craftsmanship. Bespoke door handles and knobs can be tailored to reflect your personal style and to match the architectural details of your home. For a price, you can even personalise your door handles with something personal to you such as a hobby. The important thing to consider is how it complements your doors and the interior design.

                 

Materials

As you would expect luxury handles consist of materials and finishes that are a bit less run of the mill and more exclusive. •    Solid materials –Luxury handles are made from high grade metals that give them a heavier weight than standard handles and an indulgent feeling.  •    Premium metals finishes: Forget polished chrome and brass. Think Antique Brass, Black Bronze, Brushed Copper or Matt Satin Nickel. There are many luxury metal finishes to make sure your property shines with character, style and luxury.  •    Brass, whether its satin brass or antique, Brass has always been a popular choice for quality door handles because of its warm feel and closeness to Gold. It also well suited to classic homes.  •    Natural elements: For earthly elegance carved wood, inlaid mother-of-pearl, or even etched stone have been features of luxury door handles.

Functionality 

A luxury handle should feel solid and move effortlessly in your handle. It important to have a high-quality mechanism within the handle to ensure performance. Care should be taken to ensure the handles are well fitted and the levers are level on the latch. 

Overall look and feel

Balance and proportion: The handle should be the right size for the door and complement the overall design aesthetic.

Finishing touches: Polished to a mirror shine, antiqued for a vintage vibe, or coated with a special patina that develops over time – the finish adds the final touch of luxury. For consistency the door hardware should be in the same finish as your handles. You should also consider how the choice of finish ties in with kitchen handles, wardrobe handles, light fittings and other fixtures in the property.

Price point

While high-quality materials and intricate designs contribute to the cost, luxury isn't always about extravagant spending. At EuroArt we supply ranges of handles to suit different budgets. You will find all manner of handle designs and finishes that exude elegance without breaking the bank.

The finishing touch

Ultimately, a luxury door handle is about making a statement. It's a subtle detail that speaks volumes about your taste, sophistication, and appreciation for quality. Internal door handles add the finishing touch to your doors and interior, tying together different elements of the space.

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Crafted Elegance: Aluminium, Bronze, and Chrome Cabinet Knobs for Every Home

In the realm of interior design, the smallest details can make the most significant impact. When it comes to cabinets, the choice of knobs can transform the entire look and feel of a space. Today, let’s explore the timeless elegance of aluminium, bronze, and chrome cabinet knobs, and how they can enhance the aesthetics of any home.

Aluminium Cabinet Knobs: Sleek and Modern

Aluminium designer cabinet knobs are more than just functional hardware — they’re a statement of modern elegance that can elevate the aesthetic appeal of any contemporary interior. Crafted with precision and style in mind, these knobs boast a sleek and minimalist design that seamlessly integrates into modern decor themes. Their lightweight yet robust construction makes them an ideal choice for both kitchen and bathroom cabinets, where durability and functionality are paramount.

Bronze Cabinet Knobs: Timeless Charm

For those seeking a more traditional or rustic look, bronze cabinet knobs are an excellent choice. Bronze exudes warmth and character, making it perfect for creating a cozy atmosphere in the home. Whether you prefer oil-rubbed bronze for a vintage feel or antique bronze for a more refined look, bronze knobs add a touch of timeless charm to any cabinetry.

Chrome Door Handles & Knobs: Contemporary Elegance

Chrome door handles and knobs are synonymous with contemporary elegance. Their reflective surface and minimalist design bring a sense of sophistication to modern interiors. Chrome knobs are incredibly versatile and can complement a wide range of cabinet styles, from sleek and minimalist to bold and eclectic.

Choosing the Right Knobs for Your Home

When selecting cabinet knobs for your home, consider th,e overall style and aesthetic you wish to achieve. Aluminium knobs are perfect for modern and minimalist interiors, while bronze knobs add warmth and character to traditional spaces. Chrome knobs offer a timeless yet contemporary look that suits a variety of design schemes.

At Dlux Dekor, we offer a wide selection of high-quality cabinet knobs in aluminium, bronze, and chrome finishes. Our range includes an array of styles to suit every taste and budget, ensuring that you can find the perfect knobs to elevate your home décor. Explore our collection today and add a touch of crafted elegance to your cabinets.

[focusedmarketinsights]

DOOR AND WINDOW HANDLES MARKET - GLOBAL OUTLOOK & FORECAST

The global door and window handles market size was valued at USD 14.02 billion in 2023 and is expected to reach USD 17.70 billion by 2029, growing at a CAGR of 3.97% during the forecast period. The market is mainly driven by their installations in new buildings and the renovation or replacement activities in existing structures. In the construction and home improvement industry, door and window handles are vital. These handles are integral to building hardware, serving aesthetic and functional purposes. An extensive range of materials and designs that cater to the specific consumer requirements and preferences of several architectural styles are available in the market. With the growing trends in the construction industry, manufacturers constantly innovate to improve the door and window handle's design, security, and durability. The growth in security concerns has fuelled the market for door-related hardware, including prosperity, urbanization, and increasing construction output with high demand for doors and related accessories and components.

https://www.arizton.com/market-reports/door-and-window-handles-market

MARKET TRENDS & DRIVERS

Rising Home Improvement and Renovation Activities

The home improvement industry is growing globally, increasing sales of building materials, appliances, décor, and other elements. In addition, rental housing is also increasing, which is creating opportunities for home remodeling and renovation. It has been observed that in recent years, most of the homeowners residing in their homes tend to renovate their houses instead of moving into new ones. The demand for single-family rental houses has increased in recent years; thus, homeowners are shifting towards redesigning and renovating their homes for rental purposes. The increased spending on single-family homes and renovation activities is expected to drive the sales of doors and window handles during the forecast period. The door and window handles market are majorly derived from building construction in the residential segment and rising investments in renovations, replacements, retrofits, and home improvement activities.

SEGMENTATION INSIGHTS

INSIGHTS BY TYPE

The door handle type segment is expected to be the largest revenue segment in the global door and window handles market. In recent years, the demand for door lever handles has experienced steady growth due to the increasing focus on ergonomics and accessibility, changing architectural preferences, and the desire for trendy, functional door solutions. In the global door handle market, door lever handles have become a prominent choice. Increasing prominence on universal design and accessibility is a significant driver of the demand for door lever handles. Also, increasing consciousness of accommodating elderly and disabled people has increased demand for door lever handles because of their easy use. These handles need less grip strength and manual adroitness, are user-friendly, and are suitable for people of all abilities and ages.

INSIGHTS BY DOOR HANDLE

The global door and window handles market by door handle is segmented into lever handles, door knobs, pull handles, sliding door handles, and others. Lever handles, also called door levers, are widely used in residential, commercial, and public buildings. The door Lever handle design is mainly helpful for people with mobility issues, as it requires less grip dexterity and strength, which makes it more accessible. These handles are available in various materials, styles, and finishes, enabling them to complement several interior design aesthetics. They can be prepared from materials such as stainless steel, brass, or even wood, and their finishes are available from polished chrome to antique bronze. Increasing prominence on universal design and accessibility is one of the significant drivers of the door lever-handling demand. In the global door handle market, door lever handles have become a prominent choice, helping the segment hold the most significant market share.

INSIGHTS BY WINDOW HANDLE

The global door and window handles market by window handle are segmented into espagnolette, cockspur, tilt & turn, sash windows & lifts, and others. The espagnolette window segment holds the most significant global market share in 2023. Espagnolette handles are one of the most prevalent types of window handles and are generally used with casement windows, such as aluminum windows. This type of handle is fixed inside the window frame and is mainly the embellished and operational lever comprising a multi-point espagnolette locking system hidden inside the window. Espagnolette handles are the key component of the global building hardware and construction market. Several factors, such as regional building practices, architectural trends, and security concerns, influence these handling demands. Moreover, the global construction industry is driving the demand for espagnolette handles.

INSIGHTS BY MATERIAL

The global door and window handles market by material is segmented into metal, plastic, wood, and glass. The metal material segment dominated the global market share in 2023. Aluminum and steel have a high preference for making doors and window handles. It is lighter than iron and has a higher recycling rate. Metal door handles also have higher use in industrial segments, currency mints, labs, and other places where doors are paramount to providing security. The demand for the metal for manufacturing door handles has surpassed wood. Further, the demand for metallic doors and window handles is relatively higher in southern Italy and Spain in Europe.

COMPETITIVE LANDSCAPE

The global door and window handles market is highly competitive, with the presence of many public and private companies. These vendors typically compete on key parameters such as product design, quality, reliability, services, and price. The key players in the global door and window handles market are ASSA ABLOY, Allegion, dormakaba, Internorm, and Hafele. Further, companies with better technical and financial resources can develop innovative products that could threaten competitor products, making them non-competitive and even obsolete before recovering their R&D and commercialization costs. Therefore, vendors in the door and window handles market must develop new technologies and remain abreast with upcoming innovations to have a competitive advantage. The existing global players are increasing their investment in R&D facilities to ensure continuous customer-centric product innovation.

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Door Handle Wholesaler in Razzak Pura Hyderabad: Elevate Your Home's Style with Premium Hardware

In the bustling district of Razzak Pura, Hyderabad, where every detail of your home matters, finding the perfect door handles and hardware is paramount. As a discerning homeowner or interior designer, you understand the significance of quality craftsmanship and elegant design in every aspect of your living space. This is where our premier Door Handle Wholesaler in Razzak Pura comes into play, offering an exquisite array of Main Door Handles, Drawer Knobs, Kitchen Baskets, Council Handles, Stainless Steel Door Kits, G Profile Handles, and Cabinet Handles.

Elevate Your Home's Entrance with Main Door Handles

Your front door sets the tone for your entire home, welcoming guests and setting the stage for what lies beyond. With our extensive collection of Main Door Handles, you can make a statement that reflects your unique style and sophistication. From sleek and modern designs to timeless classics, we have the perfect handles to complement any architectural aesthetic.

Enhance Functionality and Style with Drawer Knobs

When it comes to the finer details of interior design, Drawer Knobs may seem like a small component, but their impact is significant. Our curated selection of Drawer Knobs combines functionality with exquisite design, allowing you to elevate the look of your cabinets and drawers while ensuring effortless functionality.

Transform Your Kitchen with Premium Kitchen Baskets

The kitchen is the heart of the home, and every aspect of its design should reflect both beauty and practicality. Our Kitchen Baskets are crafted with the utmost attention to detail, offering storage solutions that enhance efficiency without compromising on style. Whether you prefer sleek stainless steel or rustic charm, we have the perfect baskets to suit your needs.

Add a Touch of Elegance with Council Handles

Council Handles are more than just a practical necessity; they're an opportunity to add a touch of elegance to your doors and cabinets. Our collection features a variety of designs, from classic to contemporary, ensuring that you find the perfect handles to elevate the look of any space.

Experience Unmatched Quality with Stainless Steel Door Kits

For durability and sophistication that stands the test of time, look no further than our Stainless Steel Door Kits. Crafted from premium materials and precision-engineered for flawless performance, these kits offer unparalleled quality and style for your doors.

Discover Sleek and Modern G Profile Handles

G Profile Handles are a favorite choice among interior designers and homeowners seeking a sleek and modern aesthetic. With their minimalist design and effortless functionality, these handles add a touch of contemporary elegance to any space.

Find the Perfect Cabinet Handles for Your Home

Cabinet Handles are the finishing touch that brings your entire room together. Whether you prefer classic brass, modern chrome, or rustic bronze, our extensive selection ensures that you find the perfect handles to complement your cabinets and enhance your home's overall design.

At our Door Handle Wholesaler in Razzak Pura, we understand the importance of quality, style, and functionality in every piece of hardware we offer. With our curated selection of premium handles and hardware, you can elevate your home's style and make a lasting impression. Visit us today and discover the perfect finishing touches for your living space.

[showerscreenseals]

How Frameless Shower Doors Beautify a House?

Glass hardware is essential for both practicality and style in a variety of settings, including commercial and domestic restrooms. Frameless shower doors are among the most often used applications of glass hardware. For stability and convenience of use, these sleek and contemporary shower screens depend on a variety of hardware elements. Hinges come in a variety of finishes, including chrome, satin chrome, polished nickel, brushed brass, and white, and are a necessary component of frameless shower doors. These are also available in a variety of sorts, such as 90-, 180-, and 135-degree versions, to meet the specific needs for a smooth door swing.

Shower screens online in Australia is available from leading brands and they sell seals, knobs, brackets, and other parts as they as they are also required for the flawless functioning of shower doors, in addition to hinges. The door's pivot point is provided by pivot hinges, and the glass panels are firmly held in place by brackets. Towel rails give a practical place to hang towels, while knobs and handles provide comfortable grips for opening and shutting the door. Contemporary glass showers may be really lovely since they increase the sense of space and enhance the aesthetics of the home's bathroom.

A Catalogue of Items Provided by the Top Glass Hardware Product Vendors

Headers and Bracing Bars: These parts, which offer stability and structural support, are crucial to frameless shower screens. Installed at the summit of the shower inclosure, headers are horizontal bars that support and balance the enclosure's weight. In order to further improve the stability of the shower screen, bracing bars are vertical bars that join the header to the floor or wall.

Handrail Fittings: Handrails are yet another crucial part of glass hardware, particularly in locations like staircases and swimming pools where people's safety is at risk. A few of the necessary fitting components include square straight joiners, square wall brackets, and square end caps.

To get the greatest things for your bathroom and pool, get in touch with the top seller of these items and look through their catalogue.

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Welcome in Style: Explore Different Main Door Handle Desig

The main door of a home is not just an entry point; it's a statement of style and personality. And one of the key elements that can enhance the aesthetic appeal of a main door is the door handle. With a plethora of designs available, homeowners have the opportunity to choose door handles that not only provide functionality but also add charm and elegance to their entryways. Here are some popular main door handle designs to consider:

Classic Lever Handles: Timeless and versatile, classic lever handles feature a simple yet elegant design. They come in various finishes such as brass, chrome, or matte black, adding a touch of sophistication to any door.

Antique Handles: For those who appreciate vintage charm, antique door handles offer a nostalgic appeal. These handles often feature intricate designs, ornate detailing, and rustic finishes, making them a perfect choice for traditional or heritage homes.

Modern Handles: Sleek and minimalist, modern door handles are characterized by clean lines and contemporary finishes. From geometric shapes to sleek curves, these handles effortlessly blend with modern architecture and interior design styles.

Knob Handles: Knob handles provide a classic and elegant look to main doors. They are available in various materials such as crystal, porcelain, or metal, allowing homeowners to choose a knob that complements their interior decor.

Pull Handles: Pull handles offer a bold and dramatic statement to main doors. Available in various lengths and designs, they are ideal for large and heavy doors, providing ease of use and adding a striking visual element to the entryway.

Designer Handles: For those seeking something unique and eye-catching, designer door handles offer endless possibilities. These handles often feature innovative shapes, textures, and materials, allowing homeowners to make a bold design statement with their main door.

When it comes to finding the perfect main door handle for your home, look no further than Shiv Shakti Timber and Plywood Shimla. With an extensive collection of door handles in various designs, finishes, and materials, Shiv Shakti Timber and Plywood Shimla is your one-stop destination for all your door hardware needs.

Whether you prefer classic elegance, vintage charm, or contemporary flair, Shiv Shakti Timber and Plywood Shimla offers a wide range of main door handles to suit every style and preference. Visit their showroom today and discover the perfect door handle to elevate the beauty of your home's entryway.

[qocsuing]

The Evolution and Design of Door Handles

The Evolution and Design of Door Handles

Door handles are more than just functional objects that allow us to open and close doors; they are also an essential element of a room’s aesthetic. The design of door handles has evolved significantly over the years, reflecting changes in technology, materials, and artistic trends.Get more news about Door Handle,you can vist our website!

In the past, door handles were often handcrafted from metals such as iron or brass, with intricate designs that showcased the skill of the artisan. These handles were not just practical, but also served as a status symbol, indicating the wealth and taste of the homeowner.

Today, door handles come in a wide variety of styles, from the traditional to the modern. They are made from numerous materials, including stainless steel, chrome, and even glass or crystal. The design of a door handle can complement the style of the door and the room it leads to, whether it’s a sleek, minimalist lever for a contemporary space or an ornate knob for a classic setting.

The functionality of door handles has also improved. Ergonomic designs make them easier to grip and turn, which is particularly beneficial for individuals with limited hand strength. Additionally, smart handles that incorporate keyless entry systems are becoming increasingly popular, offering both convenience and enhanced security.

Environmental considerations are also influencing the design of door handles. Manufacturers are seeking to reduce the environmental impact of their products by using sustainable materials and production methods. Recycled metals and biodegradable plastics are just two examples of how the industry is adapting to a more eco-conscious market.

In conclusion, door handles are a small but significant part of our daily lives. They offer us not only the practicality of movement but also serve as an expression of personal style and technological advancement. As we continue to innovate and design, the humble door handle will undoubtedly evolve further, blending form and function in new and exciting ways.

[deltacustomfinishes]

Why There Is A Different Between Traditional Vs. Modern Bathroom Cabinet Styles?

In a traditional bathroom cabinet setting, ornate pulls and knobs with intricate details can elevate the overall look. On the other hand, modern bathrooms thrive with simple, minimalist cabinet hardware boasting clean lines. 

Tips for selecting cabinet hardware for making bathroom beautiful

Match the finish with other fixtures

Consider your cabinet type

Experiment with unique cabinet styles

Balance aesthetics and functionality

Stick to your budget

Match the finish with other fixtures

Consistency is key in bathroom refinishing California. Ensure a cohesive look by matching the hardware finish with other fixtures in the space. If your faucets and showerheads are in chrome, opt for chrome cabinet hardware. Similarly, if you've chosen brushed nickel for lighting fixtures, complement it with cabinet hardware of the same finish. 

Consider your cabinet type

Cabinets vary in type, and your hardware choice should consider this. For frameless cabinets, edge pulls or integrated handles can offer a sleek appearance. Personalized cabinets painting California enhances both functionality and aesthetics.

Experiment with unique cabinet styles

Incorporate glass knobs for an elegant touch, leather-wrapped pulls for a rustic feel, or antique hardware to add character to your cabinets. Choose hardware from Delta Custom Finishes that not only looks great but also stands the test of daily use.

Balance aesthetics and functionality

While aesthetics play a significant role, don't overlook functionality when you are going to bathroom refinishing California. Bathroom cabinet hardware should be easy to grasp and use, especially for family members of all ages. Consider the size and ergonomics of the hardware; while oversized, decorative knobs may look stunning, they might not be practical for daily use.

Stick to your budget

While quality is essential, stay within your budgetary constraints. Prioritize spending on frequently used cabinets when going for personalized cabinets painting California. Experiment with placing knobs on the top corners of cabinet doors for a modern twist. 

bathroom refinishing California

Personalized cabinets painting California

[apratments]

Birla RR Nagar: Luxury apartments in Bangalore

Birla RR Nagar: Luxury apartments in Bangalore

Birla RR Nagar In the heart of Bangalore, Birla RR Nagar redefines luxury living. Beyond the stunning architecture and spacious layouts, the project’s true brilliance lies in the meticulous selection of modern finishes contributing to its overall aesthetic. These finishes are functional elements and carefully chosen design tools that create a cohesive and captivating ambiance in every apartment. Save time and money by placing ceramics between the kitchen cupboards instead of covering the entire kitchen wall.

Choose simple ceramics for the bathroom, and you can mix colors. In a narrow space, avoid choosing a bathtub, and avoid large marbles in the basin so that it does not feel crowded or uncomfortable. It is possible to save money by choosing doors made of HDF and painting them uniformly to match the walls. Since wooden windows are expensive and inconvenient, aluminum windows are preferred. Power cables are uniformly colored in the color of the walls, and there is a good distribution of electricity and lighting.

Birla RR Nagar in Bangalore

Birla masterfully blends modern and traditional elements, creating an elegant and timeless aesthetic. The flooring plays a crucial role, with a combination of:

Rich wooden flooring Warms up the living spaces and bedrooms, creating a sense of comfort and coziness.

Polished marble flooring: Adds a touch of grandeur and elegance to the living and dining areas.

Durable ceramic tiles: Provide a practical and stylish solution in kitchens and bathrooms

Natural stone countertops: Birla Ojasvi Like granite and marble, they offer a luxurious and timeless look, perfect for kitchens and bathrooms.

Engineered stone countertops: Provide a durable and stylish alternative to natural stone, often featuring unique patterns and colors.

Hardware throughout the apartments is not overlooked. Birla Ojasvi uses:

Sleek chrome or brushed nickel hardware: Adds a modern touch to cabinets, drawers, and doors.

Intricate knobs and handles: Add a touch of personality and charm to the overall design.

Appliances are chosen not just for functionality but also for their sleek and modern appearance. You’ll find:

Integrated appliances: Blend seamlessly into the cabinetry, creating a clean and uncluttered aesthetic.

Stainless steel appliances: Offer a modern and sophisticated look while being durable and easy to clean.

Lighting plays a critical role in setting the mood and ambiance. Birla Ojasvi uses:

Recessed lighting: Provides general illumination throughout the apartments.

Pendant lights: Add a touch of drama and style over kitchen islands or dining tables.

Sconces and task lighting: Create a warm and inviting atmosphere in living areas and bedrooms.

Key Designs Themes

Birla Ojasvi The finishes at Birla Ojasvi are more than just practical elements; they are integral to the overall aesthetic. They create a sense of luxury, elegance, and sophistication while being warm and inviting. Each finish is carefully chosen to complement the others, resulting in a harmonious and cohesive design.

Birla RR Nagar incorporates key design themes through its finishes:

Modernity: Clean lines, minimal clutter, and sleek materials create a contemporary feel.

Luxury: High-quality materials, intricate details, and elegant finishes elevate the apartments to a luxurious level.

Timelessness: Using natural materials and classic design elements ensures the apartments remain aesthetically pleasing for years.

Birla RR Nagar demonstrates that modern finishes don’t have to be cold or sterile. The project shows how modern elements can be combined with traditional touches to create a timeless and inviting aesthetic. This perfect blend makes Birla RR Nagar a sought-after destination for those seeking a luxurious and sophisticated living experience.

Birla RR Nagar in Bangalore finishes with modern apartments. The finishing of modern apartments in Birla RR Nagar in Bangalore is a kind of modern and contemporary design, with creative and distinctive touches to make them more modern and compatible with the current era. Among the most important features of finishing modern apartments:

Light and calm colors are used, with dark colors for contrast.

Modern metal furniture, glass, and mirrors are used.

The use of direct and hidden lighting with attractive distributions.

Arranging furniture and equipment in a modern way and making use of all spaces.

Finishing modern apartments in Birla RR Nagar in Bangalore requires a special and distinguished taste and choosing a professional finishing company to implement the apartment design and achieve wonderful creative results. The Design Hub is one of the best finishing companies to help you finish your apartment. Contact us now

Conclusion

Birla RR Nagar in Bangalore is a testament to the developer’s commitment to creating a residential haven that caters to every aspect of a resident’s lifestyle. The township’s extensive amenities, serene surroundings, and vibrant community spirit make it a truly exceptional place to call home.

Birla RR Nagar in Bangalore is a sprawling township in Bangalore, India, renowned for its luxurious amenities catering to its Birla Ojasvi residents’ diverse needs. From recreational facilities and fitness centers to serene landscapes and vibrant community spaces, Birla RR Nagar offers an enriching and fulfilling lifestyle.

Why do you need to select Birla RR Nagar in Bangalore?

Birla RR Nagar in Bangalore is a testament to a luxurious dwelling in the heart of Bangalore. With number 2 and three-bedroom apartments designed to cater to various preferences, the venture offers a perfect combination of comfort, aesthetics, and present-day facilities. While the price of residing in Birla RR Nagar in Bangalore reflects the top-rate nature of the improvement, the investment potential and the first-rate existence it guarantees make it a compelling preference for the ones seeking to make extended-term funding in Bangalore’s real property marketplace.

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