The click of a key turning in the lock broke the lazy quiet of the room.
Light spilled in as the door swung open, stabbing at two pairs of eyes that had gotten used to the dim glow of the TV.
Click. Click. Click.
One by one, the switches flipped. Warm light filled the living room.
"I'm home."
Keerati stepped inside in his uniform, perfectly pressed, every button in place. Tall, slim-waisted, broad-shouldered—he looked like he had a spotlight following him everywhere. No one would believe this polished, almost luminous man was a thirty-year-old detective who spent his days dealing with criminals.
Ray sprang up from the floor, spine snapping straight, and launched himself at the officer's chest. The warm, faintly fragrant scent of him—clean soap, a trace of aftershave—was a thousand times better than the musk of someone who'd spent the day gaming in his underwear.
Just minutes ago Ray had been the kind of bastard who thought kicking his friends in the nuts was peak comedy. Now he melted into a clingy little lapdog, burying his face in Keerati's neck, whining softly like he'd been starved for affection all week.
"Tch. Fake as hell," Versailles muttered, lips curved in a sweet smile that didn't match the disgust in his eyes.
"My love~ Did you bring fried chicken for me?" Ray's rough, cocky face twisted into something absurdly boyish as he wriggled against the officer.
Keerati only chuckled quietly, eyes half-closed, letting him fuss without complaint. He'd long since stopped trying to correct Ray's habit of stripping around the house. As long as the place stayed clean, what did it matter?
"Help me with something," Keerati finally said, holding out a small note as he passed by toward the bathroom.
Work in exchange for food. That was the deal. Ray might not set foot outside without throwing a tantrum, but put a computer in front of him and he'd work magic. He had two talents in this world: hacking… and sex.
Ray grinned, spun into the chair, and his fingers danced across Keerati's laptop keys like he was born to it.
"Yesss, Captain~"
Roma's voice dripped with syrup, his grin sweet enough to rot teeth. In Ray's eyes, though, he didn't look cute at all—more like a smug little bastard begging for a punch.
"Find yourself a job so your parents can rest easy," Keerati said, smiling with that calm, radiant glow that somehow made even dim rooms seem brighter. He never once complained about the freeloaders cluttering his place, not even when Ray stumbled around kicking stuff over in the dark.
"Yes, sir~ my dearest Inspector," Roma cooed, eyes crinkling shut as he grinned.
"Yessss…" Ray pitched his voice high in mockery, spinning his chair around. He dug his toes into the floor and scratched them loud enough to grate nerves, flashing a wolfish grin at Roma. Then he lifted his middle finger, mouthing a curse without sound—only to freeze when Keerati turned and caught him in the act. In half a second Ray switched to scratching his head instead, face innocent, grin angelic.
Keerati only shook his head, smiling like a parent watching children fight. The damage was nuclear. Both Roma and Versailles clutched their chests as if his gentle smile had pierced straight through.
"Dinner with us, Roma?" Keerati asked softly.
Ray's jaw clenched. Why the hell is he so nice? In his book, when the husband's home, the friend should get lost.
"Why you asking him? He can go the hell home!" Ray snapped.
"My place is just downstairs. I can leave whenever I want." Roma gave a wide-eyed, faux-innocent smile—then turned sly and pitched his voice honey-sweet. "Rough day, Inspector?"
"Nothing unusual," Keerati replied, still polite, still impossibly handsome.
Roma, who wasn't even into men, suddenly found himself fidgeting like a blushing schoolgirl. "Ahhh… you must be so tired…"
"Roma!" Ray bared his teeth.
"Yes, darling?" Roma fluttered his lashes.
"Get the hell out!"
"I'll stay for chicken." He clasped Keerati's hand like a child begging for candy.
"Don't make me call him," Ray threatened darkly.
"Fine, fine. But lemme hug Inspector goodbye." Roma lunged into Keerati's chest with a laugh, and Ray nearly exploded on the spot. He stormed forward like a soap opera villain ready to claw hair out—only to stop dead when Keerati just… smiled. That quiet, endlessly kind smile.
God. Too good. Too damn good. Not real. Nobody should be this good.
For a moment, even Ray froze, staring like a beast caught in the beam of something holy.
Roma took advantage, leaning close to sniff the officer's freshly washed hair. "Mmm… Inspector, you smell amazing. Did you come from work… or a spa?"
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Couch pillows rained against Roma's back, courtesy of Ray. "Wanna test if I can shake you, but with this—" Ray pointed down at his flexing foot, toes twitching like claws.
"Savage." Roma squealed theatrically, darting behind Keerati for cover, flipping Ray the bird as he went.
"Ray," Keerati said mildly, frowning just a little at the wireless mouse raised over Ray's head. Even scolding, his voice was soft enough to melt steel. "Don't throw things."
The beast blinked, caught off guard, and his fury shriveled. No one had ever cooled him down with kindness like that. He pouted, then whined like a child denied candy.
"Babe, you saw that, right? He's acting like you're his husband! You keep patting him like that—I'm jealous, damn it!"
Roma snorted. "Pathetic."
"Rooooma!" Ray howled, tail bristling.
"Alright, alright. I'm going." Roma waved goodbye sweetly. "Goodnight, Inspector."
Keerati lifted one elegant hand in farewell. Just that, paired with the smallest smile, was enough to make both men's hearts stutter.
Roma left with a sheepish shuffle, confused by how close he'd come to swooning over another man. Keerati never pressed him, never interrogated, never judged. Always warm, always composed—even drunk, even when… things happened, he never lashed out, never blamed.
Too good to be real.
Far, far too good.