He only says my name, and it's enough to make everything inside me go still. The sound of it feels like a tender command I can't ignore.
I close my eyes for half a second.
"I looked," I say, so quietly I almost hope the kettle steam eats the words before they reach him.
"I know."
Of course he does.
I carry both mugs of tea into my room and set them on the desk.
I turn around, grasping the edge of my desk behind me. Kai is crouched beside the bag, one hand resting near the zipper, expression calm in a manner that seems almost unfair. Not angry. Not even surprised.
Just waiting.
My face burns. "I'm sorry."
I swallow.
There it is again, that sharp precision. He doesn't allow me to hide behind an apology. He won't permit me to use shame as a shield.
Kai rises slowly, not crowding me yet.
"Why did you look?"
"I was curious," I say.
His eyes hold mine.
One second.
Two.
"Anri. That's not all," he says.
I hate him a little for knowing. I love him worse for making me say it.
My fingers tighten against the counter. "I wanted to know."
"What?"
I look away. "If you really wanted to stay."
"And?" Kai asks, voice lower now.
My face feels so hot I might actually combust. "And…if you thought about it."
His gaze doesn't move.
"About what?"
"Kai," I mutter.
"Say it."
My throat clenches. The words feel too big, too embarrassing, too revealing for my mouth. Which is stupid, considering what I already said to him last night through a screen with half my dignity missing.
But this is different.
He's here.
"I wanted to know if you thought about me like that," I admit. "If you wanted this too. Staying. Me. Whatever this is." My voice drops until it barely sounds like mine. "I wanted proof."
For a moment, Kai doesn't move.
His expression shifts just enough for me to see something new glimmering in his eyes—a softness, maybe, or a kind of delicate hope. It's a small change, nearly imperceptible, but it's enough to change the entire feeling in the room.
He steps toward me and closes his hand around my wrist. Not hard. Certain.
"Come here."
My body moves before my pride can object.
He pulls me in slowly, giving me every chance to resist and knowing I won't. His hand slides from my wrist to the back of my neck, fingers spreading into my damp hair.
His touch makes my mind go so quiet; it embarrasses me.
"Good boy," he says, in a low voice. "That was honest."
My stomach flips.
I hate how much one sentence can do to me when he says it like that.
His thumb moves once at the base of my skull. It's not exactly petting. Comfort and praise mixed together until I can't tell which part I'm reacting to.
"I shouldn't have looked," I whisper.
"Maybe not," Kai says. "You'll get yourself into trouble if you're not careful."
My chest squeezes.
His fingers move again, slow and grounding.
"But that's not what I'm rewarding."
I look up at him before I can stop myself.
Kai's mismatched eyes are steady on mine, darker than usual in the warm apartment light. "Every single day since my parents died, I've lied about who I am," he says. "You're the only person other than Saitō who knows what I do. But more importantly, you're the only person I trust."
My throat works around nothing.
"I almost lied."
"You corrected it," he says. "Look through my jacket, look through my bag, look through my phone if you must. You and me: this is the only place I need honesty. I don't want to hide from you anymore. But don't hide from me."
Kai's hand stays in my hair, and the worst part is that I lean into it before I can stop myself. Like a cat. Like someone desperate for touch with no self-control.
His gaze softens by a fraction.
"I packed the bag because I hoped you'd ask me to stay," he says.
My fingers curl loosely in the front of his shirt.
"And the rest?" I ask, barely breathing.
Kai's thumb stills at the back of my neck.
Then moves again.
"Because if you asked for more," he says, voice rougher now, "I wanted to be prepared. Am I supposed to pretend that last night didn't happen? Should I pretend that you're not the only person I've ever thought about getting that close to me?"
There's a tenderness in the way he looks at me, a gentleness that aches inside my chest because it's so real and so rare. It hurts in a way that feels almost too good, as if caring this much is both a vulnerability and a gift.
I look down, but he doesn't let me disappear completely. His fingers stay at my nape, holding me there, not forcing my eyes up, just keeping me close.
"Next time," he says, "ask me."
My face burns. "Would you have told me?"
"If you asked honestly."
I nod once, small.
Kai's hand moves again through my hair, slow and approving.
"Good."
My whole body reacts like it's been waiting all day for something that simple. The mugs of tea sit behind me.
Kai tugs at my hair slightly. Nothing drastic, but it makes my head snap up. My gaze fixes on his. "I like you like this," he says, the barest hint of amusement in his voice.
I raise my chin. "Like what?" I ask, even though I already know.
"Honest," Kai says. He lets out a quiet laugh through his nose, fingers tightening just enough to make me feel it. "Such a reckless little thing." His thumb traces the shell of my ear—deliberate, testing—and I hate how my breath hitches. "You're cute when you're honest."
The words shouldn't make my pulse jump, but they do. I glare up at him anyway, because some habits die hard. "I'm not cute," I mutter, even as I lean further into his touch.
Kai just hums, unbothered. "Keep telling yourself that." His other hand finds my hip, pulling me flush against him before I can protest. "But we both know that I can't take my eyes off you…and you don't seem to mind."
I open my mouth to argue, but the way his fingers slide under the hem of his stolen hoodie—my back arching before I even register the touch—betrays me completely.
His grin turns predatory. "See?"
For a split second, my whole body yields. I look up at him—I must look obscene right now, eyes half-lidded, lips parted.
Kai's grip shifts to cradle my jaw instead, his calloused thumb brushing over the flush on my cheekbone—infuriatingly gentle for someone who just caught me looking through his bag. "There it is," he murmurs, voice dipping into that stupidly smooth tone that makes my stomach twist. "That's the problem with you. You tell the truth everywhere except your mouth…gonna have to fix that."
I try to swat at his chest, but he catches my wrist effortlessly—pushing the sleeve up and turning it to press a kiss to my pulse point. My traitorous heartbeat stutters like a trapped bird under his lips.
"Shut up," I mutter, but the edge is gone, replaced with something embarrassingly close to a whine.
He laughs—low and warm—the sound curling under my skin, tugging me closer until our foreheads touch. "I like it when you try to argue." His thumb strokes my jaw. "It makes it so much sweeter when you give in."
I hate how easily he can coax me off balance. How one second I'm glaring daggers into his eyes for being so smug, and the next my lips are crashing into his for being so right. I'm breathless all over again as my fingers fist in the front of his shirt, trying to pull him impossibly closer.
He responds just as fiercely, grabbing my hips to yank me off my feet. I gasp straight into his mouth, and Kai swallows the sound before I can even be embarrassed by it. He lifts me higher until my legs have nowhere left to go but to wrap around his waist.
He lets out a low, approving hum into my mouth when my fingers dig into his shoulders for purchase. Doesn't give me a breath to protest—not that I would, not when his mouth is already slanting over mine, hot and demanding—my lips occasionally brushing that cut on his lip, sending heat down my spine. The second his tongue drags along my bottom lip, I'm gasping, letting him in with a shudder as he licks deep, as if he's memorising the taste. My fingers slide up to tangle in his hair, tugging just to hear the rough groan it punches out of him, and he retaliates by biting my bottom lip just shy of stinging, before soothing it with his tongue.
Then his grip shifts, arms tightening under my thighs as he carries us both backwards—my stomach swoops at the sudden movement—dropping back onto the mattress with a smirk, pulling me down with him until I'm straddling his lap, our chests pressed flush together until I'm trembling from the friction.
"Anri," he murmurs against my mouth, one hand bunching in the fabric of the hoodie at my waist while the other slides past the hem and up my spine. "You're shaking. Too much? Or do you want more?"
The question lands somewhere low in my stomach.
More.
The answer sits on my tongue. My fingers curl into his shirt, feeling the warmth of him through the fabric, the annoyingly composed rise and fall of his chest underneath mine. Still straddling him as if I have any business pretending I'm capable of dignity right now.
His palm feels warm and steady against my back, giving me space to answer as if he isn't the reason every sensible part of my brain has gone missing.
I should say something…
Instead, I lean in and press my mouth to the corner of Kai's jaw.
His reaction is so small that for one second, I think I might be delusional. The pause in his breathing, the slight tightening of his hand at my waist.
Something reckless sparks through me as my lips drag along the sharp line of his jaw, tasting clean skin and the faint warmth left over from the shower.
"Anri…"
I kiss beneath his jaw, then lower, where his pulse beats under thin skin, letting my teeth graze over the vein in his neck. The sound he makes is almost swallowed, but it goes through me like permission.
Oh.
That does something to him.
The realisation hits so hard that I nearly smile against his throat. For once, I'm the one finding the place that makes his control falter.
My mouth presses there again, slower, and I feel his throat bob against my lips. What would happen if I—
I press my teeth into his skin—not enough to really call it a bite, just enough to hook myself into him—he's already making a noise by the time I start sucking on his neck. His hand slides higher up my back, fingers spreading under the hoodie as if he's deciding whether to pull me closer or to hold me still.
"Answer me," he murmurs.
I suck harder instead.
His breath leaves him through his mouth, low and uneven, and the sound sends heat coiling tighter—making me grind against him instinctively. I could get addicted to this way too easily. Being the thing that makes him react in his body, betraying him in tiny ways. Being the one to make his breath hitch when my fingers tangle into his hair.
I can feel him fighting it, the way his fingers press into the dip of my waist in warning—until his hips roll up into me as if he can't resist the friction.
I sink my teeth into his neck—not enough to break skin—just enough to let an unguarded moan slip from him. The thick ridge of his cock presses insistently against my thigh through his sweatpants, hot even through the fabric, and the realisation punches a shaky breath from me.
Fuck…
I whine against his neck in response.
"Use your words," he says, voice low.
His grip tightens when my tongue darts out to trace the mark I just made, as if he's trying to ground himself. I lick a slow, hot stripe up the underside of his throat, relishing the way his muscles flex with the effort to hold still, before pausing at the sensitive skin just below his jaw.
"Words," Kai repeats, rougher this time. His fingers brush my cheek, tipping my chin up to meet his gaze. "Tell me what you want, little brat."
I try to make my expression defiant, but I feel like I'm failing miserably, even as I arch my back under his touch. "You know what I want."
"Say it."
The words stick in my throat—equal parts pride and need warring inside me—but the way his fingers dig into my hip, the way his cock twitches against my thigh through those damn sweatpants, makes me reckless.
"Want you to fuck me," I mutter, barely audible. "But…" I look away, my face flushing. "We'd have to be quiet…the walls are thin…"
Kai's grip tightens almost painfully at my confession, his breath hitching as if I've just sucker-punched him. For a second, he just stares at me—jaw clenched, eyes dark with something dangerously close to hunger—before his thumb swipes roughly over my bottom lip.
"No," he says finally, voice wrecked. "Not like that."
I bristle instantly. "What the fuck do you mean, 'no'—?"
He shuts me up with a biting kiss, stealing the protest straight from my mouth before pulling back just enough to speak. "First time I fuck you," he rasps, moving down to my neck, "I wanna hear every sound you make," he says between kisses. His hand slides down to squeeze my thigh, possessively. "Not gonna let you choke back a single gasp. Not gonna let you bite your lips raw to keep quiet." His voice sounds downright feral against my neck. "I want you ruined by it."
The heat in his words coils low in my stomach, terrifying and thrilling all at once. I swallow hard. "So what, we just—stop?"
Kai laughs, dark and rough, before rolling us over in one fluid motion until I'm pinned beneath him. "Who said anything about stopping?" His teeth graze my earlobe, making me shiver. "I've got plenty of ways to wreck you without fucking you yet."
The promise in that yet has my toes curling.
Kai's hand slides from my thigh back to my waist, fingers catching on the bunched fabric of his hoodie. "First," he murmurs, tugging lightly at the hem, "this comes off."
My pulse skips.
The hoodie has been wrapped around me for so long that I almost forgot it isn't part of my body. Or maybe I just liked pretending it was. It smells like him, hangs past my hips, swallows my hands, and losing it feels stupidly close to being uncovered in a way my plain shirt underneath shouldn't make possible.
His eyes lift to mine, his fingers stilling at the hem. "Can I?"
That makes it worse.
I nod before I remember he likes words.
"Yes," I whisper.
His gaze darkens with quiet approval. "Good."
He gathers the fabric slowly, dragging it up over my stomach, my ribs, my chest. I lift my arms when he guides me to, and for one blind second, the hoodie catches around my damp hair and blocks him from view completely. Then it slips free, cool air brushing over my shirt, and Kai drops it beside us without looking away from me once.
"There you are," he murmurs.
My face burns. "I was literally here."
"No." His fingers skim down my sides again, settling at my waist. "You were hiding."
My hands are still fisted in the front of his shirt.
I realise it at the same moment he does.
My throat tightens.
"You too…" I say, barely above a breath.
Kai stills.
The room feels different all over again. His hand remains curved at my waist, but something in his expression shifts—smaller than surprise, softer than amusement. Like he hadn't expected me to ask.
I swallow and force my fingers to loosen, sliding them down to the hem of his shirt.
His eyes drop to my hands, then lift back to mine.
"Go on," he says.
No smirk. No teasing.
That somehow makes me even more nervous.
I hook my fingers beneath the hem and start to lift. Kai shifts back enough to help me, raising his arms as I drag the shirt up his stomach, over the hard lines of his chest and shoulders, his damp hair. The fabric catches for half a second, and he lets out a quiet breath through his nose as I tug it free.
Then the shirt is gone.
I've seen him before. Showers after soccer practice, last night through a screen. But this is different. Close enough to touch. Warm and breathing above me. His skin still slightly damp from the shower, the mark I left at his throat flushed darker now, the lean cut of his body moving with every steady inhale.
He watches me look.
Doesn't rush me.
Doesn't cover himself.
My fingers hover for one stupid second before I place my palm flat against his chest.
Kai's breath shifts.
Barely.
But I feel it.
Something almost smug sparks through me at the proof.
"You're staring," he says, voice lower than before.
"You stare all the time."
"That wasn't a denial."
I drag my thumb lightly over his skin, over the solid warmth of him, trying not to look as affected as I am. "Maybe I'm allowed."
"You are."
The answer comes too easily. Too seriously. It makes my chest ache for half a second before he leans back down and kisses me again, one hand cupping the side of my neck while the other slides over the fabric of my shirt.
My breath catches immediately.
His palm skims over my stomach, slow and warm, then higher. Not wandering. Not searching. He knows exactly where he's going, and the realisation hits me before his hand even gets there.
He remembers.
Last night, through the screen. His voice was quiet and intent, telling me to show him where I wanted him to touch me. My own hand was shaking as I did it. The way he watched, as if it mattered.
His fingers move over my ribs, then his thumb brushes directly across my nipple through the thin cotton of my shirt.
My whole body jerks.
"Kai—"
The sound breaks out of me before I can swallow it. My back arches off the mattress, and his hand stills only long enough for his eyes to lock onto my face.
"There," he murmurs. "You showed me."
Heat floods me so hard I almost squirm away from it, but his other hand is still at my neck, steadying me without pinning me down.
"You remembered," I say, which comes out more wrecked than accusatory.
His thumb glides over my nipple again, slower this time, pressing just enough to make my thighs tighten around him. I'm still too sensitive from last night, my skin already primed and aching in that unfair way, and now it's Kai's hand instead of mine. Kai's fingers. Kai is watching exactly what it does to me.
"Of course I remembered."
That answer does something obscene to my stomach.
I make another sound, quieter this time, and his gaze flicks briefly toward the wall before returning to me. The reminder of my neighbours should help. It absolutely does not.
"You're still sensitive," he murmurs.
"Whose fault is that?"
His mouth curves. "Mine."
The bluntness of it nearly ruins me.
His thumb teases my nipple through the shirt, then brushes it again, alternating pressure just enough to keep every nerve in my chest awake. I bite back a gasp, lips parting around it, and Kai notices instantly.
"Don't hurt yourself trying to stay quiet," he says, voice low.
"That's easy for you to say," I mutter breathlessly. "You're not the one being—"
He pinches my nipple lightly through the fabric.
The rest of my sentence collapses into a strangled sound.
Kai's eyes darken.
"Being what?" he asks.
My cock gives a helpless twitch against the fabric of my pants, dragging against his thigh, and my hips follow before my pride can stop them. It's barely a movement. Still enough. Still obvious.
I glare at him, which would be more effective if my body weren't arching into his like a traitor.
"Ahh—you know what."
"I do." His thumb soothes over the spot he just teased, almost gentle enough to make it worse. "I can feel it."
My face burns all over again.
He kisses me before I can hide—his mouth slow and deep, catching my moans with his tongue—as his hand continues its steady torment at my chest until I'm clinging to his bare shoulders, fingers digging in harder with every deliberate pass of his thumb. He touches me like he's checking every note he took last night against the real thing, as if he's pleased each time my body proves him right by squirming or arching into him.
I break the kiss with a shaky breath, forehead falling against his shoulder.
Kai's hand slides from my neck to my jaw, tipping my face back up. "Too much?"
"Mmn—no…I like it."
"Then look at me, pretty boy."
His gaze stays on mine as he touches my nipple again, and this time I can't stop the soft moan that slips out. It feels too loud in the quiet room, but Kai doesn't tell me to be silent. He only watches me with that dark, focused look that makes it feel like I'm being peeled open one reaction at a time.
"Good," he murmurs.
The word alone makes me shiver.
I don't know if it's the praise, the attention, or the fact that he remembers me so precisely after one night of seeing me through a phone screen. Maybe all of it. Maybe I'm just doomed.
My hands slide over his shoulders, then down his chest, needing somewhere to put all the restless energy gathering under my skin. Kai's muscles tense under my palms as I trace lower, following the line of his ribs, the flat plane of his stomach.
His hand finally stills at my chest.
Not because he's done.
Because he's watching me now.
"What?" he asks softly.
I drag my eyes back up to his face.
He looks composed again—mostly, but not entirely. His breathing is deeper than before. The mark on his neck is still dark against his skin. His hair is messy from my fingers. His mouth is flushed.
I did that.
The thought sends a tiny, dangerous spark of satisfaction through me.
"I…" My courage trips over itself the second I try to use it. "I want to try something."
Kai's expression shifts, attention sharpening. "What?"
My face heats so fast it almost hurts. Suddenly, saying it feels impossible. Ridiculous, considering everything I already confessed last night, everything I just said ten minutes ago while rubbing myself against him like I had no shame left to lose.
Still.
"Please don't make me say it," I mutter.
Kai studies me for a long second.
I expect him to insist. To make me say it anyway because honesty has been his favourite weapon all evening.
Instead, his thumb brushes once along my jaw.
"Show me," he says.
My pulse jumps.
Kai barely has time to register the look on my face before I'm pushing at his shoulder. He goes without resistance, falling back against the mattress with a soft exhale, and something in my stomach flips at the sight of him beneath me. I swing a leg over his hips, settling on top of him before I can think too hard about what I'm doing.
I lean down and kiss him first, because I need somewhere to put the nerves. His mouth opens for me immediately, slow and warm, but I don't stay there. I trail kisses from the corner of his mouth to his jaw, along the path I already know makes his breathing change.
Kai's hand slides into my hair.
I kiss down his throat, over the mark I left earlier, and feel the low vibration of his breath catch in his chest. The sound makes me bolder. I continue lower, lips brushing over his collarbone, then the centre of his chest, pausing just long enough to feel his heartbeat beneath my mouth.
"Anri," he says.
Not a warning.
Something rougher.
I look up at him from where I'm kissing my way down his body. His eyes are fixed on me, dark and intent, but the composure around them has started to fray.
Good.
I drag my mouth lower, over his stomach. His muscles pull taut beneath my lips. His fingers tighten slightly in my hair before easing again, as if he's reminding himself not to guide me, not to assume.
By the time I reach the waistband of his sweatpants, Kai's breath has gone shallow.
He knows now.
The realisation shows in the way his jaw tightens, in the way his hand stills where it rests against my head.
"Anri…"
My fingers curl lightly at his waistband as I glance up at him.
"You told me to show you," I whisper.
For a second, Kai doesn't answer.
His fingers stay threaded loosely through my hair, not holding, not guiding, just there—warm against my scalp, as if he's afraid that moving too suddenly might break whatever courage dragged me down here in the first place.
His gaze drops to my hand at his waistband.
Then back to my face.
"Anri," he says, voice rougher than before. "You don't have to."
My stomach twists.
I know he means it kindly. I know he's giving me a way out, making sure I'm not doing this because I think I owe him something. But after everything—after him remembering me, touching me like I'm worth learning, looking at me like my want is something precious instead of embarrassing—the words still catch against something stubborn inside me.
"I know," I say.
Kai doesn't move.
I swallow, fingers tightening slightly against the soft elastic of his sweatpants. "I want to."
That does it.
His expression shifts—not much, but enough. Something in his eyes goes unguarded for half a second, as if the sentence lands somewhere he wasn't prepared to protect.
I feel almost dizzy from it.
"I've been wanting to," I admit, voice dropping. "Since last night."
Kai's breath catches.
Barely.
But I'm close enough to hear it.
"Since you saw me?" he asks.
Heat flares up my neck. "Don't make it sound like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I've been thinking about your cock all day."
His mouth twitches despite himself.
I glare up at him, mortified. "Shut up."
A low laugh leaves him, but it's strained at the edges. Too tight to be entirely amused. His hand in my hair shifts, fingertips brushing once along my temple.
"If you want to stop at any point," he says, quieter now, "you stop. You don't need a reason."
I nod.
"Words."
I take a breath. "I'll tell you."
Kai studies my face for another second, like he's checking whether I mean it.
Then he loosens his posture, just enough.
"Okay," he murmurs.
Permission.
My pulse kicks so hard I feel it in my throat.
I keep my eyes on him as I curl my fingers under the waistband of his sweatpants. The fabric drags down slowly, revealing the dark line of his underwear beneath. My face burns at the sight, which is absurd because I knew this was coming. I asked for this. I am actively doing this.
It's different when it's happening beneath my hands.
Kai's thighs tense under me.
Then I see it again, that pale, slightly diagonal scar on the outside of his thigh. Faint dots on either side where stitches must have been.
I saw it the first night he stayed here, when he changed into my soccer shorts and I pretended I wasn't looking. I don't pretend now.
My gaze lingers for half a second too long. Kai notices; I feel it in the slight shift of his attention, even before I look back up at him.
Neither of us says anything.
Not now.
But the sight of it settles somewhere tender under my ribs—another quiet piece of him I still don't know, exposed beneath my hands.
I glance up, and his gaze is fixed on my face with an intensity that nearly makes me lose my nerve.
I hook my fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear too, hesitating for one last breath.
"Still okay?" I ask because suddenly I need to hear him say it as much as he needed to hear me.
His eyes darken.
"Yes."
The word comes out low and certain.
I pull both layers down just enough to free him.
My breath stutters.
I've seen him through a screen. I knew, vaguely, what to expect. That doesn't prepare me for having his cock right there in front of me, already hard, flushed at the tip, heavy against his stomach, before it falls forward slightly with the movement. Close enough that I could touch him. Close enough that I am about to.
Kai exhales through his nose, slow and controlled, but his hand in my hair tightens by accident before loosening again.
That tiny slip of control sends a thrill through me so sharp that I almost smile.
I lift one hand and wrap my fingers around him carefully.
Kai's hips twitch.
It's small. Barely anything. But I feel it. I feel the heat of him against my palm, the way his breath catches, the way the muscles in his stomach tighten as if he had braced for touch and still wasn't ready for it.
Oh.
My own breathing goes unsteady.
"Anri," he says again.
This time, my name sounds almost like a warning, but not because he wants me to stop. More like he's trying to warn me what I'm doing to him before I decide to be reckless with it.
I stroke him once, tentatively, watching his face.
His jaw tightens.
Again, a little firmer.
His lashes lower for half a second, and the sight sends something hot and greedy winding through me.
"Kai," I whisper, because I don't know what else to do with the fact that he looks like that because of my hand.
His eyes open.
"What?"
I shake my head, face burning. "Nothing."
His mouth curves faintly. "That's not true."
I hate him for saying it. I hate that he's right.
"I like this," I admit.
The words come out quietly, but they land. I can see them land.
Kai goes still.
"Touching me?" he asks.
I swallow. "Making you react."
A low sound catches in his throat.
I lean down before I can think too much about it, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock.
Kai's breath breaks.
Not gracefully.
The sound is rough, dragged out of him before he can hide it, and it floods me with such a thrilling rush of satisfaction that my grip tightens instinctively.
"Anri—"
I kiss him again, slower, then let my tongue flick out, tasting him.
He goes rigid.
His fingers flex in my hair.
Not forcing.
Holding himself back.
The thought makes my stomach feel hot. Kai Takato, who keeps every part of himself leashed so tightly, is sitting beneath me trying not to grab, not to push, not to take more than I'm offering.
Because I'm offering.
That matters.
I wrap my lips around the head of his cock, tentative at first, and draw him into my mouth.
Kai's head tips back against the pillow.
The sight hits me almost harder than the taste of him. His throat bared. His breath is coming unevenly now. The mark I left earlier darkened against his skin. His fingers threaded through my hair, trembling just enough that I know he feels it when I take him a little deeper.
I'm not good at this. I know I'm not. There's nothing practised in the way I move, nothing polished. I'm learning him in real time—the weight of him on my tongue, the way his breath changes when I suck gently, the sharp exhale when my hand moves with my mouth.
But Kai doesn't look disappointed.
He looks wrecked.
That makes me bolder.
I take him deeper, slowly, lips stretching around him until my eyes sting faintly at the unfamiliar pressure. I pull back before it's too much, breathing through my nose, then try again. His fingers tighten.
"Careful," he says, voice thick.
I glance up at him without lifting my mouth completely.
His eyes are dark, fixed on me with an expression I can't fully read because I've never seen it before. Hunger, yes. But something else too. Something almost stunned.
The sight makes my stomach twist beautifully.
I pull back just enough to speak, one hand still wrapped around the base of his cock.
"You okay?"
Kai lets out a breath that nearly sounds like a laugh, except there's no humour in it. "You're asking me?"
"I'm being considerate."
"You're killing me."
The words go straight through me.
A pleased little spark warms my chest before I can stop it.
I lower my mouth again, unable to help the faint smile against him this time.
Kai feels it.
I know he does because his hips jerk before he catches himself, a sharp, instinctive movement he immediately reins back in. His hand in my hair goes tense, then stills.
"Sorry," he says, voice rough.
I pull off him with a wet little sound that makes my face burn the second I hear it.
"You didn't hurt me."
"I know." His gaze stays on mine. "Still."
That tenderness, right there in the middle of this, nearly undoes me.
I lick my lips, trying not to think about the taste of him lingering there. "I like that you want to."
His breath catches again.
"Anri."
"What?"
"You're going to make this difficult."
A tiny, reckless satisfaction flickers through me. "Good."
For once, he has no immediate answer.
It's ridiculous how much I enjoy that.
I duck my head again before he can recover, taking him back into my mouth with more confidence now. My hand moves with me, finding a rhythm that pulls a low, unguarded groan from him. The sound vibrates through me like praise.
I want more of it.
I want to hear exactly how much of him I can pull loose.
Kai's breathing grows heavier above me. Every now and then, his hand flexes in my hair, not guiding, just reacting. His stomach tenses under my other hand when I steady myself against him. His thighs shift, but he keeps them open for me, keeps letting me set the pace even when I can tell it costs him.
The room feels too warm. Too small. The tea on my desk might as well belong to another life.
All I know is the sound of Kai breathing, the taste of him on my tongue, the way his cock twitches when I drag my mouth back up and suck lightly at the tip.
"Fuck," he says under his breath.
My pulse leaps.
Kai hardly ever swears like that—not carelessly, not when he's in control. Hearing it torn out of him now makes me feel light-headed again.
I look up at him again.
He's already looking down.
Our eyes lock while my mouth is still around him.
Kai goes very still.
For one breath, neither of us moves.
Then his thumb brushes my temple, almost reverent, and his voice drops into something wrecked.
"You're beautiful."
The words hit so hard that I lose the rhythm entirely.
I pull back just enough to breathe, staring at him.
"What?"
Kai's mouth tightens like he hadn't meant to say it out loud.
Then, because he's already said it and apparently refuses to retreat now, he repeats, softer, "You're beautiful like this."
My entire face burns.
"You can't say that when I'm—"
"When you're what?" he asks, still breathless. "Wanting me?"
I take him back into my mouth before he can say anything else, mostly because I need to shut him up and partly because the look on his face when I do nearly makes me drunk with desire. Kai exhales sharply, his head tipping back against the pillow for half a second before his eyes find me again, dark and fixed—not nearly as composed as he wants to be.
Good.
My fingers tighten around the base of his cock as I move, trying to match my hand with my mouth the way that seemed to pull those rougher sounds from him before. It's still awkward in places—I know it is—but Kai doesn't correct me like I'm doing something wrong. He just breathes through it, watches me through half-lowered lashes, lets every little thing I do affect him in real time.
The weight of that makes my stomach twist.
My own cock is hard enough to ache in my pants, throbbing every time his breath catches, every time his composure slips because of me. It's humiliating how much this is getting to me—how watching him fall apart feels almost as good as being touched.
I'm doing this to him.
Me.
His hand stays in my hair, careful even as his fingers flex every time I suck a little harder. I can feel the restraint in it. The instinct he keeps choking back. The way he wants to move and doesn't. The way his hips twitch once, then still so abruptly I know he caught himself.
My mouth pulls back just enough to breathe, lips wet, pulse pounding. "You can move—"
Kai's gaze sharpens. "No."
I blink up at him.
His breathing is rougher now, chest rising too fast beneath my hand. "Not unless you ask me to."
The answer punches something warm and terrible through me.
Of course, even like this, with his cock twitching in my hand and his control fraying at the edges, he's still making sure I'm the one deciding what I give him.
My throat feels tight for reasons that have nothing to do with him.
I swallow and lower my eyes, suddenly too aware of myself, of the heat in my face, of the ache gathering low in my stomach from the sight of him losing composure one ragged breath at a time.
"Kai…I'm not going to break," I murmur. "Don't pretend you don't know what to do with me."
Kai exhales through his nose, slow and rough. His fingers tighten in my hair—not forcing, just anchoring himself there.
"Tell me if it's too much."
"I will."
Only then does his control slip.
Not all at once. Just enough.
His hips lift in a shallow, careful roll against my hand, cock sliding through my grip, and the sight of him finally giving in to the motion sends heat crashing through me so hard I nearly lose my breath. He does it again, slower this time, his jaw tightening as if even that tiny movement costs him something.
Fuck.
My body feels like it's on fire again—a bead of sweat drips down my temple—I quickly yank my T-shirt over my head and off before I can feel self-conscious about the fact I'm this exposed to him up close. Then I take him into my mouth again.
Kai mutters something under his breath that sounds almost like my name and almost like a curse. His fingers tighten in my hair—not pushing, never pushing, just holding on now as if he needs somewhere to put the feeling. I feel strangely proud of that. Proud enough that I glance up while my lips are still wrapped around him.
Then his hips move.
Not the restrained little twitch from before. Not a reflex he immediately catches and punishes himself for. This time, he lets himself follow it—a slow, shallow roll upward into my mouth that makes my breath hitch around him.
The shift in control sends heat straight through me.
He moves again, a little deeper this time, still careful, still measured, but freer now. His cock slides hot and heavy over my tongue, pressing farther into my mouth before retreating, and the sensation pulls a muffled moan out of me before I can stop it.
Kai's grip in my hair flexes.
"Fuck…" he breathes.
The sound of him like that—rough, low, finally slipping—makes my cock throb painfully against my pants. I steady myself with one hand on his stomach, feeling the muscles there pull tight every time his hips lift. His rhythm isn't perfectly even anymore. It stutters when I suck around him. Catches when I let my tongue drag along the underside of his cock. He's trying to stay careful, but he's not untouched by this. Not even close.
I moan again around him, louder this time, the vibration making his whole body tense beneath me.
"Anri—" His voice breaks around my name.
Pride sparks bright and vicious in my chest.
His hips roll up again, more instinct than calculation now, and the fullness makes my eyes flutter for half a second before I force them open. I want to see him. I want to watch every crack widen.
His eyes lock onto mine.
The sound he makes is wrecked.
Heat pulses viciously through me. My cock throbs against my pants, painfully neglected, and the fact that he can make me feel this wrecked without even touching me there only makes it worse.
My own breath stutters around him, and the reaction it pulls from Kai is immediate—his stomach tensing, his thighs going taut, his grip in my hair catching hard enough that I feel the pull without it hurting.
"Anri," he says, voice low and strained. "I'm—"
He stops.
I know what he means anyway.
The instinct flashes across his face before he can bury it: pull me back, warn me, give me the chance to move. Remove the decision from the heat before it becomes something I regret.
But there's something else too. Something more primal, more helpless. His gaze drops to my mouth and stays there for half a second too long. His hips give another restrained, involuntary jerk as if he's trying to rein himself in. The composure he has spent the whole night rebuilding starts to split right down the middle.
I know, suddenly, that if I pulled away now, he would let me.
I also know I don't want to pull away.
So I don't.
My mouth moves faster on purpose, my jaw aches through it. His cock hits the back of my throat for a second, and the sound it pulls out of him makes my own cock twitch.
I quietly whine around him as my hips grind, seeking the unbearable friction of my own boxers as I try and take him deeper—I want him to know I want this.
Kai's unguarded sounds go straight through me, the way he's trying to hold himself back, keeping his moans low so they don't echo through my apartment—it only makes me more eager.
I keep my mouth on him, hand moving, refusing to look away. Kai's breath leaves him in a broken sound—his hips rolling instinctively now, the tip of his cock catching deeper at the back of my throat in broken, instinctive thrusts—his head falling back again as he comes, fingers tightening in my hair before loosening almost immediately like he's terrified of taking too much even in the middle of it.
The taste catches me off guard. The sudden salty warmth of his cum against my tongue, the amount of it, the fact that it's Kai—my body hesitates for one stupid second before I force myself through it—even as my eyes start to water into tears. A small cough catches in my throat when I swallow, barely there, but enough that my eyes sting faintly.
Everything catches me off guard.
But I swallow anyway.
Not because I have to. Not because he asked. He didn't.
Because some reckless, devoted part of me wants to. Because I started this wanting to see him undone and now that he is—breathing hard, body tense beneath me, mouth parted around my name like he forgot how to hold it back—I want to take the proof of it with me.
When I finally pull back, the room feels too quiet.
My own breathing sounds loud. My lips feel swollen. My jaw aches faintly too, the dull strain of doing something I've never done before settling in now that I've stopped. My face is burning so badly I almost can't look at him.
Almost.
Kai is staring at me.
Not the way he usually does. Not coolly, not like he's cataloguing every movement. He looks stunned. Actually stunned. His chest still rises unevenly, his hair a mess against the pillow, the mark on his neck flushed dark, and for once, there is no clever line waiting behind his teeth.
The sight sends a tiny, wicked spark of satisfaction through me.
I press my lips together, trying not to smile and failing by a humiliating margin.
Kai notices.
Of course he does.
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth, then lifts again, something raw moving behind his eyes. His gaze catches on the way I swallow again, on the tears still gathering in my eyes, and something in his expression tightens.
"You didn't have to do that."
My embarrassment falters.
I should look away. I should make a joke. I should bury the whole thing under sarcasm before it can become too earnest.
Instead, I say, "I wanted to."
The words land heavier than I expect.
Kai goes completely still.
For one second, the only sound in the room is the soft rain outside and both of us breathing like we've been running.
Then his hand leaves my hair and slides to my cheek, thumb brushing slowly along my cheekbone. Not possessive this time. Not teasing. Just careful.
Too careful.
My chest aches.
"Anri," he murmurs.
I tilt my chin a little because I can feel the smugness creeping back in, and I'm not noble enough to resist it. "What?"
His eyes narrow faintly, like he can see exactly how pleased I am with myself.
"You're enjoying this."
"Maybe." My voice comes out softer than I mean it to. "You looked surprised."
"I was."
The admission settles warm and vicious in my chest, bright enough that I forget to be embarrassed for half a second.
I don't think I've ever heard Kai say something like that without dressing it up first. Without controlling its shape before handing it over.
I glance at him through my lashes. "Good."
A breath that's almost a laugh leaves him, but his thumb stays gentle against my cheek. "Careful."
"Why?"
His expression shifts, regaining some of that familiar steadiness, but not all of it. Not enough. "Because you're starting to look very pleased with yourself."
"I earned it."
"You did," he says, and the low sincerity of it nearly undoes me more than the teasing could have.
I blink.
Kai's thumb pauses against my skin, gaze still fixed on mine. "You did well."
The praise goes through me so hard, I hate that he can probably see it happen.
My stomach flips. My shoulders loosen. Something embarrassingly soft unfurls in my chest, right alongside the heat already coiled lower.
Kai sees everything.
His mouth curves, slower this time. Not mocking. Knowing.
"There you are," he murmurs.
I should tell him to shut up again.
Instead, I crawl back up his body and kiss him.
Kai catches my face in both hands the second my mouth reaches his, kissing me like he's still half-stunned and trying to recover by pulling the air straight out of my lungs. His breath is uneven against my lips, his thumb brushing under my cheekbone with a tenderness that makes my chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with what I just did.
For a moment, he lets me kiss him.
Lets me have that tiny victory.
Then something shifts.
It's subtle. The way his breathing begins to steady. The way his hands slide from my face to my waist, firmer now, purposeful. The way his mouth slows—not less hungry, just more deliberate, as if he's gathering every loose thread of himself back into his hands.
I feel it before he says anything.
Kai is taking control back.
His fingers tighten at my hips, and he rolls us over in one smooth movement. My back hits the mattress with a soft bounce, a breath punching out of me as he settles above me, one knee pressing into the bed between my legs. Not crushing me. Not pinning me cruelly. Just there, close enough that my body notices exactly where he is.
I stare up at him.
His hair is still a mess from my fingers. His chest rises a little too fast. The mark on his neck darkens beautifully against his skin. I should probably be nervous under the weight of his attention again.
Instead, the stupid little spark of satisfaction in me refuses to die.
Kai sees it.
My breath catches. My legs shift instinctively against the mattress, and Kai's eyes flick down for half a second before returning to my face with that slow, knowing look.
His hand slides up my thigh, stopping before it reaches anywhere that would make me lose the ability to speak.
"Want me to return the favour?" he asks.
My pulse jumps.
The question is casual in shape only. His voice makes it anything but.
I hesitate for half a second, and Kai catches that too. His expression changes—not pulling back, not offended, just attentive.
"Not because I owe you," he says quietly. "Because I want to."
Oh.
The ache in my chest turns warm.
"Yes," I say, maybe too quickly.
Kai's eyes darken with something that looks almost like satisfaction. "Yes, what?"
I glare weakly. "Yes, I want you to."
"Good."
His palm moves higher over my thigh, heat following everywhere he touches. My cock twitches in my pants before he's even properly done anything, already hard and aching from everything that came before. From watching him lose control. From the taste of him still lingering faintly in my mouth. From being looked at like this now—like he is nowhere near finished with me.
Kai leans down until his mouth brushes the corner of mine.
"I've been wanting to try something too."
Every nerve in my body sharpens.
I blink up at him. "What?"
His fingers draw a slow path along my hip, then back down, never quite giving me what I want. "I want to take my time with you."
That should not be enough to make heat flood through me.
It is.
I swallow. "That sounds suspiciously vague."
"It's not." His gaze stays on mine, calm and direct. "I want to make you wait."
My stomach drops in the most humiliatingly pleasurable way.
Kai watches my reaction with unbearable focus.
"You thought about that?" I ask before I can stop myself.
His thumb presses slowly into my hipbone through my pants. "Yes."
The idea of Kai thinking about me like this—imagining how I'd look, how I'd sound, what I'd do if he touched me and then denied me—goes through me like a live wire. My cock throbs hard against my underwear, and I have to fight the urge to squirm just from the thought.
Kai sees that too.
His mouth curves. "You like knowing that."
I stare at him, face burning. "Shut up."
"No."
The answer is quiet. Immediate. Almost fond.
Then his expression sobers slightly, and his hand comes up to brush damp hair back from my forehead.
"If it's too much, you say stop," he says. "Not my name. Not wait. Stop."
The firmness in his voice cuts straight through the haze in my head.
I nod.
Kai doesn't move.
"Say it."
"If it's too much," I breathe, "I say stop."
"And if you say stop?"
"You stop."
"Immediately."
I nod again. "Immediately."
Something in his face eases. "Good."
Then, because he is apparently determined to kill me with the carefulness of him, he adds, softer, "I'm not going to push you past what you want."
I swallow hard.
"I know."
He studies my face for another second, as if making sure I really do.
Then his mouth finds mine again.
The kiss starts slower than before, deep and warm and almost soothing, which feels unfair considering what he just said he wants to do to me. His hand glides over my stomach, palm warm against skin, making my muscles tense under his touch. He doesn't rush lower. Doesn't even seem tempted. His fingers travel upward instead, over my ribs, deliberate enough that I already know where he's going before he gets there.
My breath catches.
Kai pulls back from the kiss just far enough to watch me.
Then his thumb slides over my nipple.
Directly.
Not through fabric this time.
My back arches off the mattress with a broken gasp.
Kai's eyes darken.
His thumb circles my nipple, teasing lightly, then drags across it again. My cock twitches hard in my pants. I press my lips together to trap the sound threatening to spill out, but Kai notices immediately.
I blink up at him.
His gaze drops to my mouth. "Don't bite it bloody trying to be quiet."
"The walls—"
"I know."
He says it almost absently, because his attention is already back on my body. He leans down, lips brushing over my collarbone, then lower. My fingers clutch at his shoulders as his mouth reaches my chest.
"Kai—"
His tongue flicks over my nipple.
My whole body jolts.
The sound I make is far too loud for my apartment, high and startled and embarrassingly helpless. I slap a hand over my mouth on instinct.
Kai glances up at me from my chest.
The sight alone should be illegal.
His hair falls over his forehead. Mouth pressed to me. Those annoyingly steady mismatched eyes gleaming against the low light of my room.
He catches my wrist and gently pulls my hand away from my lips.
"I told you," he murmurs. "Don't hurt yourself trying to hide."
Then he takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks.
A strangled moan rips out of me before I can stop it. The sensation is too sharp, too warm, too much—his mouth pulling gently while his fingers tease the other side, switching pressure until my legs tense uselessly beneath him. My cock throbs so hard it almost hurts, trapped in my pants, every pulse of pleasure gathering there and having nowhere to go.
Kai hums against my chest at the sound, low and pleased.
"Sensitive," he murmurs, lips brushing skin. "I knew you would be."
"You're so—" My words break when his tongue circles again. "Fuck—"
He smiles against me.
Actually smiles.
I can feel it.
His hand slides down my stomach at last, slow enough to make me shake, over my waistband, then pauses there while his mouth stays at my chest.
I'm already breathing too hard.
He hasn't even touched my cock.
"Look at you," Kai murmurs, lifting his head just enough to speak. His thumb brushes my nipple again, making me shudder. "All that bravado and you're falling apart before I've even started."
I try to glare at him, but my body is not cooperating. "I'm not falling apart."
"No?" His fingers slip just beneath my waistband. "Then hold still."
I hate him.
I try.
I really do.
He eases my pants down just enough to free me, and the first brush of his fingers around my cock tears a gasp straight from my throat. My hips jerk before I can stop them, chasing his hand on instinct.
Kai clicks his tongue softly.
"Hold still, Anri."
"You—" I suck in a breath as his hand moves once, slow from base to tip. "You can't say that when you're touching me like that."
"I can." Another stroke, perfectly measured. "You don't have to obey."
The words make me go still in a completely different way.
He leans closer, mouth brushing my ear.
"But you want to."
My cock twitches violently in his hand.
Kai lets out a soft breath of laughter, warm against my skin. "There it is."
I shut my eyes, mortified and aroused enough that the two feelings have blended into something impossible to untangle. His hand moves again, not too fast, not too tight, just enough to make my thighs tense and my breath turn uneven. The other hand returns to my chest, fingers rolling my nipple between them with slow, deliberate care.
It's too much.
Not too much that I want him to stop.
Too much in the exact way he promised.
My fingers twist in the sheets. "Kai…"
"Stop?"
My eyes fly open.
"No," I say immediately.
His gaze pins me in place.
"Then use the right word when you mean it."
My stomach flips.
He resumes, and this time the rhythm is just slightly steadier, one hand stroking me while the other pinches my nipple, not letting my body focus on one sensation long enough to defend itself. Pleasure builds lower and lower in my stomach, spreading like heat beneath my skin. I can already feel the edge of it beginning to gather, sharper than I expected, too fast because I've been hard for so long and because it's Kai and because everything tonight has left me aching open.
He knows before I do.
His hand slows.
I make a helpless sound. "No—"
"Already?" he murmurs.
My face burns so hard I want to disappear. "Shut up."
"You were very pleased with yourself earlier." His thumb brushes over the head of my cock, light enough to make my whole body flinch. "Where did that go?"
"Kai—"
"I could stop so easily, you know…"
"You wouldn't…"
"I don't know," he croons. "You look so pretty right now, trying not to squirm…that desperate look in your eyes is even better than I imagined it would be."
The words punch the air out of me.
His hand moves again, just long enough to drag me right back toward that edge, and then—
Nothing.
He stops.
Completely.
The loss is so abrupt that I gasp, hips lifting uselessly into the absence of his touch. My whole body aches around it, cock throbbing painfully, close enough that I can feel every unfinished pulse of it.
"Kai," I breathe, wrecked.
His hand rests against my lower stomach, warm and steady, not giving me anything.
"Hm?"
"You—"
"I told you I wanted to make you wait."
I stare at him, breathless and betrayed in a way that is objectively ridiculous because he did, in fact, warn me.
He watches me with unbearable calm, though his own breathing has grown heavier too. His pupils are blown wide. His eyes keep dipping to where I'm hard and leaking beneath him, then back to my face, as if the sight is affecting him more than he expected.
That thought makes the frustration sweeter somehow.
"You like this," he says.
"I do not."
Kai glances down at my cock, still twitching faintly from being denied.
Then he looks back at me.
"Anri."
My face goes nuclear.
He doesn't need to say anything else.
I swallow, chest rising too fast. "…Maybe."
His mouth curves. "Honest."
I hate that the praise still works on me. Especially now.
Kai leans down and kisses me, deep and slow, as if soothing me through the edge he just pulled me away from. His hand remains still against my stomach. Not touching. Not helping. Just there, reminding me that he could.
I kiss him back desperately, trying to drag him closer, trying to turn the kiss into something that might make him forget his own plan.
He doesn't.
He smiles against my mouth like he knows exactly what I'm doing.
"Nice try," he murmurs.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
His fingers close around my cock again before I can answer, and the sound that tears out of me is embarrassingly close to a whine.
"There," he says, voice rougher now. "That's prettier."
He starts again, slower than before, almost cruelly patient, letting the overstimulated need from the denial sharpen every touch. My whole body responds too easily. My thighs tremble. My back arches. His mouth returns to my chest, sucking my nipple again while his hand strokes me in unhurried, exact motions.
I try to stay quiet.
I really do.
But then he draws his tongue over my nipple at the same moment his thumb drags over the tip of my cock, and the moan that escapes me is louder than anything I've made so far.
Kai lifts his head immediately.
I bite down on my bottom lip, mortified.
His eyes narrow.
"Don't."
"The neighbours," I gasp.
"I know." His pace turns maddeningly shallow but doesn't stop. "Open your mouth."
My heart stutters.
"Kai—"
"Open."
The command lands straight in my stomach.
I part my lips.
He slides two fingers into my mouth slowly, resting them on my tongue rather than forcing them deeper. The intimacy of it hits me so hard I almost forget to breathe. His fingers are warm, clean, calloused at the pads. I close my lips around them on instinct, and Kai's hand on my cock tightens just slightly.
His gaze darkens in a way that makes my pulse jump.
"Good," he murmurs. "Keep those pretty sounds for me."
My eyes flutter.
He starts moving his hand again.
I suck on his fingers to muffle the noise that tries to spill out of me, but the act only makes everything worse. Worse, because his gaze stays fixed on my mouth. Worse, because his fingers press lightly against my tongue every time I moan around them. Worse because there's something obscene about him making me quiet this way—not silencing me, exactly, but taking possession of the sounds before anyone else can hear them.
Kai leans closer, voice low by my ear.
"Not for the walls," he murmurs. "Not for anyone else. For me."
My cock throbs hard in his fist.
He feels it.
His breath turns rougher.
"There," he says. "You like that, don't you?"
I moan around his fingers, helplessly confirming it.
Kai's jaw tightens.
A fraction too much of something slips into his voice when he speaks again. "No one else gets this part of you."
The words strike somewhere deeper than they should.
My body arches under him, hips trying to chase his hand. His rhythm stays maddeningly controlled, giving me enough to climb, never enough to lose myself without him deciding it.
His thumb drags over the leaking tip of my cock, and I suck harder on his fingers to trap the sound.
"That's it," he murmurs. "You're doing so well."
The praise makes my vision blur at the edges.
I'm close again. Too close. My thighs tense. My breath comes fast through my nose. My hands clutch at the sheets, then at his arm, needing something solid as pleasure winds painfully tight inside me.
His hand slows again, easing back just enough to make me chase it.
I make a broken, muffled protest around his fingers.
He pauses just shy of stopping completely.
My eyes fly to his.
"Close?" he asks softly.
I nod frantically.
His fingers remain in my mouth. His other hand still wrapped around my cock. He watches me for one second, calm enough to make me want to scream.
"You'd do anything for me to let you come right now, wouldn't you?"
I nod again.
His gaze sharpens.
The fingers slip from my mouth slowly, leaving my lips wet and parted.
"Words."
"Kai," I gasp immediately. "I'm so close. I—mmmh—I want to come."
His eyes darken.
"Didn't answer my question."
I could cry.
"You're evil," I breathe.
He leans down, his mouth brushing mine once, barely a kiss. "If you really want to come, you'll beg for me."
"Kai," I say, wrecked. "Let me come…"
He gives me the faintest smile. "You're still demanding like you think you have a choice." His rhythm thins out again. "Go on. Fight it a little longer. It makes this sweeter for me." He resumes.
The first stroke makes my whole body jolt. The second has me gasping. By the third, I'm already shaking, every nerve too raw from being held at the edge and pulled back, too desperate to pretend I can handle this gracefully.
His hand moves faster.
Not careless. Not frantic. Deliberate—like he knows exactly how much speed I can take before I start losing pieces of myself to it.
A broken sound claws out of me. "Ah—Kai—"
"Mm?" he hums, far too calm for someone dragging me apart by the root. "Still fighting?"
I try to answer. I swear I do. But his grip tightens around my cock, and the next stroke rips the thought clean out of my head. My back arches hard off the mattress, hips jerking up into his fist before I can stop them.
"Kai—fuck—ahh—"
His thumb flicks over my nipple at the same time his hand keeps moving, faster now, firmer, and I can't hold still. I can't hold anything. My thighs shake uselessly. My fingers claw at his forearm, at the sheets, at whatever I can reach. Every sound I try to swallow comes out anyway—thin, breathless, humiliating.
"Please—" The word escapes before I can catch it.
Kai's eyes flash.
But he doesn't give me mercy for it. Not yet.
His hand keeps stroking, wet and obscene, each pass forcing another ruined noise from my throat. Pleasure coils tighter, meaner, so sharp it almost hurts, gathering low and fast until I can feel it right there—right there—
"Hah—ahh, Kai, I'm—"
I'm going to come.
I know I am.
My whole body knows it.
I break beneath the certainty of it, hips lifting desperately, mouth falling open around a sound that feels torn straight out of my chest—
And Kai stops.
Completely.
The pleasure slams into nothing.
A strangled cry rips out of me, cracked and desperate. My hips buck up after his hand on pure instinct, chasing what he just took away, but there's nothing there. Nothing except the awful, throbbing ache of being left trembling on the brink.
"No—" I gasp, breath shuddering. "No, no, Kai—"
He watches me writhe beneath him, mismatched eyes dark and intent, breathing heavier now despite the control in his face.
My cock twitches helplessly against my stomach, still desperate, still trying to tip over an edge he won't let me have. I feel wrecked by the absence of his hand. Too close. Too empty. Every nerve is screaming.
Kai leans in, mouth brushing the corner of mine as I pant against him.
"Look at you," he murmurs, voice rough with satisfaction. "So close to falling apart just because I stopped." The tip of his finger brushes along the slit of my cock, spreading precum in maddening circles before he lifts it slowly away. A slick, translucent thread clings between his fingertip and my cock, stretching until it finally snaps. My face burns. Kai watches it happen, then looks back at me.
I whimper. Actually whimper. I don't even have the dignity to be ashamed of it.
His thumb strokes once over my cheekbone, almost gentle, almost cruel.
I shake beneath him, breathing raggedly, too undone to argue. Too aching to pretend I'm not exactly where he wanted me.
Then his hand closes around me again.
Kai watches me unravel with terrifying focus.
"You wanted proof I think about you like this," he murmurs. "Now you have it."
I can't answer. I don't think I could form words if my life depended on it.
His hand tightens slightly. His thumb flicks over my nipple again, and I feel the pressure rising too fast, burning through me in waves.
"Kai—"
"Stop?" He teases. I hate how much I can tell he's enjoying toying with me, keeping on the edge like this, as if he wants to savour the memory.
"No—no, please—"
He leans closer, breath warm against my mouth. "Please, what?"
My face burns, but I'm past pride now. Past dignity. Past anything except the need pooling unbearable and bright beneath his hand.
"Please let me come," I whimper. "Please—I can't—Ahh—please let me…"
Kai's eyes go dark with satisfaction so intense it almost scares me.
He kisses me once, soft and devastating.
"That's my good boy," he murmurs, voice rough with something almost reverent. "Come for me, Anri."
The words break me.
My body seizes under him, pleasure tearing through me so suddenly I barely have time to breathe. I come with a strangled cry, hips jerking helplessly into his hand as he works me through it, steady and relentless without becoming too much, dragging every pulse of it out until I'm trembling beneath him and clutching at his wrist like it's the only thing holding me to the bed.
"Kai—"
"I've got you," he murmurs, voice low and close. "I've got you."
I've never felt anything like it. My own hand has always been too impatient, too eager to chase the end once it gets close. I've never stopped myself there, never held myself trembling on the edge just to feel how badly my body wants what comes next. And this is worse—better—because it's Kai's hand that brought me there. Kai's touch that dragged me right to the brink and left me aching there.
The orgasm keeps rolling through me, slower now, leaving my limbs weak and my chest heaving. Kai eases his hand gradually, never stopping all at once, letting the last shudders taper off under his touch until I collapse fully back against the mattress, boneless and ruined.
For a few seconds, I can't do anything except breathe.
Kai stays over me, one hand braced beside my head, the other still warm against my lower stomach, careful not to touch anywhere too sensitive now. His gaze moves over my face with that same terrible attention, but there's something softer beneath it. Something almost awed.
I blink up at him, dazed.
He brushes damp hair off my forehead.
"You okay?"
I let out a breath that might be a laugh if I had enough body left to make one. "Ask me tomorrow."
His mouth twitches faintly. "That good?"
I glare weakly.
Kai smiles.
Not sharply. Not cruelly.
Warm.
Satisfied.
Possessive enough that it still sends a faint shiver through me, even now.
"Good," he murmurs again, thumb brushing lightly at my temple. "I meant it. I'm not rushing." His gaze lowers, then returns to mine. "I've waited this long to touch you."
My throat tightens.
The ruined part of me wants to make a joke.
The honest part doesn't.
I just look at him, still shaking faintly beneath his body, and let that sentence settle somewhere far too deep.
"Anything hurt?"
I consider lying for half a second, then remember how well that usually goes for me. "My jaw aches a little."
His expression shifts immediately. Not panic. Not guilt exactly. Just this subtle, focused concern that makes me wish I hadn't said anything, even though I know he wanted me to.
"Because of before?"
"Probably." My face warms. "It wasn't bad. I just haven't…done that before."
"I know."
"You know?"
Kai's mouth barely moves. "You were figuring it out as you went."
The heat in my face doubles. "That sounds humiliating."
"It isn't." His fingers slide lightly through my hair. "You were careful. And you were honest."
That shuts me up.
He lets the quiet settle for a second before shifting away from me, and the loss of his warmth makes my hand catch at his wrist before I can stop myself.
Kai pauses.
His eyes drop to my fingers.
Then back to my face.
I should let go. I don't.
"Where are you going?" I ask, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.
"To get water. And clean you up."
"Oh." I loosen my grip, then immediately hate the emptiness of my hand. "Right."
Kai's thumb brushes once over my knuckles before he slips free. "I'm coming back."
It shouldn't feel like reassurance. It does.
He leaves the room only long enough for me to hear quiet movement in the bathroom, then the kitchen tap. I let my head fall back against the pillow and stare at the ceiling, breathing slow until the room stops tilting around the edges.
The untouched mugs of tea sit on my desk.
There's something almost funny about that. I made tea as if we're normal people. Like two boys who came in from the rain, showered, and planned to sit together while the weather softened outside.
Instead, Kai Takato has reduced me to a boneless, sweaty mess in my own bed while the tea goes cold.
I smile weakly to myself.
Then Kai returns, and the smile disappears under a fresh wave of shyness.
He hands me a glass of water first. I push myself up on my elbows, but he sits beside me and slides a hand behind my shoulders anyway, steadying me while I drink.
"You know I can hold a glass," I mutter.
"I know."
"You keep saying that."
"Because you keep arguing with facts."
I glare over the rim. He waits until I've had enough water to satisfy whatever internal measurement he's using, then takes the glass back and sets it near the mugs.
The rest happens quietly. A warm, damp towel. His hands are careful, efficient, never making it feel like something embarrassing, even when my face burns anyway. He cleans me up without comment, except to ask once more if anything feels sore. I say no. This time, he believes me.
When he's done, he folds the towel over itself and sets it aside. Then he sits back against the headboard, bare chest still flushed faintly from everything, hair drying into a soft, messy shape I haven't seen on him before.
For a second, I only look at him.
Kai notices, obviously. "What?"
"Nothing."
"That's rarely true."
I don't bother answering. I just shift closer, slow enough that I could pretend it happens by accident, except nothing about it is accidental. I settle against his side, then keep going until my cheek rests on his bare chest and one of my arms slips around his waist.
Kai goes still for half a breath.
Not in a bad way.
In a way that makes me aware that I chose this first.
Then his arm folds around me, firm and warm, pulling me properly against him.
My eyes close.
His heartbeat is still a little too fast beneath my ear.
A tiny, smug little warmth sparks in my chest at that, but something softer follows right behind it. Something almost dangerous in its own way.
He told me I should be scared of him.
Maybe I am, somewhere under everything. Maybe some part of me knows I should be. I haven't forgotten a single word he said in the rain. I haven't forgotten the violence, or the world he comes from, or the fact that wanting him means choosing all of that too.
But lying here with my face against his chest, his arm around me like there's nowhere else he'd rather put it, I don't feel afraid.
I feel safe.
So safe it almost hurts.
I press a little closer without thinking.
Kai's hand moves up my back in one slow stroke. "You cold?"
"No."
"Tired?"
"A bit."
"Then rest."
I make a vague noise, but instead of doing that, I curl my fingers into his side and tug at him slightly.
Kai glances down. "What are you doing?"
I sigh against his chest. "Closer."
The word comes out muffled, quieter than I intend, but it's out now.
Kai doesn't tease me.
He simply shifts lower against the pillows and turns more fully toward me, gathering me in until my leg brushes against his and his chest is pressed more warmly against my cheek. His hand settles between my shoulder blades, holding me there.
"Better?" he asks.
I nod, then remember.
"Yes."
"Good."
That word is going to ruin me if he keeps using it like that.
For a while, neither of us says anything. Rain taps gently somewhere beyond the balcony. The room smells like steam, damp fabric, Kai's skin, and the faint bitterness of tea we forgot to drink.
I trace one finger absently over his chest, not going anywhere, just following the quiet rise and fall of his breathing.
"You're staying," I murmur.
"Yes."
"All night?"
His arm tightens around me. "All night."
I knew that already. The bag proves it. His answer in the alley proved it. The fact that he's lying in my bed half-naked with one arm around me should probably prove it most of all.
Still, hearing it makes something inside me unclench.
"Okay," I whisper.
Kai's fingers move through my hair once, slow and soothing. He doesn't ask why I needed to hear it again.
Maybe he already knows.
Another stretch of silence passes before the question slips out of me.
"Did you like it?"
Kai's hand stills.
My face immediately heats against his chest. "You don't have to answer if—"
"I liked it."
I go quiet.
His voice stays low above me. "Very much."
My stomach flips.
I try to play it off by shifting my hand over his ribs, but I'm sure he can feel the way my fingers curl.
"You looked…" I stop before I sound too pleased with myself.
Kai huffs softly. "Stunned?"
I glance up at him.
His mouth is barely curved.
"You said it," I mutter.
"I was."
That little confession warms me more than it should. I rest my chin lightly against his chest so I can see his face better.
"Good," I say.
His eyes narrow, though there's no real warning in it. "You're still proud of yourself."
"A little."
"You should be."
The reply is too sincere again. I look down at his chest before he can see exactly what that does to me.
My fingers drift up and brush, carefully, near the mark I left on his neck. It's darker now. A flush of satisfaction runs through me.
Kai's hand slides along my back. "You like that too?"
I pretend not to understand. "Like what?"
"Seeing what you did."
My mouth twitches. "Maybe."
His thumb moves at the base of my neck, slow and absent. "Reckless little thing."
"You said that already."
"It's still true."
I huff softly, then reach for his other hand where it rests against the sheets. Kai lets me take it without question. The bruises across his knuckles have darkened since this morning, ugly violet shadows sitting stubbornly over bone. I turn his hand slightly, my thumb brushing over the bruises with more care than I mean to show. He did that for me.
"I'm reckless?" I murmur.
Kai's gaze drops to where I'm touching him.
"That's different."
"Convenient."
His mouth shifts faintly, but he doesn't pull his hand away.
I drag my thumb once more over the bruising, gentler this time. "Still."
Kai looks at me for a second, then folds his fingers loosely around mine.
"Still," he concedes.
I should argue. I don't have the energy, and besides, there's another question lingering now, one that feels strangely bigger than it should after everything we've already done.
I hesitate long enough that Kai notices.
"What?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"You just did."
I lift my head enough to glare at him. "You're awful."
"And you're avoiding the question."
I draw a slow breath, then let it out against his skin. "Are you into girls?"
Kai doesn't answer immediately.
Not because he's upset. He just goes quiet in a different way, eyes shifting briefly toward the ceiling as if he's searching for the most accurate version of the truth.
"I don't know," he says at last.
I blink. "You don't know?"
"I recognise beauty," he says. "Men. Women. I've noticed that before."
Something in my stomach tightens, though I don't know why. Jealousy seems unreasonable when he's literally holding me like this, but my body has never been especially committed to reason.
Kai's hand keeps moving through my hair, calm and steady.
"But that isn't the same as wanting them," he continues.
My breath stills.
I look at him properly.
His gaze lowers to mine. "I haven't wanted anyone the way I want you. Before I met you, I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought I had no…" He pauses, glancing back up at the ceiling. "No appetite for it. For anyone. People seem to find each other and want each other so easily. I never understood that. I didn't trust anyone enough. Didn't care enough. Not until you."
The room goes very quiet.
My heart stumbles once, then starts beating too hard.
"Anyone?" I ask, smaller than I mean to.
"No."
I don't know what to do with that. Being the first person to make Kai want to go past the abstract. With the quiet certainty in his face, like he isn't saying it to flatter me but because it's simply true.
"So…" I swallow. "Just me?"
Kai's arm tightens around me again.
"Just you."
I hide my face against his chest before he can watch that answer land too clearly.
His hand resumes its slow path over my back. Nothing demanding in it now. Nothing that asks me to give him another confession before I'm ready. Just warmth.
After a moment, I murmur, "That's kind of intense."
A soft breath leaves him, which might be a laugh. "You're one to talk."
Fair.
I press my cheek more firmly to his chest and let my eyes close again. His skin is warm beneath me. His heartbeat has finally begun to settle into something slower, though I like knowing it took a while.
"Anri," he says quietly.
"Mm?"
"You can ask me things."
My eyes open.
"Even if they're awkward?"
"Especially then."
I smile faintly against him. "Dangerous thing to tell me."
"I know."
He says it like he's already accepted the consequences.
I slide my arm more securely around his waist and pull him closer again, even though there's barely any space left to close. Kai doesn't comment. He only shifts with me, making room for my need as if it isn't something embarrassing at all.
Despite everything he told me about himself, despite every warning laid carefully at my feet, I feel sleep pulling at me in the safest place I've known in months.