I couldn't stop myself. The words he said, the calmness in his eyes, the way he confessed that he had always loved me—it pushed something inside me over the edge.
I leaned closer, letting my hands move over him, brushing the hoodie aside, feeling the warmth of him beneath my fingers. He tensed at first, chest rigid, jaw tight, lips pressed together as if holding back a storm.
"You… you're impossible," he whispered, almost breathless, but he didn't move away.
I smiled against his shoulder. "I know," I murmured. "And I'm going to make you feel it."
He inhaled sharply, but his hands didn't rise to stop me. He let me take control, his body yielding in that quiet, soft way I had always cherished. The way he trembled under me, subtle but undeniable, made something wild flare up inside me.
I pressed closer, my lips brushing the side of his neck, teasing, claiming. He shivered. His eyes closed, lips parting slightly, and I could see the fight in him fading, replaced by raw, unguarded need.
That face. That soft, desperate expression he made under my touch—it drove me insane. Every shiver, every bite of his lip to hold back a sound, every subtle moan he didn't let escape—it made my pulse thunder.
I moved deliberately, slow, teasing, feeling the tension coil and release in him under my hands. His chest rose and fell rapidly. I could feel him leaning into me, giving himself, even as he tried not to, and it made me want more.
"You're mine," I whispered, voice low, husky. "Even when you think you're holding back… even when you think you're cold… you're mine."
He didn't answer, just pressed his face further into my neck, trembling softly, the sound of his quiet gasp filling the room. The restraint, the soft vulnerability beneath his surface, made me feel powerful, yet tender, like we were the only two people in the world.
Every reaction, every tiny movement he made under me, every expression of suppressed need— it fueled a fire I couldn't contain. I leaned into it, letting myself lose control, letting desire take over.
He made no sound, but the trembling of his hands, the bite of his lips, the flush creeping over his cheeks—it was all confirmation. He was completely, entirely, quietly undone under me.
And I… I wanted every second of it.
I moved closer, pressing him into the sofa, holding him tight, letting the heat between us grow, and every glance I stole at his face made my pulse quicken. That soft, vulnerable, restrained Takeda… the one who tried to act cold… was mine to drive wild, and it made me crazier than I had ever been.