Akira's POV
I stay where he left me long after the door closes.
The room still holds the heat of what almost happened. My shirt is twisted under my arms. My pants sit half-fastened, the zipper biting into skin that feels too sensitive.
Between my legs I am still wet and aching, the ghost of his cock pressed against me lingering like a bruise that hasn't fully formed yet. Every breath pulls in the thick scent of us, his skin, my arousal, the sharp edge of interrupted need. My collarbone throbs where his mouth marked me. My lips feel swollen. My whole body remembers the exact moment he lined himself up and almost took what I was already offering.
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes until colors bloom behind the lids.
