Archive of Our Own

Steam curled around them in thick waves, clinging to her skin, dampening her grip on the hilt. The whole place smelled like wet tile, blood, and adrenaline — the kind that made your pulse throb in your ears and your muscles coil even tighter.

Rumi ducked under a swipe, blade slicing clean through the demon’s midsection, and kicked its collapsing body out of her way. Somewhere in the noise — steel on steel, claws on stone — she heard a voice that was too calm for the middle of a battle.

“Princess.”

She didn’t even see him until she’d already closed the distance. Jinu, half-shadowed in the mist, shirt ripped open down one side, a faint slash along his collarbone already sealing over. His fangs were out. Gold flickered in his eyes. And for someone surrounded by things trying to rip him apart, he looked irritatingly… entertained.

He parried one last strike before she shoved forward, using her momentum toto slam him back against the slick tile wall The steam rose between them in slow, heavy swirls; she didn’t give it a chance to settle. Her blade came up in one smooth motion until the point hovered right under his jaw.

Close enough that she could feel the heat coming off him.
Close enough that one little twitch would mean blood.

His smirk spread slow. “You’re strong.” His gaze dragged down the line of her arm, over her chest, back up to her face like he was cataloging every inch.

“Stay still before I cut you in half.”

He tilted his head just enough to press the edge of his throat harder against her blade. Daring. “Are we flirting or fighting right now? ’Cause I’m getting mixed signals.”

Her lips curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. She leaned in, letting her knee press into his hip, voice dropping to a whisper meant for him alone. “I’m gonna sink my teeth into your fucking throat.”

His smirk kicked up another notch. “Still proving my point.”

She could feel his breath against her cheek now, warm despite the damp air. Every muscle in his body was ready — not to shove her off, but to hold her there if she let him.

“Hands where I can see them,” she snapped, just to see if he’d listen.

He did, palms braced against the wall, grin somehow both cocky and obedient. “Like this?”

She let her gaze drop, slow and deliberate, before meeting his eyes again. “For now.”

He laughed once — low, rough, and way too pleased — and for half a second she forgot there was still a fight happening around them. The tile was warm at her back, the steam too thick to see more than the outline of his shoulders. She hated the way her pulse kicked just from him looking at her like that.

Another crash shook the wall, breaking the moment. She stepped back, but not before dragging her blade across his collarbone just hard enough to nick him.

He glanced down at the bead of blood, then back at her with a look that promised he’d remember exactly where she cut him. “You’re gonna have to finish what you started later.”

She didn’t answer. Just turned back into the fight — but the steam couldn’t hide the way she was smiling.

…

They broke apart, but it wasn’t clean.
Not when his gaze kept dragging back to her like gravity had its own agenda.

She pivoted to block a demon’s claw swipe, the impact jolting up her arm. Over his shoulder, she caught him still watching her — right up until someone twice his size lunged at him. Jinu didn’t flinch. Just ducked under the swing, caught the demon by the back of the neck, and drove it face-first into the nearest column hard enough to crack tile.

Show-off.

Steam billowed between them, curling over his shoulders, but it couldn’t hide the smirk.
“You missed a spot,” he called, nodding at the demon trying to creep up behind her.

She didn’t even glance back. One quick spin, blade flashing, and it was nothing but ash on the floor. “Worried about me, Jinu?”

His laugh was short, but it had teeth. “Only worried I won’t get to see that look on your face again when you’ve got me pinned.”

A flash of heat zipped straight down her spine. Do not react.

“Keep talking like that,” she warned, “and I’ll make sure you can’t walk out of here.”

His eyes sparked gold for just a second. “Promises, promises.”

They moved through the chaos like they’d trained together — not that she’d ever admit it. Every time she turned, he was there, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed, close enough that she could feel the rush of air when he swung. And every time their eyes met, there was that same look — like the fight was the least interesting thing happening in the room.

Another demon went down between them, splattering black blood across the wet floor. She stepped over it without breaking stride, shoving him back a half step to take the next one herself.

He let her.
But the grin stayed.

“You know,” he said over the clash of metal, “for someone who swears she doesn’t like me, you spend a lot of time this close.”

She slammed the hilt of her sword into a demon’s jaw, the crack satisfying. “I like you better when you’re useful.”

“Then you must love me right now.”

The banter shouldn’t have felt like a touch, but somehow it did — brushing along the edge of her patience, hooking under her skin. She hated that it made her mouth twitch like she might smile.

A wall somewhere to their left gave way with a crash, the noise swallowing the rest of whatever he’d been about to say. The tide of the fight shifted, pulling them in opposite directions.

For the briefest moment, she thought about letting herself be dragged away. About putting distance between them before she did something stupid.

Instead, she caught his arm as they passed, yanking him close enough that her lips nearly brushed his ear.
“Later,” she said — low, dangerous.

When she let go, he was grinning again. But this time, it looked almost hungry.

By the time they made it back to the apartment, Rumi’s boots were still damp from the bathhouse floor and her hair smelled faintly like incense and steam. She’d showered. Twice. None of it helped.

Zoey was halfway through an animated rant about a lighting tech who’d “definitely” been flirting with her when they were packing up after the mission. Mira was on her bed, upside down with her legs propped on the wall, idly scrolling her phone.

Rumi sat cross-legged on her own bed, pretending to listen, nodding at the right beats — but her mind wasn’t here. It was still back there. Pinned in the haze of the fight. Palm pressed to the heat of his chest, the bite of her blade just under his jaw. The smirk that had no business making her pulse jump like that. And god, the way his voice had dropped when he’d said, You’re strong. She shook her head, hard, like she could knock it loose.

“—Rumi? You hearing this?” Zoey’s voice cut through.

She blinked. “Huh?”

Zoey narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “You’ve been spacey all night. Who were you thinking about?”

“No one.” Too fast. Too defensive.

Mira’s head popped up from her phone. “Uh-oh. That’s the ‘ definitely someone’ voice.”

“It’s not—” She bit down on the rest, because arguing would just make it worse.

Zoey leaned in, grinning like she’d already solved the mystery. “Is it someone from the mission?”

Her silence was enough of an answer. Zoey gasped. “Oh my god, it’s one of the Saja boys.”

Mira’s smirk sharpened. “Tall one? Smiley one? The one with the voice?”

Rumi reached for the nearest pillow and threw it at her. “It’s no one,” she insisted, even as her stupid brain replayed the gold flicker in his eyes, the faint scrape of his fangs against his lip.

Mira caught the pillow without even looking up. “Right. And I’m allergic to drama.”

Zoey snorted, flopping back on her bed. “Fine, don’t tell us. But if you suddenly disappear tonight, we’re assuming you’re either fighting or making out with him.”

Rumi rolled her eyes, rifling through her drawer like the right T-shirt could save her from this conversation. It didn’t.

And later, when the room went quiet — Mira humming to herself, Zoey tapping away at her phone — she caught herself glancing toward the corner where her jacket hung. Her phone was in the pocket.

She told herself she was just checking the time when she reached for it. Not looking to see if his name was there. Not imagining the way her pulse would jump if it was. 

She told herself a lot of things.

The steam from the bathhouse had followed her home, clinging to her hair and jacket no matter how many times she’d shaken them out on the walk back.

She’d showered as soon as they got in. It didn’t help - She’d scrubbed her hands until they were pink and still swore she could feel the ghost of his pulse under her fingers.

Zoey was still pacing, half-ranting, half-dramatizing the chaos of the mission. “—and then he just stood there? Like, what was that? Trying to get you killed?”

Mira made a low noise from her bed, legs crossed as she polished a dagger. “Typical demon move. Act cocky, get in the way, almost ruin the plan.”

Rumi sat on the edge of her bed, towel-damp hair dripping down the back of her hoodie, trying to look busy untangling her necklace chain.
“Maybe,” she said, though it came out flatter than she meant.

Zoey caught it instantly. “Wait. You’re not… defending him, are you?”

“No,” Rumi said too fast.

Mira’s head lifted, eyes narrowing. “Because it kinda sounds like you’re defending him.”

“I’m not.” She tucked her knees up, pretending to focus on the knot in the chain. I’m not. I’m not. I’m—

The problem was, she could still see him — steam curling over his shoulders, eyes glinting like molten gold under the low light. That smug little smirk when she’d had her blade at his throat, like he liked it there.

Her pulse jumped, and she hated herself for it.

Zoey flopped onto the bed across from hers, chin propped in her hands. “Look, I get it. He’s… whatever. Tall. Hair. That voice.”

Mira snorted. “Yeah, and a demon who almost blew our cover. Don’t forget that part.”

Rumi made herself roll her eyes because it was easier than admitting the truth — that the memory of his breath on her jaw had been replaying like a stuck record.
“Can we drop it?” she muttered.

“Sure,” Zoey said lightly — but the grin she hid behind her hand said otherwise.

And when the room finally quieted, Mira sharpening her blade in soft, steady strokes and Zoey scrolling her phone, Rumi found her gaze drifting toward the corner where her jacket hung.
Her phone was in the pocket.

She told herself she was just checking the time when she reached for it.
Not looking to see if his name lit up her screen.

…

The clock on her phone read 10:47. Too late for anyone normal to be texting. Too early for her to pretend she was asleep and miss it.

And then it lit up.

Jinu: Still thinking about it?

Her stomach flipped before her brain caught up. She typed back before she could talk herself out of it.

Rumi: About what?

The reply came almost instantly, like he’d been waiting for her to bite.

Jinu: The bathhouse. You. Me. You on top of me with that look on your face.

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Across the room, Zoey was humming along to something on her phone. Mira didn’t look up from her dagger.
No one here knew she was currently debating whether to throw her phone out the window or keep this going.

She went with the latter.

Rumi: You make it sound like I didn’t almost slit your throat.

Jinu: Yeah. “Almost.”

Her face heated.

Jinu: What, you think I didn’t notice you hesitate?

Rumi: I didn’t hesitate.

Jinu: Princess, you looked at me. You liked it.

She made a noise in her throat — somewhere between a scoff and a laugh — and set the phone down on her blanket. She shouldn’t answer.
She was not answering—

The phone buzzed again.

Jinu: If you want to do it again, you know where to find me.

No emoji. No winky face. Just that.

She hated how quickly her pulse picked up. Hated that she knew exactly which dorm room he meant without having to ask.

From the other bed, Zoey glanced up. “Who’s got you smiling like that?”

“I’m not smiling,” Rumi lied, already standing and grabbing her jacket.

“Where are you going?” Mira asked.

“Returning something,” she said, which wasn’t technically untrue.

She slid her phone into her pocket and headed for the door, ignoring the way both girls exchanged looks behind her.

----

The Saja dorm building was too quiet for this late at night. No music blasting from someone’s room. No drunken shouting echoing down the stairwell. Just dim yellow light pooling on the hallway carpet and the sound of her boots scuffing as she walked.

She half expected someone else to answer the knock. Abby, maybe. Or that quiet one with all the hair.
But no — the door swung open and there he was.

Jinu leaned against the frame like he’d been born there, one hand braced high, the other holding a melting popsicle like he hadn’t been standing two feet from her in a fight just hours ago. His hair was damp, curling a little at the ends, and the neck of his T-shirt was stretched like he’d yanked it on without looking.

“Princess.” The word came out low, lazy, like it was just for her. His gaze swept down and back up. “Here to pin me down again?”

She crossed her arms. “You couldn’t handle it if I did.”

His mouth curved slow, wolfish. “Try me.”

Her brows lifted. “What makes you think I came here for you ?”

“Oh, I’m sure it was the scenic walk through the demon frat house you were after,” he said, stepping aside like he might let her in — but not before his shoulder brushed hers in the doorway. “What’s in the bag?”

She tightened her grip on it. “Something I borrowed on the mission. Thought you might want it back before you start crying about it.”

His eyes dragged over her in an unhurried once-over, like he was deciding if the bag was worth the game. “You could’ve just given it to Huntrix.”

“I could’ve,” she agreed, stepping past him into the room before he could block her.

The air inside smelled like laundry detergent, aftershave, and something darker she couldn’t quite place. A few clothes draped over the chair, a half-empty water bottle on the desk. Cleaner than she expected for someone who thrived on irritating her.

“You’re welcome,” she said, dropping the bag on his bed.

He stayed in the doorway, watching her like she was the one intruding. “You always this polite to guys you threaten to kill?”

“Only the ones who ask for it.”

“That explains a lot.” He shut the door behind him — not loud, not locking it, but enough that the sound seemed to stretch between them. “You sure you’re not here for something else?”

She arched a brow. “And what would that be?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stepped closer, slow enough that she could’ve moved if she wanted to. The low light caught in his eyes, gold flickering faint at the edges.

“You’ll tell me if I’m wrong,” he said finally. “But I don’t think I am.”

She didn’t back up. Not when his shadow stretched over hers. Not when the faint heat of him reached her skin.
If anything, she tilted her chin like she dared him to keep going.

“That smirk,” she said, voice steady, “is going to get you killed one day.”

“Maybe,” he said, stopping close enough that the hem of her jacket brushed his shirt, “but you’ll be the one doing it, so I’m fine with that.”

Her lips twitched before she caught herself. “You’re infuriating.”

“Compliments this early in the night? Careful, Princess, I might think you like me.”

She scoffed. “I like winning . Big difference.”

“Mm.” His gaze dropped — not low enough to be obvious, but low enough she felt it — then slid back up. “And how exactly do you win here?”

She took a slow step forward. It was barely anything, but it forced him back just enough for his calves to hit the edge of the bed. “By making you sweat.”

His laugh was soft, disbelieving. “You think you can?”

She let her fingertips ghost over the seam of his sleeve. “I know I can.”

That finally cracked his composure. His breath caught — barely — but enough for her to feel the shift in the air. He leaned down just enough for his voice to scrape low. “Careful, Rumi. You start something, you’d better finish it.”

“Promise I will,” she said.

They stood there for a beat too long, her hand still at his arm, his gaze locked on hers. The tension wasn’t humming anymore — it was thrumming, like a string pulled tight enough to snap.

“Hands,” she said suddenly.

His brows lifted. “What?”

“Where I can see them.”

A smirk curved his mouth. “Careful, Princess — keep this up and we’ll both need safewords.”

“Try me,” she repeated.

And just like in the bathhouse, he obeyed — slowly, deliberately — lifting his hands to where she could see them. Not breaking eye contact once.

Her lips curved slow, deliberate — the kind of smile that said she’d already won, and he was just now figuring it out.
“Good,” she murmured, circling him like she was checking the sharpness on a blade. “Now keep them there.”

Jinu’s smirk didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened. “And if I don’t?”

She stepped into his space again, the faint brush of her knee against his like a warning and a promise. “Then you find out how fast I can put you back on the floor.”

His eyes lit — gold catching in the dim light like he’d love nothing more. “That supposed to scare me?”

“No,” she said, letting her fingers trail over the slope of his shoulder, down the solid line of his arm until her palm hovered just above his wrist. “It’s supposed to make you behave.”

He hummed, the sound curling deep in his chest. “You think you’ve got me figured out, Princess?”

“I know I do.” Her nails scraped lightly over the inside of his forearm, just enough to make him tense — then she stepped around behind him, her breath brushing the back of his neck. “The trick with you is you like rules. You just want to be the one breaking them.”

That got her a quiet laugh, low and begrudging. “Maybe I like the person making the rules.”

Her mouth brushed his ear. “Then you’d better learn to follow them.”

Jinu swallowed, his hands still obedient where she’d told him to keep them. But his voice came out lighter, teasing — still testing. “What if I get… distracted?”

“That’s the point.” She moved in front of him again, close enough to watch the rise and fall of his chest. Her hand dragged slowly from his collarbone down the center of his shirt, pausing right where his breath hitched. “I want you twitchy. On edge. Wondering if I’m going to make you wait or finally give you what you want.”

His pupils had gone wide, the thin ring of gold almost glowing. “You’re—”

“Careful,” she cut in. “Flattery might get you somewhere.”

“And if I beg?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was this close to breaking.

Her smile was pure trouble. “Then I’ll know I’ve won.”

“Won?” Jinu’s voice was soft but sharp, like he was tasting the word. “You’re assuming I’m gonna lose.”

She tilted her head, studying him — the way his shoulders pressed back into the wall like he was choosing not to move, the way his fingers flexed at his sides every time she got too close. “You already have.”

Before he could argue, her hand shot down to her bag on the floor. His gaze tracked the movement — curious — until she pulled out a coil of rope, the dark weave spilling over her fingers like she’d been waiting for this.

His eyebrows lifted, slow. “You… brought that here?”

She shrugged like it was nothing, stepping back into his space. “I like to be prepared.”

“For what?”

“For you,” she said simply, letting the rope brush over his chest as she circled him again. “Hands.”

His lips curved, but he didn’t move. “And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll tie you up anyway.”

That earned her a laugh — short, breathy, and way too pleased. “God, you’re hot when you threaten me.”

She didn’t give him a chance to keep talking. Her hands caught his wrists, pushing them up above his head until his palms flattened against the wall. The motion was fast enough to make him grunt, the solid weight of her body pinning him there.

“You always this bossy?” he asked, his grin sharp even as she looped the rope around one wrist.

“Only when it works.” She tightened the knot with a firm pull, just enough to make his breath catch. “And right now? It’s working.”

He tested the give — a subtle tug that only made the rope bite a little deeper. “Guess I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s the point.” She moved to the other wrist, slow this time, letting her fingers drag along his forearm before binding it to the first. “Keep your hands here, or I stop.”

His jaw flexed. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Something in his expression shifted — still smug, still dangerous — but his voice dropped low. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

“Oh, I do.” She gave the rope one last tug, sealing him in place, then stepped back just enough to look at him — arms bound, chest rising a little too fast, gold flaring in his eyes. “Now let’s see how long you last like this.”

He looked good like this.
Too good.

Hands bound above his head, wrists wrapped in rope that framed the tendons and muscle of his forearms, chest stretching the black fabric of his shirt every time he breathed in a little too deep. His hair was falling into his eyes again — the kind of mess she wanted to make worse — and his mouth… God, his mouth was already set in that infuriating little smirk.

“Comfortable?” she asked, stepping close enough for her shadow to swallow his.

He tilted his head, gold flickering in his gaze. “You want me to lie or tell you I’ve never been harder in my life?”

Her lips curved, slow. “We’ll stick with the truth for now.”

She let her fingers skim over his chest — light enough to be a ghost of a touch, dragging over the damp heat of his shirt where it clung from the earlier fight. She didn’t rush. She traced the line of his collarbone, down over the curve of his pec, pausing just long enough for him to twitch under her hand before moving lower.

“You’re taking your time,” he murmured, voice pitched low like he thought he could bait her into hurrying.

She smiled without looking at him, nails scraping lightly down his ribs until she felt the sharp catch of his breath. “You say that like I don’t know exactly what I’m doing.”

His head tipped back against the wall, a quiet laugh slipping out. “Bossy and cocky. Dangerous combination.”

“Mm,” she hummed, letting her hand slide lower, over the cut of his stomach, stopping just shy of where his belt sat. “You like dangerous.”

He didn’t answer right away — not until she let her thumb brush his waistband. “Yeah,” he said finally, voice tight. “Guess I do.”

She stepped in closer, so close her thigh pressed against his. “Good. Then you’ll love this part.”

Rumi’s free hand came up to his jaw, fingers curling there to keep his gaze locked on hers. “I want you to watch me,” she said softly, a command disguised as a request.

His pupils blew wide. “Yes, Princess.”

That earned him a sharp tug on the rope — not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him he wasn’t going anywhere. Then she shifted, pressing the length of her body against his, dragging herself over him slow enough to make his head tip back and his jaw clench.

“Still think you’re in control?” she murmured against his ear.

“I—” His voice cracked when she rolled her hips just enough to let him feel the line of her. “Maybe not.”

Her smile was wicked, her hand sliding up under his shirt now, palm flat against the heat of his skin. “Good boy.”

That pulled a sound from him — low, almost involuntary — and she felt the way his muscles tightened under her touch.

“Careful,” he warned, though it came out more like a plea. “You keep that up and—”

“And what?” She tilted her head, feigning innocence while her nails scraped lightly up his stomach. “You’ll break?”

His smirk returned, faint but stubborn. “Never.”

“Mm. We’ll see.”

She dragged her mouth over the edge of his jaw, not kissing, not biting — just close enough that her breath hit his skin and made his shoulders twitch. Her fingers kept moving, exploring, touching everywhere but exactly where he wanted.

The gold in his eyes flared hotter. “You’re killing me.”

“Not yet,” she whispered, lips grazing the corner of his mouth. “But I’m thinking about it.”

“Rumi—”
Her name in his mouth came out like a warning, but she heard the slip — the rough edge under it, the way it caught low in his throat.

She dragged her palm up his chest, slow, like she had all the time in the world. “Mm?”

His wrists flexed against the rope, a faint strain in the knot. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

She leaned in, lips brushing his ear without touching. “That’s the point.”

The inhale he took was sharp, controlled — too controlled. She wanted to ruin that. Her hand trailed lower again, fingertips grazing the waistband of his pants, dipping under the fabric just enough to feel the heat there.

His breath hitched. “Princess…”

“Say it.”

He blinked down at her, lashes lowering like he was trying to hide how much she’d already unraveled him. “Say what?”

“That you want it.” She tilted her head, smiling like a cat that had cornered something. “Out loud.”

His jaw tightened. “You already know—”

“That’s not the game.” She stepped in even closer, enough that the front of her body molded against his, one thigh pressing between his. “Say it, or I stop.”

For a second, he didn’t breathe. Then— “I want it.”

She arched a brow. “Want what?”

His eyes flashed gold again. “You.” It came out low, almost bitten off, like he hated giving her the satisfaction.

She rewarded him anyway — slow, deliberate pressure of her hips rolling against his. His head tipped back against the wall, a groan slipping past his teeth before he could catch it.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her free hand sliding up to his jaw, tilting it so he had to look at her. “See how easy that was?”

He swallowed hard. “You’re—” He broke off when her thumb traced his lower lip.

“I’m what?” she pressed.

“Perfect. Infuriating. Dangerous.” His smirk tried to hold, but it faltered when she dragged her nails down his stomach again. “And I’m—” His breath shuddered. “I’m two seconds from begging.”

Her smile deepened. “Then beg.”

“Rumi—”

“Beg.”

It hit him then — she wasn’t going to let him win this part. Not yet. His jaw clenched, then loosened, like he was surrendering in stages. “Please.”

The way he said it — low, desperate, all that bratty arrogance finally cracked — made something in her pulse hard enough to feel in her teeth.

“Good boy,” she whispered again, and this time she didn’t stop touching him.

His eyes locked on hers, molten and unblinking. “You have no idea what you’ve started.”

Her smirk was razor sharp. “Oh, I do. I just want to see if you can handle it.”

The rope creaked faintly as his wrists pulled once more against the restraint, testing, like he was counting the seconds until he could flip the script. But for now, he stayed exactly where she’d put him — and she intended to make the most of it.

The next sound was not human.

Low and guttural, it rumbled out of his chest before he could stop it — a predator’s warning wrapped in pleasure. The gold in his eyes flared, swallowing the brown until it was molten, bright enough to catch on the curve of his fangs as they pushed fully into view.

She felt the vibration of it under her palm where it rested against his ribs, a deep tremor that didn’t just warn — it promised.

“Jinu—” she started, but the rope gave way before she could finish.

It wasn’t neat. It didn’t snap like some stage trick; it tore under the sudden, brutal strain, fibers giving with a sharp, splintering pop. His freed hands caught the wall on either side of her head before she had the chance to step back.

“Game’s over, Princess,” he said, voice rougher now, edged with something feral.

Her breath caught — not in fear, but because the proximity was dizzying. He’d closed the distance in one move, his chest brushing hers, heat radiating like he’d been holding it back the whole time.

“Hands where I want them—” she began, but his mouth was already at her ear.

“You had your turn.” His breath was hot, the tip of a fang grazing her skin as he spoke. “Now it’s mine.”

Her back hit the wall in the next heartbeat, his thigh sliding between hers in the same motion he used to pin her wrists high above her head. His grip wasn’t cruel, but it was solid — unshakable.

“You think I can’t handle it?” he asked, leaning in until his lips brushed her jaw.

Her voice came out steadier than she felt. “Prove me wrong.”

That earned her a laugh, low and wicked. His hips pressed in, the solid line of him grinding against her in a rhythm that made her pulse kick. “Careful,” he warned, though it sounded more like a promise. “I’ll make you eat those words.”

“You’d have to catch me first.”

“Oh, I’ve caught you.” His head tilted, fangs glinting as his mouth found the curve of her neck. He didn’t bite — not yet — but the sharp scrape of enamel made her knees twitch. “And I’m not letting go.”

She tested his grip, flexing against the wall, but he only tightened his hold. The brat in him was still there, simmering under the surface, but now it was layered with something hungrier, more deliberate.

“You like being in control,” he murmured, dragging his mouth up to her ear. “So do I. The difference is—” His hips rolled in a slow, devastating grind. “—I’m better at it.”

Her laugh was breathless. “Debatable.”

“Not for long.”

Her wrists strained once under his grip, testing, and his answering smirk was infuriating. “Still trying to get away?” he asked, even though she hadn’t moved an inch from where he pinned her.

“I could if I wanted to,” she shot back.

“Then why aren’t you?” His voice dropped, almost a growl now.

She bit her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, pressing his thigh harder between hers until her breath caught. His free hand slid down, slow and deliberate, tracing the side of her body like he was memorizing the curve of it.

“Jinu—”

“You started this, Princess,” he said, cutting her off, “and you’ve been driving me insane since the second you put your hands on me in that bathhouse. So here’s what’s going to happen—” He leaned in until his forehead rested against hers, voice low and sure. “You’re not moving until I’m done with you.”

Her pulse kicked at the certainty in his tone, but she lifted her chin anyway. “You think you can keep me here?”

He grinned, and it was all fang. “Watch me.”

Then his mouth was on hers — not coaxing, not careful, but deep and consuming, teeth catching her lower lip as his hips pinned her harder to the wall. The sheer intent behind it made her knees weaken.

Her wrists were still caught above her head, his fingers locked around them like iron. He used the leverage to drag her body against his, slow enough to make her feel every inch of the press between them, fast enough to keep her from regaining control.

When he finally broke the kiss, his mouth trailed hot along her jaw, down her neck. “You gonna tell me to stop?” he murmured against her skin.

She swallowed hard. “Not yet.”

“Good,” he said, biting down just enough to make her gasp — a sharp sting softened by the heat of his tongue immediately after. “Because I’m not done proving my point.”

She tried to twist her hands free just to see if he’d loosen up, but he didn’t budge. Instead, his other hand gripped her thigh, hauling it higher until it hooked around his hip, forcing her open to him.

“See?” His eyes burned gold when he looked at her again. “Better at it.”

“You’re insufferable,” she breathed, but the way her hips shifted against his betrayed her.

He laughed — low, rough, and so smug it made her want to bite him just to shut him up. “And you love it.”

He didn’t give her time to think — just stepped in closer, crowding her until her back scraped against the wall again. His hand stayed locked around her wrists, the other gripping her thigh tight enough to leave marks.

“Move,” he ordered.

She arched a brow. “Kind of hard with you pinning me.”

“Guess you’ll have to let me help, then.”

The smirk he gave her was pure trouble as he released her thigh only to hook his arm around her waist, hauling her away from the wall. She stumbled, but he moved with her, guiding her backward like he’d been planning it all along. Every step pressed her into him, made her feel the heat and solid weight of him without giving her a single inch of space.

“You’re acting like you’ve done this before,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Oh, I have,” he said, voice dipping into something darker, “but not with someone who can actually keep up.”

Her pulse jumped, but she still found enough bite to shoot back, “You sure about that? You were the one begging five minutes ago.”

That got her a sharp laugh — the kind that said she’d just made it worse for herself. “Yeah,” he said, leaning in so close she could feel the brush of his lips without him touching her, “and now you’re gonna find out what that earns you.”

Her calves bumped the edge of the bed, and before she could process it, he spun them. She hit the mattress on her back, wrists still caught in one of his hands.

The other braced beside her head as he leaned over, the faint gold in his eyes catching on the sweat-dark strands of hair falling into his face. “Still think you’re in charge?”

She didn’t answer — just pulled at her wrists again.

His grip tightened, and he grinned like he’d been waiting for that. “Yeah,” he murmured, “you like it when I don’t let go.”

Then he kissed her — not soft, not sweet, but deep enough to make her toes curl, his free hand dragging slow from her jaw to her throat before pressing her back into the mattress. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to keep her exactly where he wanted her.

Her breath hitched, and he felt it.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice going low and rough. “I want you to let out all those pretty little noises for me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re awfully bossy for someone who was tied up a minute ago.”

His smirk deepened. “And you’re awfully mouthy for someone about to lose this round.”

now, licking at the edges of his pupils until it looked like he could barely hold it in.

“Careful,” she murmured, tilting her head like she wasn’t impressed. “You’re starting to look—”

The rope gave with a sharp crack.

She didn’t even have time to finish before his wrists were free and he had her pinned again — both hands braced on either side of her head, his weight pressing her down into the mattress like gravity had suddenly doubled.

“—dangerous,” she finished, her breath hitching.

“Good,” he said. His voice was different now — deeper, almost resonant, like the demon was right there under his skin. “You should see me like this.”

She felt his fangs graze the curve of her jaw as he leaned down, not biting, just testing. “Still wanna tell me where to put my hands?”

Her smirk stayed, but her thighs pressed tighter around his hips. “Try me.”

The growl he gave was low and primal, and then he was everywhere — mouth dragging down her throat, hands gripping her thighs and hauling her to the edge of the bed so he could stand between her knees. His strength was unrestrained now, every movement rough enough to make her heart stutter but controlled enough that she knew he’d never cross a line she didn’t want him to.

“Hands,” she started — but then his palm slid up under her shirt, hot against her stomach, and she lost the thread.

“Yeah,” he rasped, like he’d heard the unspoken permission. His other hand found the hem of her skirt, bunching it high enough that the air between them went electric. “Say it again.”

She met his gaze, steady even now. “Hands.”

They clamped around her hips, pulling her flush against him. She could feel him — hard, straining — even through the last thin layers between them.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” he said, and then his mouth was back on hers, stealing the rest of her air in a kiss that was all teeth and want.

When she arched into him, he laughed against her lips — breathless, wrecked. “Yeah, that’s it. Give it back.”

His fangs scraped her lower lip as his hips rolled into hers, the weight and heat of him making her toes curl in her boots. Her fingers found his hair, yanking it back just to see his face — the sharp lines of his jaw, the flush on his cheeks, the gleam in his eyes that said the demon was running the show now.

“Better,” she breathed, and that earned her a groan deep in his chest.

“Gonna ruin you,” he promised, and it didn’t sound like a threat — it sounded like a vow.

Then he was pushing her back up the bed, crawling over her with deliberate, unhurried control, his hands roaming like he was mapping every inch he’d been denied until now. His knee pressed between her thighs, spreading them until he could fit there, heavy and sure, and when he ground down this time, the sound she made had him cursing low in his native tongue.

“Say it again,” he demanded, voice wrecked now. “Tell me you want it.”

She held his gaze. “I want it.”

His smirk came back — dangerous, knowing — and then he was kissing her like he meant to keep her there until she couldn’t remember her own name.

He didn’t rush — not now that he had her right where he wanted her. If anything, the fact that she was still watching him like she might take it back at any second only made him slow down more. His mouth dragged over the edge of her jaw, to her throat, down to the hollow between her collarbones.

Her back arched when his fangs grazed her skin — not breaking, just enough to make her pulse jump.

“Scared?” he asked against her neck, voice low enough to vibrate through her chest.

She huffed out a laugh. “You wish.”

That earned her a sharp grind of his hips, the ridge of him slotting perfectly against her. She bit back the sound that wanted to escape, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders.

“Keep that up,” he warned, “and I’ll—”

“What?” she cut in, smirking even as her thighs tightened around him. “Lose control?”

The look he gave her was molten. “That’s the idea.”

His hands slid down, cupping under her thighs, and he lifted — just enough to drag her closer to the edge of the bed so he could strip the last barriers between them. The sound of fabric tearing was quick, almost careless, and the growl that followed when he saw her — bare, ready, already slick for him — went straight to her stomach.

“Fuck, Rumi—” His thumb traced over her hipbone like he needed the anchor. “You’re—” He stopped himself, shook his head, smirked. “No. You know exactly what you are.”

“Say it anyway,” she challenged, breath catching as his knuckles skimmed up her inner thigh.

He leaned down, eyes locked on hers. “Perfect.”

He leaned in closer, voice dropping to something rougher, more dangerous. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you in that leather suit… pinning me down… blade to my throat.” His eyes flicked over her face, then lower, like he was seeing it again in real time. “You’ve never looked sexier.”

Then he pressed into her in one long, unbroken thrust, burying himself so deep her nails scraped the sheets.

The sound she made was caught between a gasp and a curse. His jaw clenched, his fangs fully out now, every line of his body tight with the effort of not moving too soon.

“Rumi…” It came out like a prayer and a warning all at once.

“Move,” she breathed.

He did — slow at first, letting her feel every inch, then harder, deeper, until the bedframe complained and her breath was coming in ragged pulls. His hands never stopped moving — gripping her hips, sliding up her sides, one palm splayed over her chest to keep her anchored as he drove into her again.

“Still think you’re in charge?” he panted against her mouth.

She smirked, even as her head tipped back. “Always.”

He laughed, but it was wrecked now, his rhythm faltering for a beat before snapping back harder. “Then you’re in trouble, Princess.”

She hooked her legs around his waist, pulling him in closer, tighter, until he groaned deep in his chest. “You talk too much.”

“Then shut me up,” he challenged, and she did — kissing him hard enough to steal the breath from both of them, her hands in his hair, tugging until he growled against her lips.

The pace turned messy after that — less about control, more about chasing the high they’d been circling for weeks. Every thrust hit deeper, sharper, the sound of skin and breath and low, helpless noises filling the room.

When she clenched around him, his eyes flashed gold so bright it felt like heat against her skin.

“Right there,” she gasped.

“Yeah?” His voice cracked, his hips snapping harder. “Then don’t you dare stop looking at me.”

She didn’t. Couldn’t. Not when his face was all flushed heat and blown pupils, hair falling wild into his eyes.

The tension broke all at once — her back arching, nails digging deep into his shoulders as she came hard, the sound of his name spilling from her lips before she could stop it.

That was it for him. He pressed in deep, hips stuttering, and let the wave take him — a growl rumbling up from somewhere low and primal as he spilled into her.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, just breathing like they’d both been running.

Finally, he eased back enough to look at her — hair a mess, lips kiss-swollen, eyes still sharp even now.

“Still think you let me win?” he asked.

She smirked, pushing a damp strand of hair off his forehead. “Obviously.”

He laughed once, breathless, before leaning down to kiss her again — slow this time, deliberate. “You’re still strong,” he murmured against her mouth, and this time it wasn’t a taunt.

The room was too quiet for a minute — just the sound of their breathing, the faint tick of cooling metal from somewhere in the wall, and the low hum of her pulse in her ears.

He didn’t move right away. Just stayed braced above her, weight balanced on his forearms like he wasn’t quite ready to let her go.

Her fingers were still curled loosely in his hair, not tugging now — just idly combing through the sweat-damp strands until he leaned into it like some big, smug cat.

“You’re staring,” she said after a moment.

“Yeah.” His voice was still rough, but steady now. “Memorizing.”

She snorted. “What, so you can brag about it to the others?”

He gave her a lazy smirk, shaking his head. “So I don’t forget. In case you make me wait before you let me do that again.”

Her mouth curved, but she didn’t take the bait. “Smart boy. You learn fast.”

He finally eased off her, collapsing onto the bed beside her with a sigh that was half-exhausted, half-satisfied. For a while, they just lay there — her catching her breath, him tracing idle shapes against her hip with the tips of his fingers like he wasn’t ready for the contact to stop.

“You’re still strong,” he said quietly after a while.

Her head turned, one brow lifting. “Still? You think this was a test?”

He smirked sideways at her. “If it was, you passed.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tucked into it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe.” He propped himself up on an elbow, leaning in until his mouth hovered just above hers. “But you like it.”

She held his gaze for a beat too long before murmuring, “Still proving my point.”

His answering laugh was low, warm — the kind that worked its way under her skin. And before she could overthink it, he kissed her again.

Not rushed. Not claiming. Just enough to make her remember exactly why she’d let herself get tangled up with him in the first place.

When they finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers. “Next time,” he said softly, “I’m not letting you walk away first.”

Her smirk returned. “We’ll see.”

But later, when she was back in her own bed, her phone buzzed with his name on the screen — just a single message.

Jinu : still buzzing.

when’s the next time i get to have you to myself?

And damn it, it made her smile.