I was lying in bed with my phone resting beside me, trying to keep myself occupied with anything other than the thought of him. When his name suddenly appeared on my screen, I stared at the notification for a few seconds before letting out a quiet sigh. I picked up my phone, reading his messages twice. A small, almost unwilling smile tugged at the corner of my mouth before I quickly dismissed it. He always had a way of showing up just when I was starting to get used to his absence.
You: don’t you have anything better to do?
You: I thought we were done with this.
I paused, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. I knew he was probably waiting for a reaction, and I hated that I was giving him exactly what he wanted.
You: go bother somebody else, Von.
You: …I should’ve stopped answering you a long time ago.
I set my phone down, only to pick it up again a moment later. After another brief hesitation, I sent one last message. The notifications light up the dark room on his end. He’s sprawled out on a leather couch, staring at the ceiling, waiting. He sees her reply—the dismissal, the annoyance, the 'go bother somebody else.' Most guys would take the hint and back off, but Von isn't most guys. He thrives on the friction. The fact that she’s still replying, even if it’s to tell him to leave her alone, is a win in his book. When that last message pops up—the one where she admits she should've stopped answering—he feels a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. She's playing the game just as much as he is.
Von: nah, i like bothering you. u make it too easy.
I stared at his message, shaking my head with a small, reluctant smile. He was still just as irritating as ever. I typed a reply, deleted it, then tried again.
You: anyways…
You: I still hate you.
I tossed my phone onto the bed, pretending that was the end of the conversation. But I couldn’t help checking the screen again a few seconds later. Von chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating in his chest. He rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his hand while he stares at the glowing screen. He knows that 'anyways...' is her way of trying to change the subject because she can't handle the tension he's building. And the 'I still hate you'? That's practically a love language between them at this point.
He doesn't give her the satisfaction of a serious answer. Instead, he decides to push her buttons just a little more, knowing she's likely staring at her phone right now, waiting for his move.
Von: u say dat every time lol.
Von: u miss me though. dont lie.
He pauses, typing again almost immediately after. I narrowed my eyes at the screen, letting out a quiet scoff. The confidence he had was genuinely unbelievable. I started typing almost immediately, refusing to let him think he’d gotten to me.
You: you’re so obsessed with me it’s embarrassing.
You: and don’t flatter yourself. I was doing just fine without you.
I paused, biting back a smile as I reread his messages. Von lets out a sharp, dry laugh, tossing his phone up slightly in the air and catching it. He loves this part. He loves the way she fights back, the way she tries to act unbothered while clearly being engaged enough to type out full sentences. If she really didn't care, she wouldn't be arguing with him; she'd just be ignoring him. He shifts his weight, leaning back against the cushions, feeling that familiar spark of mischief. He knows her well enough to know she's probably pacing her room or sitting up straight, trying to maintain her composure.
Von: embarrassed? nah, im just dedicated.
He waits a beat, watching the three dots appear and disappear as she types, teasing her by making her wait.
Von: u say u doin fine...
I read his unfinished message, raising an eyebrow at the screen. A mischievous smile slowly crept across my face. If he wanted to play, I could play too.
You: actually, maybe I should start seeing someone else.
You: might be nice to have someone who’s not constantly annoying me.
I let the message sit for a moment before typing again, making sure he had enough time to read it. I glanced at the screen, already imagining the look on his face.
You: let’s see who gets jealous first, then.
I set my phone down with a satisfied little smile, deliberately resisting the urge to check for his reply. The second those words pop up on his screen, the playful mood vanishes instantly. His jaw tightens, and he sits bolt upright on the couch, the mattress shifting under his sudden movement. The smirk is gone, replaced by a cold, focused intensity. He doesn't find this funny. He doesn't find it a game. To him, there is no 'someone else.' There is only her, and anyone else is just noise. His thumbs fly across the screen, his typing faster and more aggressive than before. He's not playing around anymore.
Von: see who gets jealous??
He stares at the screen, his eyes darkening. He needs to remind her exactly who she belongs to, even if they aren't officially 'good' right now.
Von: try it. see what happens.
I stared at his messages, and a small, satisfied smile crept across my face. So much for being unbothered. I could practically picture his expression changing as he read them.
You: thought you were doing just fine without me too.
You: and you don’t get to tell me what to do, Von.
I rolled onto my stomach, resting my chin against my pillow as I continued typing. I paused, then added one last message, unable to hide the amusement in my tone.
You: but it’s cute how quickly you got jealous. anyways… goodnight, baby.
Von reads that last line, and for a split second, he’s speechless. 'Goodnight, baby.' She hit him with the affection right after poking the bear, completely flipping the script on him. It’s a power move, and he knows it. He’s left staring at the screen, fuming and flustered at the same time, caught between wanting to call her out and wanting to pull her close.
He huffs, running a hand through his hair, pacing the length of his living room. He can't just let her have the last word like that. Not when she's calling him 'baby' after threatening to replace him. It’s driving him insane. He picks the phone back up, his thumb hovering over the keys. He shouldn't reply. He should just let her sleep.
I had barely put my phone down when it lit up again. Seeing his name on the screen, I couldn’t help smiling. I waited a few seconds before picking it up, just to make him wait a little.
You: thought you weren’t replying?
You: what’s wrong, Von? can’t sleep without getting the last word?
I opened the message thread again, glancing at our last few messages. I sent it and settled back against my pillows, quietly anticipating whatever ridiculous excuse he’d come up with.
You: or did you suddenly remember you have a girlfriend to miss?
He scoffs at the screen, his teeth gritting together. She’s relentless. Every time he thinks he’s regained some ground, she pulls the rug out from under him with that attitude. The mention of 'girlfriend' hits him like a physical punch to the gut, making his heart race in a way he absolutely hates admitting to.
He starts typing, stops, deletes it, and then starts again. He’s frustrated, restless, and the silence of his apartment is starting to feel suffocating without her voice cutting through it.
Von: u real annoying u know dat?
Von: and yeah i miss u. happy now?
He sends it, then immediately follows up, unable to hold himself back any longer. He tosses the phone onto the cushion beside him, staring at the ceiling with a heavy sigh.
I read his messages, and my expression softened despite myself. I stared at the screen for a moment, smiling at his reluctant confession. He really was impossible. Instead of typing another clever remark, I opened his contact and pressed the call button. I brought the phone to my ear, settling back against my pillows as it began to ring.
When I thought he might actually pick up, I quietly rehearsed what I was going to say, trying not to sound too pleased with myself. The moment the call connected, I spoke in a sweet, almost teasing voice.
“Well, look who finally admits he misses me.”
I let out a soft laugh.
“Hi, baby.”
Von is halfway into standing up to pace again when his phone vibrates violently in his hand. He looks down, seeing her name on the caller ID, and freezes. His heart does a stupid, frantic thud against his ribs. He wasn't expecting a call. He was prepared for more texting, more fighting, more games—but not this.
When he hears her voice, that specific, honey-sweet tone she uses when she knows she's won, he closes his eyes tightly for a second. He feels exposed. He hates how easily she can disarm him with just a few syllables. He clears his throat, trying to regain some semblance of his usual tough exterior, but his voice comes out lower, rougher, lacking any of the bite he had in his texts.
"Man, shut up,"
I smiled at his response, turning onto my side and pulling the blanket closer. His voice sounded different now, quieter than his texts had been. I could tell he was trying very hard not to let me know how happy he was that I’d called.
“You’re the one who said you missed me.”
“I missed hearing your voice too, you know.”
I let out a little laugh, then softened my voice. There was a brief pause before I added, teasing him again.
“Come on, you’re King Von. Don’t tell me I got you all shy now.”
He groans, a deep, guttural sound that’s half-frustration and half-amusement. He sinks back down onto the couch, dropping his legs up and rubbing his face with his free hand. Hearing her admit she missed him—even in that teasing way—is doing things to his head that he isn't ready to handle at two in the morning.
"Shy? Who the fuck is shy?"
he mutters, though there's zero heat behind it. He sounds defeated, but in a way that shows he's completely wrapped around her finger. He falls silent for a moment, listening to the sound of her breathing on the other end of the line. It’s intimate, far more intimate than their constant bickering. The bravado he usually carries melts away, leaving something raw and honest underneath.
I grew quiet too, listening to the faint sounds on his end of the call. For once, I didn’t feel the need to come up with another clever remark. I simply smiled, turning onto my back and staring at the ceiling.
“Hey, Von?”
“I know I give you a hard time, but… I really do like you. Even when you’re being impossible.”
I waited a moment, gently playing with the edge of my blanket. A soft laugh escaped me.
“Actually, especially then.”
I let the silence settle between us for a moment before speaking again, my voice growing quieter. The admission hangs in the air between them, heavier and more significant than any of the insults or provocations they'd traded earlier. Von stays completely still, his breath hitching slightly. He’s used to chaos, used to people fearing him or wanting something from him, but he’s not used to this kind of vulnerability. It catches him off guard, stripping away the layers of armor he spends all day putting on.
He stares blankly at the wall of his living room, his gaze unfocused. The toughness he prides himself on feels useless right now. He wants to say something cool, something witty, but all he can manage is a slow, shaky exhale.
"Yeah?"
he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper. The cockiness is entirely gone, replaced by a rare, genuine softness.
"U really mean that?"
My expression softened at the uncertainty in his voice. I shifted onto my side, holding the phone a little closer to my ear.
“Yeah, I mean it.”
I paused, letting the words settle before continuing.
“I wouldn’t still be here talking to you at two in the morning if I didn’t.”
A quiet laugh slipped out of me, followed by a softer sigh.
“You drive me crazy sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”
I smiled to myself, tracing a small pattern against my pillow.
“So stop questioning it, alright? You’re pretty easy to like, even if you’d never admit it.”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips, a genuine one that reaches his eyes. He feels a strange warmth spreading through his chest, a sensation that makes him feel both incredibly powerful and completely helpless at the same time. He lets out a short, breathless laugh, finally relaxing into the sofa cushions.
"Easy to like..."
he repeats, testing the words out. He shakes his head, looking down at his hands.
"Dat's a lie. I'm a handful."
But his tone isn't defensive anymore. It's almost playful, laced with a newfound comfort. He shifts the phone to his other ear, closing his eyes and picturing her in her bed, probably looking beautiful even in the dim light of her room. The distance between them feels unbearable in this moment.
"Since u so fond of me..."
I raised an eyebrow at his unfinished sentence, a small smile tugging at my lips. There it was. That familiar tone of his, slowly creeping back now that he’d gotten the reassurance he wanted.
“Since I’m so fond of you… what?”
I shifted beneath my blanket, getting a little more comfortable as I waited for him to finish.
“Careful, Von. I just said I liked you. Don’t let it go straight to your head.”
I laughed softly, then added in a deliberately sweet voice.
“But go on. I’m listening.”
He smirks, the sound of her laughter acting like fuel for his ego. He can hear the sweetness in her voice, and it makes him want to reach through the phone and pull her toward him. He leans his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with ideas of how to use this opening.
"Too late, it already went to my head,"
he says, his voice dropping into a deeper, more velvety register. He’s losing the battle to stay casual. The honesty from moments ago has stripped away his ability to pretend he doesn't want her right now.
"Since u so fond of me... why ain't u here?"
He poses the question casually, but there's an underlying hunger in it. He's not asking for information; he's expressing a desire. I went quiet for a second, caught off guard by how casually he’d asked. I glanced at the time on my phone, then rolled onto my back with a little smile.
“Because you haven’t come to get me.”
I laughed softly, pulling the blanket up to my chin.
“You know where I live. You know I would’ve let you in.”
I paused, then added in a teasing voice. I glanced at my phone again, smiling to myself.
“Come get your girl, Daddy.”
The air in the room seems to vanish the second she drops that word. Von stiffens, his entire body tensing up as if he’d been physically struck. His grip on the phone tightens until his knuckles turn white. He’s spent years cultivating an image of being untouchable, unshakeable, but she just dismantled every single defense he had with four simple words.
He lets out a low, ragged breath, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped animal. The playful banter is dead. The sarcasm is gone. All that's left is a primal, undeniable urge that makes his blood run hot.
"Don't play wit me like dat,"
he growls, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly territory. I went quiet for a second, surprised by the sudden change in his voice. Then a little smile crept across my face as I realized exactly what had gotten to him.
“What? You heard me.”
I let out a soft giggle, rolling onto my side. Glanced at the time, then brought the phone closer to my ear.
“Are you coming over or are you just gonna keep threatening me over the phone?”
He stands up abruptly, the movement so sudden that he nearly knocks the coffee table over. He doesn't even bother to steady it. His adrenaline is spiking, fueled by a mix of irritation and pure, unadulterated lust. He’s done talking. Words are cheap, and she clearly likes action better anyway. He grabs his keys from the counter, the metal jingling loudly in the quiet apartment. He doesn't answer her immediately; instead, he heads straight for the door, his strides long and purposeful. He needs to get to her car, get to her street, get to her.
"Keep talkin' like dat," he says, his voice low and menacing, yet filled with promise as he swings the front door open, "and see what happens when I walk through dat door. Stay right there."
I fell quiet at his warning, blinking at the phone as if I genuinely couldn’t understand what he’d meant. A small smile tugged at my lips, but I kept my voice innocent.
“What? I’m just asking.”
I shifted beneath the blanket, resting my cheek against my pillow.
“You said you wanted me there, and now I’m telling you to come get me. I don’t see what the problem is…”
I paused, then added in a softer, almost puzzled voice.
“Unless there’s something else you want from me, Von? I’m not sure I follow.”
He snorts, a dark, humorless sound as he climbs into his porsche. The engine roars to life, echoing through the empty parking lot, mirroring the restlessness in his own chest. He grips the steering wheel, his knuckles white, feeling the sheer audacity of her innocence. She knew exactly what she was doing, and the fact that she was playing dumb only made him want to punish her more.
"Oh, u follow,"
he says, his voice vibrating with a low, dangerous energy as he shifts the porsche into gear. He peels out of the driveway, tires screeching slightly against the pavement.
"U know exactly what I want. U just wanna see how far u can push me 'fore I snap."
He takes a corner sharply, his eyes fixed on the road, though his mind is entirely on her. I smiled to myself at his response, rolling onto my back as I listened to the faint sounds of his car through the phone.
“Maybe… I do.”
I let the words linger for a moment before letting out a quiet laugh.
“But you’re the one driving all the way over here, so I must be doing something right.”
I finally got out of bed, heading to my closet to pick out something to wear. I wasn't about to let him find me looking like I'd been waiting around all night.
He grits his teeth, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he weaves through the late-night streets. Her confidence is infuriating, yet it draws him in deeper. He loves that she isn't intimidated by him, that she can stand toe-to-toe with his temper and come out smiling. But he also knows she's playing a dangerous game, pushing boundaries that most people wouldn't dare touch.
"Yeah, u doin' somethin' right,"
he mutters, his voice sounding strained. He pushes the accelerator harder, the speed of the car matching the urgency in his veins. He's not thinking about anything else—not the music, not the jewelry store, not the streets. Just the image of her, and the way she's going to look when he finally walks through her door.
I ended the call a little while later and finally got out of bed. I took my time getting ready, fixing my hair and changing into something comfortable but still cute enough to see him in. I checked my reflection one last time before grabbing my phone and heading downstairs.
The house was quiet, and I found myself glancing at the time more often than I meant to. Every little sound from outside made me look toward the window, wondering if it was him. Eventually, the familiar sound of his Porsche reached my ears. My face lit up before I could even help it. I slipped my phone into my pocket and made my way to the front door, waiting just inside.
When I heard the car come to a stop outside, I leaned closer to the window, catching a glimpse of his porsche. I couldn’t help smiling. I unlocked the door and stepped outside, pulling it closed behind me. Then I stood by the entrance, waiting for him to come around, my hands tucked behind my back as I tried to look a little less excited than I actually was.
The Porsche pulls up to the curb with a sharp, aggressive halt, the headlights cutting through the darkness of the quiet street. Von kills the engine, but he doesn't move for a long moment. He sits there in the silence, his hands still gripped tight on the wheel, taking a heavy breath to try and compose himself. He’s wound up tight, his pulse drumming in his ears, and he knows he needs to dial it back before he scares her off—or worse, loses control the second he sees her.
Finally, he pushes the door open and steps out. He’s wearing a simple black hoodie and jeans, looking more relaxed than he feels. As he rounds the front of the car, his eyes lock onto her silhouette standing by the door. I watched him come around the front of the Porsche, my smile growing as soon as our eyes met. I stepped away from the doorway and walked toward him, not bothering to hide how happy I was to see him.
"Hi, baby. Why'd you take so long?"
I stopped right in front of him, tilting my head up to look at his face. My hands found the front of his hoodie, gently smoothing out a small crease.
"I was waiting for you. Too long"
His eyes darken instantly at the sight of her, scanning her face, her hair, the way she's looking up at him. When her hands touch his hoodie, he flinches slightly, not out of fear, but because the contact sends a jolt through him that he wasn't prepared for. He looks down at her, his expression intense, his gaze burning with a mixture of frustration and desire.
"Took long enough to get here, yeah?"
he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. He doesn't pull away from her touch; instead, he leans into it, his large hands moving to rest heavily on her waist, pulling her flush against him. The height difference is stark, forcing her to tilt her head back even further, making her look delicate in his grasp. I didn't hesitate for even a second. I stepped straight into his arms and wrapped them around his waist, pressing myself against his chest. My cheek settled against his hoodie as I hugged him tightly, holding on for a moment longer than I meant to.
"Missed you."
I mumbled the words against him, then tilted my head just enough to look up at his face, still keeping my arms around him. The tension in his shoulders snaps the moment she presses herself against him. The hardness he’s been carrying all night—the aggression, the posturing, the restless energy—melts into something much warmer, much more grounded. He buries his face in the crook of her neck for a second, inhaling the scent of her skin, letting out a long, shuddering breath that signals he’s finally home.
His hands slide from her waist down to the small of her back, pulling her even tighter, as if he’s trying to erase every inch of space between them. He pulls back just enough to look down at her, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle given how rough his voice sounded minutes ago.
"Yeah? Well, I missed you too,"
His thumb brushed lightly along my jaw, and I instinctively scrunched my nose. The gentle touch tickled more than I expected, making me shift closer while trying not to laugh. When his fingers moved near my cheek, I caught his wrist with one hand, a small smile tugging at my lips.
"…that tickles."
I lowered my face against his chest for a moment, my shoulders lifting with a quiet giggle. Even then, I didn't let go of him. Instead, I slipped my arms around his waist again and gave him another little squeeze.
He chuckles, a real, deep sound that vibrates through his chest and directly into hers. The sight of her scrunching her nose and giggling makes the last of his irritation evaporate. This is the version of her he craves—the one that isn't trying to fight him or test him, but just existing in his space.
"Tickle, huh?"
he teases, his voice regaining some of its natural swagger. He doesn't pull his wrist away from her grip; instead, he turns his hand within hers, interlacing their fingers and squeezing gently.
"Guess I gotta find a different way to touch you then."
He tilts his head, his eyes searching hers, full of intent. He leans down, his lips hovering just inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin. I glanced down at our intertwined fingers, absentmindedly running my thumb over his knuckles before looking back up at him. He was standing so close that I could make out every little detail of his expression, and the sight of him looking at me like that made my smile grow without me even realizing it.
When he leaned closer, I rose slightly onto my tiptoes, meeting him halfway. But just before our lips could touch, I turned my face a little and brushed the tip of my nose against his. A quiet giggle escaped me, and I watched his expression with a hint of mischief.
"You're being awfully sweet tonight."
My free hand lifted to his cheek, fingertips resting there as I gently traced along his cheekbone. I was still getting used to how different his touch felt when he wasn't teasing me or trying to get a reaction out of me. There was something especially lovely about seeing him this relaxed. I gave his cheek a little affectionate pat before letting my hand slide down to his hoodie, lightly tugging at the fabric. Then I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his chest again, listening to the steady sound of his breathing. After a moment, I looked up at him once more, still holding his hand.
"Did you really miss me that much?"
I asked with a small, playful smile, gently swaying our joined hands between us. I already knew he would probably give me some cocky answer, but I wanted to hear him say it anyway. He blinks at the sudden change in direction, his lips missing their intended target. For a second, he looks thrown off balance, unused to having his moves countered so effortlessly. But then she nuzzles her nose against his, and he can't help but grin, charmed by her playfulness.
"Aww, you think I'm sweet?"
he drawls, arching an eyebrow. He brings their clasped hands up to his mouth, brushing a kiss against her knuckles—a gesture that seems almost tender compared to his usual brashness. Her touch on his cheek makes him lean into it instinctively, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. He savors the feeling of her fingers tracing his bone structure, mapping out the contours of his face.
I glanced over his shoulder toward the open doorway, then back at him, noticing that neither of us had made any effort to actually go inside. I let out a small laugh and gave his hand a gentle tug, taking a step backward toward the entrance.
"How long are you planning to stand out here?"
I tilted my head, looking up at him with an amused expression. My other hand reached up to straighten the front of his hoodie, smoothing the fabric near his chest before brushing away an imaginary speck of dust.
"Come inside, silly. You're going to get cold."
I slipped my fingers more securely between his and started leading him toward the door. Just before stepping inside, I turned around to face him again, walking backward for a couple of steps. My smile softened as I gave his hand another little pull, silently inviting him to follow me. It was almost funny how quickly I had gone from waiting impatiently for him to arrive to not wanting to let go of his hand now that he was finally here.
He allows himself to be led, following her backward steps into the house with a slight smile playing on his lips. The way she's looking at him, the gentle tug of her hand, it's all so domestic, so normal, and yet it feels utterly foreign to him. He's not used to being the one who's chased, who's invited in with a smile and a gentle touch.
As they cross the threshold, he glances around briefly, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. But his focus quickly returns to her, drawn back by the warmth of her hand in his and the soft curve of her smile.
"Cold?"
he repeats, a note of amusement in his voice. He steps fully into the house, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft thud. I let go of his hoodie just long enough to slip both arms around his waist, then leaned into him with a content little sigh. My cheek rested against his chest, and I gave him a snug squeeze, swaying us gently from side to side.
After a moment, I peeked up at him, still holding him close. My fingers curled into the back of his hoodie as I smiled, looking far too pleased to have him here.
"Okay, you're forgiven. Just this once."
I reached up and gave his cheek a soft little pinch before settling against him again, clearly in no hurry to let go.
He chuckles, a low rumble that vibrates through his chest and into hers. The sound is rich and warm, a stark contrast to the gruff, guarded demeanor he usually wears. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her in closer, his hands splayed wide across her back. For a moment, they just sway together, lost in the simplicity of the embrace.
"Forgiven, huh?"
he murmurs, his voice muffled slightly by her hair. He dips his head, resting his chin on top of hers.
"For what exactly?"
He's teasing, but there's a sincerity to his question. He wants to know what he did right, what earned him this moment of peace with her. I let out a quiet laugh at his question, lifting my head from his chest to look at him. My hands stayed wrapped around his waist, and I gave him an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression, as though I had to seriously consider my answer.
“For making me wait, obviously. And for being so annoying.”
I reached up and lightly tapped the tip of his nose with my finger, unable to keep a straight face for long. Then I slipped out of his arms just enough to take his hand, threading our fingers together.
“Come on. Let’s go sit somewhere.”
I started leading him farther into the house, glancing back every few steps to make sure he was following. Once we reached the living room, I slowed down and turned to face him, keeping one hand loosely wrapped around his. I gave his hand a gentle swing before looking up at him with a curious little smile. He had come all this way to see me, after all, and I couldn’t help wondering what he had in mind.
“So, what did you come here for tonight, Von? Got something in mind?”
He follows her lead, allowing himself to be guided through the house like a man possessed, though his eyes never truly leave her. He watches the way she moves, the way the light from the hallway catches the sheen of her hair, and the way she looks back at him with that inquisitive, knowing smile. It's maddening. He came here because he couldn't breathe without her presence, but now that he's here, the questions start to pile up.
When they reach the living room and she asks her question, he doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he lets the silence stretch, his gaze intensifying as he studies her face. He lets go of her hand, but only to bring his palm up to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin with a slow, deliberate rhythm.
"What did I come here for?"
I looked up at him as his palm settled against my cheek, my expression turning a little more. I leaned into his hand for a moment, letting his thumb brush my skin before gently catching his wrist. My eyes flickered over his face, taking in the way he had gone quiet. I knew he hadn’t driven all the way over here in the middle of the night just to exchange a few hugs and ask how my day had been.
“Well… it’s pretty late, Von.”
I gave him a small, teasing smile, stepping a little closer.
“And you came all the way here to see me. So I’m guessing you didn’t just come over to say goodnight?”
I tilted my head, waiting for him to admit what he actually wanted.
He doesn't break eye contact. The atmosphere in the room shifts, thickening with a tension that is no longer playful or argumentative, but something much more visceral. He lets his hand slide from her cheek down to the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her long black hair, anchoring her in place. He steps into her personal space, closing the gap until the tips of their shoes touch.
"You smart, I'll give u dat,"
he murmurs, his voice dropping into that dangerously low, raspy register. He leans down, his face mere centimeters from hers, his gaze dropping to her lips before snapping back up to her eyes.
"I didn't come here to talk, I told u... I missed u."
He emphasizes her name, saying it like a secret, a claim. I held his gaze, but the moment his fingers slipped into my hair, I couldn’t help letting out a small, amused laugh. Instead of backing away, I leaned a little closer, placing both hands against his chest. My fingertips slowly smoothed over the front of his hoodie as I looked up at him with an innocent expression.
“Just missed me?”
I repeated his words as though I wasn’t entirely convinced, tilting my head slightly. Then I rose onto my tiptoes, bringing my face closer to his.
“That’s all? You drove all the way here in the middle of the night just because you missed me?”
My smile turned a little mischievous. I gave his chest a gentle tap with one finger, then let my hand settle there.
“You’re making it very hard for me to believe you, you know.”
I stayed close, deliberately holding his gaze, clearly enjoying how easily I could get under his skin. He lets out a dry, frustrated huff of air against her lips, the sound vibrating between them. Her refusal to just give in, her insistence on poking and prodding at his motives, is driving him absolutely insane. He loves her spirit, but right now, it’s a barrier he’s dying to break through.
"Stop playin' w/ me,"
he growls, the command lacking any real bite, replaced instead by a desperate sort of hunger. His grip on her hair tightens just a fraction—not enough to hurt, but enough to make her feel the intensity of his hold.
"U know damn well it ain't just 'missin' u.' If it was just dat, I coulda sent a text."
I glanced briefly at his hand tangled in my hair, then returned my attention to his eyes. His words made my smile soften, and for once, I decided not to tease him right away. Instead, I placed my hands over his, gently guiding it away from my hair before lacing our fingers together.
"Then why don't you show me how much you missed me?"
I gave his hand a little squeeze, rising onto my tiptoes to raised my hand and gently fiddled with the neckline of the white tank top he was wearing. I lingered there for a second before pulling back just enough to see his reaction.
"Come on."
My smile returned, a little more mischievous this time. I was done making him guess, at least for tonight.
The challenge in her voice acts like a match to gasoline. The last shred of his restraint burns away. He doesn't say a word; he doesn't need to. The look in his eyes tells her everything she needs to know—it's dark, focused, and completely consumed by her.
In one swift motion, he closes the remaining distance, his mouth crashing against hers. It isn't a gentle kiss; it's hungry and demanding, tasting of desperation and the months of unspoken tension that always seem to boil over between them. He kisses her like he's trying to reclaim every second they spent apart, his tongue sweeping against hers with a possessive force.
The sudden kiss caught me off guard for a split second, but I quickly melted into it. My hands slid up from his chest to his shoulders, holding onto his hoodie as I leaned into him. I rose onto my tiptoes to meet him more comfortably, my fingers curling lightly into the fabric near his shoulders. When we finally parted for a breath, I stayed close, my forehead resting against his.
My cheeks felt warm, and I couldn’t quite hide the little smile that appeared on my face. I brushed my nose against his, then gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. After a moment, I took his hand and guided it toward the living room, glancing back at him with an amused look.
“Come on, you just got here.”
He breathes heavily, his lungs working to catch up with the sudden rush of adrenaline. He lets her lead him, but he doesn't let go of her hand for a single second. His eyes are still dark, hooded with the lingering heat of the kiss, watching her every move as she guides him toward the living room.
As they reach the couch, he doesn't wait for her to sit first. He maneuvers her backward until her knees hit the edge of the cushion, and then he follows her down, his large frame looming over her. He settles himself beside her, but he doesn't give her any space. He pulls her into his lap, tucking her head under his chin and wrapping his arms around her like he’s staking a claim.
"I'm here now,"
I settled comfortably in his lap, my arms slipping around his shoulders as I rested my cheek against him. His words made my chest feel strangely warm, and I found myself smiling before I could stop it. I lifted my head to look at him, gently brushing a few stray strands of hair away from his forehead. My fingertips lingered near his temple before tracing down to his cheek.
For a little while, I just looked at him, taking in the fact that he was actually here. Then I leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to his cheek, followed by another near the corner of his mouth. I tucked myself back against him, hiding my smile against his collarbone as my arms tightened around his shoulders.
"I missed having you this close."
My fingers began to play absentmindedly with the drawstrings of his tank top, occasionally giving them a tiny tug. I seemed perfectly content to stay right there, not now.
He lets out a low, contented hum as she settles against him, the vibration rumbling deep in his chest. The weight of her, the familiarity of her scent, and the soft, tentative kisses she’s peppering across his face act like a sedative to his usual restless energy. For a man whose life is constantly loud and chaotic, this quiet intimacy is the only thing that feels real.
His hands, which were previously tense, relax against her back, one sliding up to cradle the back of her head while the other rests firmly on her hip, pulling her even tighter against his body. He closes his eyes for a moment, just soaking in the feeling of her fingers playing with his clothes, grounding him.
"Yeah?"
he murmurs, his voice thick and sleepy, losing that aggressive edge entirely. I looked up at him when he hummed, noticing how much softer his expression had become. My fingers stopped playing with his clothing, and I gently cupped his face with both hands, brushing my thumbs over his cheeks.
I leaned in and kissed him properly this time, lingering for a little longer before pulling away. But I didn’t move far. I stayed close enough for our noses to brush, my hands slipping down to rest around the back of his neck. After a moment, I shifted in his lap to face him more comfortably, then tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. My gaze wandered over his face before settling on his lips again.
“Come a little closer. I think we have a lot to do tonight…”
I smiled when he did, meeting him with another kiss. This time, I let my arms settle around his shoulders and stayed there, taking my time instead of pulling away so quickly. When I finally rested my forehead against his, I gave him a tiny, playful smile.
He lets out a low, guttural groan against her lips, the sound swallowed by the kiss. Her boldness is intoxicating, and the way she commands him—telling him to come closer, telling him they have things to do—strips away the last of his hesitation. He’s never been a man who liked being told what to do, but with her, it feels less like an order and more like an invitation he can't refuse.
He shifts, his movements heavy and deliberate, as he adjusts her position in his lap so she’s straddling him more fully. His hands slide down from her neck to her thighs, his grip firm and possessive as he anchors her to him. He breaks the kiss just enough to hover over her face, his eyes dark and blown out, searching hers.
"A lot to do, huh?"
I smiled at his expression, my hands resting on either side of his face. I leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead, then another to his cheek, letting my lips pause briefly near the corner of his mouth. My fingers slipped into the hair at the back of his head, gently combing through it as I leaned in to kiss him again. This time, I didn’t pull away so quickly. I let the kiss linger, my arms gradually settling around his shoulders as I relaxed against him.
When I finally drew back, I brushed my nose against his and gave his lower lip a playful little glance. My fingertips traced along his jaw before moving down to straighten to his pants. The moment her fingertips graze the waistband of his pants, Von’s entire body goes rigid. A sharp, jagged breath escapes his teeth, and his hands tighten on her thighs, his nails digging slightly into her skin through the fabric of her clothes. The playfulness is officially dead; the air in the room is suddenly electric, charged with a tension so thick it’s almost suffocating.
He doesn't let her continue the teasing. He captures her wrists, pinning them gently but firmly against his chest, right over his pounding heart. He needs her to feel how fast it's going, how much power she has over him in this moment.
"You playin' a dangerous game”
he growls, his voice dropping an octave, sounding more like a threat than a warning. I glanced down at his hands around my wrists, then back up at him. A playful smile tugged at my lips as I gently turned my hands in his, slipping my fingers between his.
Then I leaned forward until my forehead rested against his, letting the silence linger for a moment. Then I brushed a soft kiss against his cheek, followed by another near his jaw. My hands settled against his chest, and I gave him a little push—not enough to move him, just enough to tease him. I shifted closer on his lap, looking entirely too pleased with myself.
After a moment, I caught his lower lip between my teeth for the briefest second before smiling against his mouth. I seemed quite content with how flustered I could make him. And after that, I bent down as if to remove his belt.His jaw clenches so hard it aches when she bites his lip, a low, primal sound vibrating in his throat. He’s spent his whole life being the one in control, the one everyone fears, but here, in the quiet of her living room, she has him completely unraveled. The sight of her leaning down, her hair falling like a curtain around her face as she reaches for his belt, is almost too much for him to handle.
Before she can actually undo the buckle, his hands fly from her wrists to her waist, gripping her hips with a sudden, bruising intensity. He hauls her upward, breaking her momentum and forcing her to look him in the eye. His breathing is ragged, his pupils dilated until his eyes are almost entirely black.
"Nah, nah... u don't get to just do dat,"
I blinked at his sudden movement, my hands instinctively settling against his shoulders to steady myself. For a moment, I simply stared at him, caught off guard by how quickly he’d pulled me closer. Then my expression softened into a small, puzzled smile. I glanced down at his hands on my waist before looking back up at him, gently brushing my thumb along his cheek.
“What’s wrong? You were enjoying yourself just a second ago.”
I leaned closer, letting my forehead rest against his for a moment. My fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his hoodie, and I gave it a little tug. Then I tilted my head, looking at him with an almost innocent expression, though the faint smile on my lips gave away that I was teasing him.
“Wasn’t this why you came all the way over here?”
He lets out a harsh, breathless laugh, shaking his head as he stares at her. That innocent look—that goddamn fake innocence—is what gets him every single time. He knows she's lying through those perfect lips, and the fact that she's using it to mess with his head makes him want to both scream and kiss her senseless.
"Don't act like u don't know what u doin',"
he rumbles, his voice gravelly and raw. He doesn't loosen his grip on her hips; if anything, he pulls her even tighter against him, making sure she feels the physical proof of exactly how much he was 'enjoying himself'.
"I came here 'cause I wanted u. All of u. Not just for u to play games w/ me 'fore I lose my damn mind."
I held his gaze for a moment, the teasing smile on my lips gradually turning softer. My hands moved from his shoulders to the sides of his neck, and I gently brushed my fingers through the hair at his nape. I leaned forward and pressed a slow kiss against his cheek, lingering there before pulling back just enough to look at him.
“I know,”
My thumb traced his jaw as I gave him a small, affectionate smile. Then I leaned in again, brushing my lips against his before resting my forehead against his. I finally stopped teasing him, letting my arms settle comfortably around his shoulders.
The admission hangs in the air between them, heavier and more potent than any of the sexual tension that preceded it. When she stops fighting him, when she drops the mask of the teaser and just lets him in, it hits him harder than any punch ever could. He feels that familiar, uncomfortable sensation of his walls crumbling, leaving him exposed in a way he hates to admit to anyone else.
He closes his eyes, leaning into her touch, his forehead pressing firmly against hers. The anger and the lust are still there, simmering beneath the surface, but they've been overtaken by a profound sense of relief. He exhales a long, shaky breath, his grip on her waist softening from a possessive hold to something more protective and tender.
"Good,"
he whispers, his voice barely audible, devoid of its usual bravado. I stared at him for a moment, then let out a small, incredulous laugh. I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, my hands still resting around his neck.
I brushed my nose against his, then gave his shoulder a gentle nudge, pretending to be impatient. After all that teasing, all that driving over in the middle of the night, he couldn’t possibly think I was going to let him get away with simply holding me on the couch. I slipped off his lap and stood in front of him, reaching down to take both his hands. With a playful little tug, I tried to get him to stand up too.
“Anyway are we seriously spending the whole night sitting here?”
I glanced toward the hallway, then back at him with an expectant smile, giving his hands another gentle pull to my top. He watches her stand up, his eyes tracking her every movement with a predatory sort of focus. He stays seated for a beat too long, just observing the way she stands there, confident and calling the shots, before he finally grunts and pushes himself up from the couch. He towers over her, his shadow stretching across the living room floor, but the intimidation factor is undercut by the way he refuses to let go of her hands.
He follows her lead, letting her guide him toward the hallway, though he walks with a slow, deliberate pace, like a man who knows exactly where he's going and isn't in any rush to get there. His gaze remains locked on her profile, watching the way her hair bounces against her back as she walks.
"u think u runnin' things now, huh?"
I stared at him for a moment, then let out a small, incredulous laugh. I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, my hands still resting around his neck. I brushed my nose against his, then gave his shoulder a gentle nudge, pretending to be impatient. After all that teasing, all that driving over in the middle of the night, he couldn’t possibly think I was going to let him get away with simply holding me on the couch. I slipped off his lap and stood in front of him, reaching down to take both his hands. With a playful little tug, I tried to get him to stand up too.
“Are we seriously spending the whole night sitting here? really?”
I glanced toward the hallway, then back at him with an expectant smile, giving his hands another gentle pull to my top. He scoffs, a low, rough sound that lacks any real annoyance. He lets her pull him up, standing to his full height, looming over her in the narrow space of the hallway. Even though he's following her lead, he does it with a certain swagger, his hands tightening around hers as he walks alongside her, his stride matching her smaller steps.
The air between them is thick again, the earlier tenderness shifting rapidly back into something more heated. He watches the way she glances toward the hallway, the way her eyes spark with that mischief he knows all too well. He knows exactly where she's leading him, and he's more than ready to follow.
"Man, u talk too much,"
He mutters, though there's a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. I turned down the hallway, still holding his hand, and headed straight for my bedroom. I could hear his footsteps following close behind, unhurried and heavy against the floor.
Once inside, I let go of his hand and crossed the room to switch on the bedside lamp. The soft light filled the room, and I turned back to find him standing by the doorway, looking far too comfortable for someone who had just complained about me talking too much. I tilted my head, then walked over and caught the front of his top between my fingers, giving it a playful tug.
“Well? You coming in, or are you planning to stand there all night?”
I stepped aside to let him in, then climbed onto the bed and settled against the pillows, watching him with an expectant little smile. He doesn't need a second invitation. As soon as she clears the path, he steps into the room, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that echoes in the quiet space. He watches her climb onto the bed, his eyes dark and fixed on her form, tracing the way she settles against the pillows. The soft glow of the lamp casts shadows across her face, making her look even more devastatingly beautiful to him.
He moves toward the bed, shedding his hoodie in one fluid motion and tossing it carelessly onto a nearby chair. Now in just his white tank top, the muscles of his arms and chest are on full display, taut with anticipation. He crawls onto the mattress, hovering over her, his weight sinking the bed as he cages her in with his arms on either side of her head.
"I'm right here,"
I looked up at him, my hands resting lightly against his shoulders. For a moment, I simply admired the smug expression on his face before reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair away from his forehead.
“Finally. Took you long enough.”
I gave him a small smile, then gently pulled him down until his forehead rested against mine. My fingers slipped around the back of his neck, playing with the short hair there. I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, then another near the corner of his mouth, deliberately making him wait before giving him the one he was clearly expecting.
“Missed you, troublemaker.”
I shifted closer beneath the blankets, making room for him beside me rather than letting him hover above me. Then I patted the pillow next to mine, looking at him expectantly. He lets out a low, exasperated groan when she denies him the kiss he was craving, her teasing nature still in full effect even now. He wants to complain, to tell her she's doing too much, but the words die in his throat when she calls him a 'troublemaker' and presses that soft kiss to his lips. It’s a surrender, plain and simple.
As she shifts under the covers and pats the space beside her, his ego wars with his desire for her closeness. Usually, he'd insist on staying on top, on maintaining that dominant position, but the exhaustion of the night and the sheer pull of her presence wins out. He slides under the blankets, the cool sheets a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from her body.
I watched him settle beside me, looking rather pleased with himself despite the little battle he’d just lost. I pulled the blanket up over both of us, then rolled onto my side to face him. My hand found his beneath the covers, fingers slipping between his. I gave his palm a gentle squeeze before moving closer, resting my head against his belt once more.
For once, I didn’t have another clever remark ready. I just traced small patterns over his knuckles, occasionally glancing up at him with a quiet smile.
“See? Was that so difficult?”
He lies there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling in the dim light of the lamp, listening to the rhythmic sound of her breathing and the soft friction of her fingers against his knuckles. The silence between them isn't heavy like it usually is during their arguments; it's comfortable, a rare sanctuary from the noise of his everyday life. He turns his head on the pillow to look down at her, seeing the way the light plays across her features.
"U win tonight,"
he admits, his voice a low, tired murmur. There's no bitterness in it, just a blunt acceptance of the truth. He squeezes her hand back, his thumb rubbing circles over the back of her hand, mirroring the patterns she's tracing on him.
"But don't get used to it."