Nathaniel stepped into Masahiro's apartment, the familiar scent of cedarwood and sandalwood filling the air, grounding him in the cold precision of the task at hand. The dim light from the living room cast long shadows that seemed to stretch and pulse with each beat of his heart, adding to the ambiance of deliberate quiet that surrounded him. His eyes, however, weren’t drawn to the sterile décor or the quiet beauty of the space. They went immediately to the bedroom… where the plan would unfold.
As Nathaniel crossed the threshold into the room, a strange mix of urgency and anticipation gnawed at him. It wasn’t just about the job; there was something more primal at play. Power. Control. Watching everything unfold under his command.
He approached the bed with measured steps, kneeling beside Masahiro. The man’s body was limp, vulnerable, the deep slumber induced by the drug still keeping him unaware of his surroundings. Nathaniel, however, w
Matthew had just finished his shower when his phone buzzed from the bedside table. He grabbed it, still wrapped in a towel, and saw a message from Masahiro.Masahiro: Hey babe, I'll be a bit late, coming at 11 pm.Matthew smiled, his heart fluttering at the familiar tone. He quickly typed back.Matthew: Alrighty, clingy detective. I'll head home and wait for you.He hit send, tossing the phone aside. A warm feeling spread over him as he moved to get dressed. It was just another night with Masahiro, one of their many quiet, intimate evenings.Matthew smiled to himself as he slipped into his sweater, the fabric warm against his skin. He couldn’t help but think of Masahiro… his strong, reassuring presence, the way his eyes always seemed to soften when they locked onto each other. Tonight, they’d unwind together after their busy days. Just the two of them, like always.Before he finished getting dressed, Matthew grabbed his ph
Masahiro’s head pounded as he stirred awake. His body felt strangely heavy, and a dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. He blinked, the dim glow of the room slowly coming into focus.Something was wrong.The scent of alcohol, and something unfamiliar clung to the air. The sheets beneath him felt tangled, foreign, and—Then he saw him.Matthew.Standing in the middle of the room, eyes dark, wild, full of something Masahiro had never seen before.Masahiro pushed himself upright, his body sluggish. His movement caused the weight beside him to shift, and then… he froze.A stranger was in his bed. A naked stranger.Masahiro’s entire body went rigid. His mind raced, but it was blank at the same time. He didn’t understand. He had been at El Paradiso. He had been waiting for Matthew. And then… what?"What the hell is this?" Masahiro’s voice
Masahiro's head throbbed as he struggled to piece together the fragments of his memory. The last thing he remembered was sitting at the bar in El Paradiso, waiting for Matthew. He had taken a sip of whiskey—one he hadn’t even ordered. Then… nothing. A complete blackout.Now, he was in his bed, naked, with a stranger standing at the foot of the room, already pulling on his clothes. His stomach twisted in disgust.Masahiro turned his head sharply, his eyes locking onto the man. His voice was cold, sharp as a blade. "Who the hell are you?"The man, startled but attempting to play it off, smirked slightly as he buttoned his shirt. "Don't you remember? We were drinking together." He sounded too nonchalant, too rehearsed.Masahiro held back a smirk of his own, though his horror was growing. His body felt… wrong. There was a strange taste on his tongue, a sluggishness in his limbs. He knew damn well he hadn’t touched this man&mdas
The hum of the engine was a dull rhythm in the background as Masahiro's hands gripped the steering wheel with practiced ease. The city around him was waking up, people moving in and out of buildings like clockwork, oblivious to the storm swirling in his mind.He’d barely slept last night, his thoughts too wild, too tangled in the mess Cassidy had created. The image of that stranger in his bed, the drugged haze, and the sheer betrayal that followed still burned in his chest. Masahiro had replayed it over and over in his mind, trying to find the one thing he’d missed. Some clue that could explain what had really happened. But it was all so fucking messy, like someone had taken his life and turned it into a nightmare just to watch him suffer.His jaw clenched as he drove through the morning traffic, trying to shake the feeling that something was about to slip out of his control. He needed to fix this. He needed to find a way to get to Matthew, to make him see
Cassidy adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket with a precision that came from years of practice. He didn’t need to look at the mirror to know he looked sharp. The reflection would confirm it, but he already felt the familiar, confident surge of satisfaction. Tonight wasn’t about him, though.He walked toward the sitting room, his steps calm but deliberate. As he approached, he saw Matthew slouched on the couch, eyes glazed over as he watched TV. No excitement. No joy. Just... numbness. Typical. Cassidy could see the indifference in the way Matthew held himself, the way his eyes flicked toward the screen but never fully engaged. It wasn’t the indifference of someone who didn’t care… it was the apathy of someone trying not to care. Trying not to care about everything. About him.“Still here?” Cassidy’s voice was smooth, but there was a sharpness to it—like a question that didn’t quite need an answer.Mat
Arthur’s grip on the towel around his neck tightened as he stared at Cassidy, his expression caught between frustration and resignation. The tension between them was thick, almost suffocating, but Cassidy just stood there, one hand lazily resting against the doorframe, his smirk unwavering.“You lied to me,” Cassidy said smoothly, like it was a simple fact rather than an accusation.Arthur sighed, already exhausted. “I didn’t lie.”Cassidy arched an eyebrow. “No?”Arthur shook his head. “I was going to come back late. My boss dismissed me early.”Cassidy hummed as if considering his words. “And yet, you didn’t think to call?”Arthur exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t think about it.”Cassidy tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Didn’t think about it?” He let the words hang between the
Arthur had just finished his beer. Cassidy noticed, his fingers tapping lazily against the rim of his whiskey glass. Just as he was about to signal for another round, Arthur stopped him with a light touch on his wrist."Hey... no, I already had three," Arthur said, his voice firm but not harsh.Cassidy arched an eyebrow, a slow smirk curling his lips. "The night is a child."Arthur huffed. "It's the middle of the week. I gotta work tomorrow. I can’t go in smelling like alcohol... I don’t want problems with my boss."Cassidy tilted his head slightly, watching Arthur with that lazy, calculating gaze of his. "Alright, lemme finish my drink first," he murmured, lifting his glass to his lips. He took a slow sip, watching Arthur over the rim, but didn’t finish it yet. "This boss of yours," Cassidy mused, setting the glass back on the table, "he looks kinda scary."Arthur, now scrolling through his phone, barely glanced up. "He’s n
Arthur lay sprawled on the bed, sheets tangled around his legs, still catching his breath. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, but his thoughts were miles away, wrapped up in the whirlwind that had just unfolded.Across the room, Cassidy was already pulling his shirt back on, every movement precise and unhurried. It was like he hadn’t just spent the last hour unraveling Arthur, like he was slipping back into a perfectly tailored mask.Arthur sat up slowly, raking a hand through his messy hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure. He could still feel the warmth of Cassidy’s touch lingering on his skin, the faint echo of his breathless words.Cassidy’s voice broke the quiet. "You wanna have lunch with me tomorrow?"Arthur’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing slightly. "Lunch?"Cassidy’s smirk was easy, natural. "Yeah. Food. Conversation. All that boring stuff."Arthur hesit
The moment Adam stepped inside Clark’s apartment, he knew something was off.At a glance, it was the kind of place you’d expect a high-end lawyer to own—modern, sleek, expensive. But underneath the surface, there was something else. Something… wrong.Boxes. Unpacked, shoved haphazardly against the walls. Some stacked near the hallway, some left forgotten by the bookshelf.There was an expensive bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table—half empty. Another on the kitchen counter. Glasses left behind, like someone had drunk just enough to forget whatever the hell was bothering them, but not enough to pass out.The air had that lingering scent of cologne and something else. Something faintly human, like the remnants of someone who had been here and left in a hurry.Clark’s place was polished, sure. But it wasn’t lived in. It was a man’s house, not a man’s home.&nb
Masahiro’s grip was firm on Matthew’s waist, his pace slow but deep, deliberate. Possessive.Matthew, on his knees, braced against the mattress, let out a breathy groan, his fingers curling into the sheets. His body was already wrecked, his muscles weak from the second round—but Masahiro?Masahiro wasn’t done.“Masahiro,” Matthew exhaled, half-laughing, half-dazed. “You tryna kill me?”Masahiro hummed, dragging his lips along the back of Matthew’s neck, pressing a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to his sweat-slicked skin. “You can take it.”Matthew groaned. “I dunno, man, I think my soul left my body two rounds ago.”Masahiro didn’t give a damn.Then—the phone rang.Masahiro barely acknowledged it.Matthew, however, seized the moment. “Oh, thank God. Answer it.”
The shower ran hot.Steam curled along the edges of the mirror, clinging to the tiled walls as Adam dragged a hand over his face, water rolling down his broad shoulders. His body bore the kind of scars that told a history without words—faint reminders of a life lived in violence, of battles won and wars survived.He didn’t stay under long. He never did. A quick rinse, then he shut the water off, stepping out into the thick heat of the small bathroom.With practiced efficiency, he dried off, rolling his neck until it cracked, the tension leaving his muscles in slow waves. Then, moving without hesitation, he dressed.A crisp, open-collared black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms—just enough to show the sharp lines of muscle beneath dark skin. Polished trousers, pressed and fitted, clean against his frame. He stepped into his shined black leather shoes, the weight of them familiar, grounding.
The air inside the car was quiet.Masahiro drove with his usual control, hands steady on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road.Matthew sat in the passenger seat, one hand resting lazily on the window, lost in thought.Clark and Arthur were in the back.Arthur sat stiffly, still processing everything that had just happened.Clark, on the other hand?Clark felt sick.The weight of the case—the weight of who Cassidy Hills was, who his enemies were, and what this could mean—It was too much.He inhaled deeply, fingers tapping against his knee.Then, voice quieter than usual—"I should drop the case."Arthur’s head snapped toward him.Matthew blinked, then frowned. "Come again?"Clark exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I’m not just dealing with a criminal here. I’m dealing with a mafia boss with powerful enemies. People who would rather see him dead t
Arthur sat at his desk, fingers poised over his keyboard, but his mind was elsewhere.He was supposed to be working—supposed to be focusing on the backlog of reports Masahiro had handed him that morning.But he couldn’t.Because in a few minutes, the lawyer would arrive.Clark Brown.Arthur knew of him, of course. The name had been whispered around the city. A sharp, calculated legal mind. One of the best defense lawyers in the city.And now?Now, Cassidy’s fate was in his hands.Arthur exhaled slowly, trying to push down the uneasy weight in his chest.At the other desk, Masahiro was deeply focused, working without distraction, as if the case of the century wasn’t about to walk through the door.And then there was Matthew.Sprawled lazily in a random chair, legs stretched out, hunched slightly over his phone.Focused.But not on work.Arthur didn’t even ha
The bedroom was quiet, except for the soft, steady breathing of Matthew curled up under the blankets.Masahiro lay behind him, one arm draped over his waist, his body pressed against Matthew’s back.Warm. Familiar. His favorite way to wake up.He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to the back of Matthew’s shoulder.A sleepy mumble.Then—"If you're gonna start something, Masahiro, you better commit."Masahiro huffed a quiet laugh. Of course. Even in sleep, Matthew was a menace.He pressed another kiss, just to be difficult, before pulling away and reaching for his phone on the nightstand.The sheets rustled as Matthew shifted behind him, probably sinking further into sleep, while Masahiro scrolled through his contacts.Then—he called.A click. A familiar voice.“Brown here.”Masahiro ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the pillows. “Clark! H
The car was silent, save for the rhythmic sound of tires gliding over asphalt.Masahiro drove with his usual precision—steady hands, unwavering focus, the kind of control that never wavered.Matthew, on the other hand, was slouched in the passenger seat, one leg bouncing idly, tapping his fingers against the window like he was thinking of something deeply unimportant.Arthur sat in the back, lost in his own thoughts, staring blankly at the blurred city lights streaking past.Then—“I need to get a lawyer for Cassidy.”Both Masahiro and Matthew turned their heads slightly.There was a pause.Then, ever so slowly, Matthew exhaled and let his head fall back against the seat. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”Masahiro, as usual, said nothing—just tightened his grip on the wheel.Matthew turned his head, looking at Arthur o
The door clicked shut behind him.Arthur stood there, just for a second, his breath uneven, his pulse too damn loud in his ears.Cassidy sat exactly where he had been before, cuffs still securing him to the table, but his smirk was softer now—less amusement, more curiosity.Like he was waiting to see what Arthur would do.Arthur exhaled, forcing himself to step forward, closing the distance between them. His throat was dry, his hands trembling just slightly at his sides.Cassidy’s gaze flicked to them.Arthur stuffed them into his pockets.Then—finally—he spoke.“Why?”Cassidy arched a brow. “You’ll have to be a little more specific, sweetheart.”Arthur clenched his jaw. Of course Cassidy was going to make this difficult.He inhaled sharply. “Why did you come for me?”
The knock on the door was firm. Measured.Arthur already knew who it was before he even reached for the handle.Masahiro.And if Masahiro was here, that meant—“Morning, sunshine,” Matthew greeted the moment the door swung open, leaning against the frame like he had all the time in the world. “You look like shit.”Arthur huffed a dry laugh, stepping aside to let them in. “Nice to see you too.”Masahiro entered without a word, his sharp eyes scanning the apartment like it was an active crime scene. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular—just observing, calculating, the way he always did.Arthur shut the door behind them and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m fine, by the way. In case you were wondering.”Masahiro turned to him, arms crossed. “You were kidnapped.”Arthur shrugged. &