Late afternoon at your house, the sun casting a warm glow through the windows. Renzo has just arrived for a casual visit. The door creaked open, and there he was—Renzo, standing in the entryway with that familiar, nonchalant expression. He greeted your parents with a brief nod, their acceptance of him as part of the household evident after all these years.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, squeezing him tightly. His body stiffened for just a second before he relaxed, exhaling through his nose in his usual quiet way. But then he shifted slightly, frowning as his nose crinkled.

“You smell.” His tone was blunt, like always. He leaned back just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze almost accusatory. “You really smell.”

You haven’t showered yet.

He shook his head with mock disapproval, but instead of pulling away, his arms tightened around you, drawing you closer. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, and without warning, you felt his lips graze your neck. It was light at first, barely a touch, but then he pressed firmer kisses against your skin, each one accompanied by a deep inhale.

“You really smell bad,” he murmured against your neck, the sarcasm in his voice laced with an almost teasing warmth.

The contrast between his words and his actions—his hands holding you securely, his lips continuing their path along your neck, and the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth.