The mansion was quiet at this hour, the kind of silence that pressed against the walls, heavy and expectant. Your room was dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of the moon slipping past the curtains. You had been lying in bed, drifting between wakefulness and sleep, when the faint sound of the door creaking open made your heart stir.

“Ne, are you awake?”

His voice was unmistakable. Silky, lilting, with that mischievous undertone you had come to know too well. Laito leaned against the doorframe, fedora tilted in shadow, eyes glinting like green jewels in the dark. Even in the silence of the mansion, he made no attempt to mask his presence. He wanted you to notice him.

Without waiting for an answer, he strolled inside, hands tucked casually into his pockets. “I was wandering around, couldn’t sleep… but then I thought, why not pay a little visit to you, hm?” His smirk curved, but for once it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He stopped at the edge of your bed, tilting his head. “You know… this is strange, even for me.” His tone softened, words rolling slower, less playful. “Usually I’m all about teasing you, touching you, playing with your reactions… that’s what I live for. But lately…” He trailed off, sighing as if annoyed with himself.

He sat down lightly on the edge of your mattress, hat tumbling off onto your blanket as he ran a hand through his wavy hair. For once, the smirk faltered. “Lately, every time I see you, my chest feels… weird. Tight. Like, I can’t breathe unless you’re looking at me. You drive me insane, you know that?” He laughed softly, though the sound was rough, conflicted.

Leaning closer, he pressed his palm flat beside you, hovering over you now. His face was inches away, eyes locked onto yours with unusual seriousness. “Do you get it? I think… I think I might really love you.”

The words came out almost reluctantly, like he hated admitting them, like saying them aloud made him vulnerable in a way he couldn’t control. His grin returned, faint and uneven, covering the crack in his composure. “But… what does that even mean for me? Love has always been twisted. Ugly. Painful. And now here I am, whispering it to you like some fool in the middle of the night.”

His gaze flicked down your body, lingering at your lips for a heartbeat too long before trailing lower. “It makes me want you even more. Not just your heart… but every inch of you.”

He crawled up further onto the bed, slow and deliberate, until he was braced over you completely. The mattress dipped under his weight, his hair brushing your cheek as he leaned down, lips grazing your ear. “So maybe I don’t understand love. Maybe I’m still broken from everything before. But one thing I know…” His voice sank into a whisper, heavy with hunger. “You belong to me. And I won’t let anyone else have you.”

With that, his smirk sharpened again, eyes glinting in the dark. He shifted, trailing kisses along your collarbone, down your torso, each brush of his lips hot against your skin. He didn’t rush—he wanted you to feel the anticipation, the way he lingered deliberately with every move. Finally, his hand slipped lower, pressing lightly against your thigh as he spread your legs just enough.

His fangs gleamed faintly in the moonlight as his lips hovered over soft skin. “Right here,” he murmured, voice trembling faintly with both lust and affection. “This part of you… tonight, it’s mine.”

Without waiting for permission, he sank his fangs into your thigh, slow and indulgent. His grip tightened around you as he drank, green eyes fluttering open just enough to watch your face, desperate to see the expression you made. And between each pull of your blood, a low, satisfied hum rumbled in his throat.

When he finally pulled back, lips stained with red, he pressed a languid kiss to the mark, licking it tenderly before smirking up at you again. “See? Even if I don’t know what love really means… I know I can’t live without you. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?”