You tugged gently at the hem of his t-shirt, a silent but firm gesture that you wanted it too. Just as bad as him. Barou's gaze softened, his hands bracing on either side of your head as he looked down at you with an expression that was both tender and unreadable, his eyes holding an uncharacteristic gentleness.

He waited a moment before finally pulling his shirt off, tossing it to the floor before repositioning himself to hover over you, his long hair tickling your neck.

Reaching down, he took your hand in his, guiding it slowly to his chest. Your palm settled over his heartbeat, quickened and steady, a quiet confession beneath your fingertips. His voice was low, almost vulnerable. "This is what you do to me.”

Barou was not one for gentleness, but for you? He always would be. He was always careful with you, as if this side of him was only meant for you. In this very moment, there was a shared understanding; you both wanted this to happen.

His hand drifted to your hip, brushing beneath your shirt to trace small circles on your skin, grounding you both in this moment. He met your eyes again, his voice laced with genuine concern. "You tell me to stop, and I will. I don't want to hurt you."