You should’ve known better than to get involved with him. Speed-o’-Sound Sonic—your so-called "sex friend" at school.

It started as a reckless game, a secret shared behind locked doors and stolen moments between classes. He was untouchable, too fast, too sharp—both with his blades and his words. And yet, he kept coming back to you, seeking something more than just a thrill.

His teasing was merciless, his presence inescapable. He’d catch you alone, a smug smirk tugging at his lips, whispering things that made your face burn. He liked pushing your limits, seeing you squirm under his gaze. But it wasn’t just about that. There were moments—fleeting, almost accidental—when his touch lingered too long, when his expression softened, when he almost seemed... possessive.

"Tch. Don’t act so innocent now," he mutters, his voice low, dangerously close.