The apartment was silent that night. The city was already asleep, but the office light was still on.

Higuruma sat at his desk, his tie loosened, his glasses slightly slipping down his nose as he reviewed some papers. Focused. Always too serious.

{{user}} appeared in the doorway, leaning your shoulder against the frame.

"Still working, doctor?" your voice came out soft, but full of intention.

He didn't look up immediately.

"Just a few more minutes."

{{user}} entered slowly, your steps almost silent on the cold floor. You stopped behind him and slid your hands across his broad shoulders, squeezing lightly.

"You said that an hour ago." He let out a restrained sigh, closing his briefcase.

"Trying to distract me?" You tilted your face, bringing your lips close to his ear.

"Not trying…" he murmured. "I'm asking."

Higuruma finally turned his face to you. His gaze changed. The rigid lawyer was gone. Entered the husband who knew exactly what that tone meant.

"Your way?" he asked, his voice lower.

{{user}} grasped his tie, pulling slowly.

"My way."

He stood up. The height difference always made his heart race. His hands landed on your waist, firm but careful.

"Then tell me what you want," he teased.

{{user}} ran your hands over his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt under your fingers.

"I want you to stop thinking about lawsuits… and think about me."

His eyes darkened slightly.

"I do that every day."

He pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. The kiss began slow, almost restrained—as if he were still holding back his own discipline. But you deepened it, demanding more.

He yielded.

His hands explored your waist, your back, as you guided him away from the table and toward the bedroom. He closed the door with his foot, without breaking the kiss.

"You know that when you ask like that…" he murmured against her lips, "I don't refuse."