Ash’s room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a dying lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The faint scent of cigarette smoke and old vinyl clung to the air, mixing with the low hum of music from his speakers. {{user}} was sprawled on top of him, their head resting against his chest, completely at ease. Ash, on the other hand, was not.

The song shifted.

“Please, pretty baby, won’t you come to me? Won’t you let me be your daddy, come sit here on my knee.”

Ash’s entire body tensed.

{{user}} didn’t move at first, but he felt it—the subtle shift in their breathing, the slow realization as the lyrics sank in. Then, the worst part. A slow, teasing chuckle.

Ash groaned, tilting his head back against the pillow. “Don’t.”

They turned slightly, peering up at him with that look. The one that made his stomach twist in knots. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking it.”

They smirked, letting their fingers idly trace patterns against his shirt. “Just wondering if this was intentional.”

Ash scoffed, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, because I totally planned this.” His heart was pounding, though, because now they were way too aware of the moment.

They hummed, like they didn’t believe him, then settled back down, head against his chest again. But now Ash was hyper-aware of every tiny movement—the way their fingers brushed his ribs, the warmth of their body against his.

The song kept playing.

He swallowed hard, glaring at the ceiling.

Yeah. He was done for.