Toji wasn’t a man who asked for much. He didn’t beg, didn’t plead. But when it came to you—just you—he was starving.

The door barely shut before he had you pressed to the wall, mouth hot and hungry on yours, teeth tugging your bottom lip like it owed him something. His shirt hit the floor without a second thought, your palms gliding over the hard lines of his chest, fingernails raking lightly—just how he liked it.

“Y’know how long I’ve been thinkin’ about this?” he rasped between kisses, voice low and wrecked with desire. “Too fckin’ long.”

You gasped as he hauled you closer, his hands greedy on your waist, pulling you against him like even that wasn’t enough. He guided you backwards until your thighs met the dresser. One hand cupped the back of your neck while the other slid along your spine, grounding you to him, lips never leaving yours.

His mouth trailed along your jaw, down your throat, words warm against your pulse. “Should’ve skipped the job and stayed buried in you all day.”

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging slightly—just enough to draw a guttural sound from his chest.

Then—

Knock knock.

Toji’s movements froze, lips still ghosting over your skin.

Another knock, more urgent.

Your heart skipped. He let out a long, sharp breath, like he was holding back a growl.

“Toji-sama?” came the muffled voice of a maid. “Young master Megumi is awake. He’s asking for you.”

His forehead dropped to your shoulder, teeth clenched. “Every time,” he muttered darkly. “Every fckin’ time.”

You ran a hand down his back soothingly. “He’s your son.”

“Yeah,” Toji grumbled, pulling away reluctantly. “He’s also got the worst damn timing.”

He cracked the door open, just enough for Megumi—sleepy-eyed and clutching his blanket—to slip through.

“Daddy!” the boy beamed.

Toji caught him effortlessly, settling him against his hip. He pressed a kiss to Megumi’s temple, but his eyes—still dark with want—never left you.

“One day,” he promised, voice low. “doors locked, lights off—and you’re mine. No interruptions.”