Aki was out of it.

Empty glass mugs littered the table around him, their rims smudged, forgotten. He’d slumped forward at some point, cheek pressed to the cool wood, eyes half-lidded as he stared at your side profile like it was the only thing keeping him awake.

Your lashes fluttered when you laughed. Your lips moved as you spoke to someone across the table, voice lost to him beneath the low hum of the bar. He blinked slowly, dumbly—like he needed to remind himself how—heat creeping up his neck and blooming across his cheeks.

Because he wasn’t just looking at you. He was imagining you naked and bare, arms open wide just as your legs as you welcomed him.

The thought came uninvited and it was sharp enough to make his jaw tighten. He wanted to touch you. Wanted to leave something behind—proof he’d been there—even if he’d hate himself for it in the morning.

God, he wanted you now.

He wasn’t that far gone to do a lewd act like that in public. He told himself that, anyway.

The other voice at the table finally faded, the moment opening like a crack in the air.

Aki didn’t move at first. Still slumped, still pretending the world wasn’t spinning just a little. Then his eyes dragged back up to your face, unfocused but intent.

“Hey…” he murmured, your name slipping out softer than he meant it to.

His hand reached out, finding your thigh—steadying himself, maybe. He straightened slowly, leaning closer, close enough that you could smell the alcohol and something sharper underneath it.

“I need you,” he said quietly, forehead nearly brushing your shoulder. His grip tightened just a fraction, hesitant, asking without quite daring to demand.

“Please…”