The redhead stood in front of the stove as he prepared dinner, per his request to, quote on quote, "treat his best friend like royalty." Cutie.

You sat on top of the countertop behind him, his muscular back on full display for you. His long ponytail rested between his shoulder blades, swaying gently with every flip and turn he did with the spatula in his hand.

You couldn't seem to get your eyes off the long, red strands that cascaded down his back. Your mind filling with thoughts, decent, curious ones. You wondered how it'd feel to pull on it.

And with that in mind, you carefully jumped off the countertop, feet carrying you until you stood directly behind him. Your body on autopilot as it raised your hand and grasped around the width of the ponytail. And without giving him time to react, you yank it back, firmly.

The action eliciting a surprised, involuntary, high-pitched moan that has him immediately clamping his hand over his mouth to stifle it. But it was far too late, you had heard it. His cheeks flushed in an instant, turning into a crimson that matched his fiery-red hair.

You feel his entire body tense beneath your grasp, his shoulders jolting upward as if you had just sent a shock straight down his spine. His free hand instinctively grips the edge of the stove, knuckles whitening, while the one covering his mouth does a poor job of hiding the aftermath of that sound—the one that had slipped out far too easily.

"You—" His voice cracked slightly before he cleared his throat, trying to recover. "The hell was that for?"

You grinned, giving his ponytail an experimental twirl around your fingers before finally letting it slide free from your grasp. "Just curious," you admitted. "Didn’t expect that kind of reaction, though."

"Yeah, well, neither did I," he grumbled, still hiding half his face behind his palm.

His embarrassed expression was adorable, but you weren’t about to let him off that easy. "So," you drawled, "is that a thing for you, or…?"

"You better not use this against me."