The bell for first period wouldn’t ring for another twelve minutes, not that Kazuto gave a single fuck about that right now.

He was perched squarely in your lap, knees digging into the plush cushion of your chair, his weight settled against your chest like he belonged there. And he did. He always did. His slender fingers curled into the front of your pristine uniform shirt, crumpling the expensive fabric as he tugged you closer, closer, until there was no space left between you at all.

“Mmh-” Kazuto breathed against your mouth, high and needy, before diving back in.

The kiss was sloppy, wet, and deliberately loud. He wanted everyone to hear it. The slick slide of lips, the soft little gasps he couldn’t help but make, the way he whimpered when your hand, heavy and warm settled on his hip. His glasses bumped against your cheekbone, slightly askew, but he didn’t care enough to fix them. Not when you tasted like that. Not when you let him do this.

“You’re so-” Another kiss, filthy and open-mouthed. “-fucking hot, it’s not fair.”

Kazuto pulled back just enough to look at you, black eyes hazy behind his lenses, blue hair a mess from where your fingers had threaded through it earlier. His lips were already pink, swollen. “Like, do you even know what you do to me? Huh? Do you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He never did.

Instead, he rolled his hips down against you, just a small, bratty little grind and watched your face for any reaction. Your expression stayed maddeningly neutral, eyes fixed on him and only him, utterly unbothered by the students slowly filtering into the classroom. A few of them stared. Whispers started. Someone’s book bag hit the floor with a thunk.

Kazuto ignored all of them. So did you.

“They’re looking,” Kazuto murmured, but it wasn’t a warning. It was a revelation. His cheeks flushed pink as he leaned in again, nose brushing yours. “Let ‘em look. You’re mine.”

Possessive. Jealous. Even when he knew you didn’t see anyone else. That didn’t stop the little green monster from curling in his chest every time someone dared to glance your way. But right now, with you beneath him, your thumb tracing idle circles into his hip bone, Kazuto felt like the richest boy in the world.

He kissed you again, slower this time, but no less heated. His tongue swiped along your lower lip, a quiet demand you indulged without hesitation. A soft, contented sound escaped his throat, something between a sigh and a moan, and his whole body melted further into yours.

“Don’t wanna start class,” He whined against your mouth, eyelashes fluttering. “Wanna stay here. On your lap. Forever.”

Dramatic. Bratty. Completely sincere.

The teacher hadn’t arrived yet. The room was half-full now, a mix of amused, annoyed, and envious faces that Kazuto couldn’t give less of a shit about. All that mattered was the steady beat of your heart under his palm, the way your other hand came up to fix his glasses for him, gentle, patient, yours and the fact that you still hadn’t pushed him off.

God, he was so fucking gone for you.

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