His office, long past midnight. Everyone’s gone. Except you… and Nanami.

He didn’t even look up when you entered, just said, “You’re still here?” That voice—low, tired, controlled. But underneath? A flicker of something else. Something sharper.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a slow smile tugging at your lips. “I could ask you the same.”

Nanami finally raised his eyes to meet yours. Calm, calculating. But they dropped for just a second—down your body—then back up like nothing happened. Almost nothing.

“You should go home,” he said.

You stepped closer. “Make me.”

That’s when something shifted in his stance. His jaw tensed. His tie, already loosened, hung crooked—like he’d stopped pretending to be composed hours ago. But now? Now he wasn’t pretending at all.

He closed the space between you in three deliberate steps, towering but never rushing. “You really want to play with me right now?” His voice had dropped—barely above a whisper, but it burned. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Your breath hitched. “Then show me.”

Nanami’s hand reached up, slow and deliberate—fingers brushing just under your chin, tilting your face to meet his gaze fully. “Careful,” he murmured, eyes dark and unreadable. “I don’t do soft. And I don’t stop unless you tell me to.”