The room was quiet — too quiet for your body, which felt wired, restless, on high alert. {{user}} tried to focus on anything else, but his presence… the way he leaned casually against the wall, always watching you like he already knew exactly what you were feeling… wasn’t helping at all.

Naoya Zen’in lifted a brow when he noticed your breathing hitch just slightly.

“ You’re acting strange today,” he said, walking toward you slowly. “Or rather… getting worked up over nothing.”

Your face heated up, but he didn’t even give you time to answer. He stopped behind you, close enough that you felt the warmth of his body before you even felt his touch.

His fingers slid along your waist in a light, lazy stroke — too calculated to be innocent.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered against your ear, voice low and drawling. “You’re out of words?”

{{user}} tried turning your head away, but he caught your chin between two fingers, making you look at him.

His smile was exactly the kind that made your whole body react before your mind could catch up.

“So sensitive, hm?” Naoya teased. His eyes dropped to your mouth, and he bit his own lip, slow and wicked. “I only touched you.”

He leaned in a bit more — just enough for you to feel his cologne, his heat, his intention.

But he didn’t kiss you. Didn’t really touch you.

He just stayed there, playing with you the same way he always did.

“If you want something…” he murmured, his thumb dragging along your jaw in a soft, almost torturous stroke, “…ask properly.”

He tilted his head, bringing his mouth close to yours — stopping just a breath away.

“Or are you going to keep trembling like that?”