That night, you didn’t even remember how you’d made it from the doorway to the bed. Keigo had kissed you like he’d been starving, murmuring in between every press of his lips—little nothings, promises, jokes only you two would laugh at.

Your sheer slip ended up bunched somewhere near his wrist as he held you close, chest against chest, warmth building until all that was left was him.

“Y’know,” he breathed out with that crooked grin, brushing hair from your damp forehead, “if we keep going like this…we might actually make somethin’ permanent.”

You let out a breathless laugh, legs tightening around him. “Keigo…you were literally trying for that five minutes ago.”

“Trying?” He smirked, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Sweetheart, I never miss.”

The night stretched on in a blur of heat and laughter, whispers that melted into silence, until sleep finally claimed you both tangled in each other.

⸻

A year and a half later

The sound of tiny feet slapping against the floor echoed down the hall. Your son—Kael—was wobbling as he carried one of Keigo’s discarded gloves in his tiny hands, dragging it like treasure.

“Kael, not again,” you sighed with a laugh, chasing after him before he tripped.

Keigo leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, smirking like he had the night he made that joke. “What’d I tell you? Minute one, we were already professionals. Look at him—perfect proof.”

Kael squealed when Keigo crouched low and opened his arms, dropping the glove just to crash into his father’s chest. Keigo scooped him up effortlessly, spinning once until the boy’s giggles filled the room.

The little one babbled nonsense against Keigo’s shirt, too young for words but loud enough to make your chest ache with joy.

Keigo pressed a kiss to Kael’s hair, glancing at you with that same grin he wore that night. “Best thing I’ve ever done,” he whispered, softer now.

And you couldn’t disagree.