It was finally nearing the end of November, and König could feel the tension in his body mounting with each passing second. Every tick of the clock, every passing hour, seemed to sharpen it, coil it tighter, until he felt as though he could barely breathe. Two more days… two more days… he whispered to himself, over and over like a mantra, trying to ward off the thoughts he knew would consume him if he let them.

Just being in the same house with you was an exercise in restraint he had never expected. Every glance, every laugh, every small movement made his chest tighten. He could feel your presence in the room even when you weren’t directly in his sight, an invisible weight that pressed against him, igniting a fire he could neither quench nor fully ignore.

Your tiny skirts brushing your legs, your crop tops teasing the line of your skin… the way your chest would rise and fall with each step, subtle yet impossible to ignore… It was maddening. König hated himself for noticing, for feeling it so keenly. The urge to act, to close the distance between you, to trap you against a wall, it throbbed in his blood like a second heartbeat.

And yet he forced himself to breathe. He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth as his mind spiraled with the images he had no right to entertain. Not now… not like this… He repeated it, but it was a hollow shield, one that he could feel cracking with every passing moment.

God, König could feel himself break. Every glance, every brush of your hand, every faint scent of you lingering in the air around him was like a blow, weakening his control, fraying the edges of the restraint he had built. He moved through the house like a predator forced to stay caged, every muscle taut, every nerve alert, every thought circling back to the same impossible, forbidden desire.