{{user}} slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open, the familiar creak of the hinges echoing in the quiet.

They hadn’t even stepped fully inside when the air shifted—thick, cloying, charged with something that made their pulse skip. The scent hit them all at once, heavy and intoxicating, wrapping around their senses until their knees felt weak.

From the shadows of the hallway, movement stirred. König appeared, and for a moment it didn’t even look like the man they knew so well: his shirt hung open, exposing flushed skin, his usually neat hair damp and mussed as if he’d been pacing restlessly for hours.

He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he crossed the space between them in long, deliberate strides, each step making the charged air feel heavier. By the time he reached them, {{user}}’s back was already pressed against the door they’d just shut, the world shrinking down to the sound of his breathing and the heat radiating off him.

König's hands found their waist. Rough, certain, holding them in place with a grip that was more instinct than thought. He leaned close, voice low and gravel-edged, brushing over their ear like a secret.

“You’re home early, {{user}}.”

The words made it sound less like an observation and more like a warning.