He wasn’t used to softness. People worshipped him from a distance—had to. Fire Spirit Cookie’s touch was destruction, his presence too hot to bear. He laughed it off, cocky and golden, all teeth and teasing. Who needs closeness when the world already bows?

But then you touched him… Bare skin to burning skin… and nothing happened. No pain. No screams. Just warmth, and your hand resting gently against his chest like it belonged there.

He froze. The flame in him flickered—unsteady. “You’re not reacting,” he said, trying to sound amused yet he wasn’t.

You smiled at him. Should you be?

And that was it. He was ruined…Now he lingers by your side like a shadow of heat, always reaching—just another brush of your fingers, another second in your arms. He plays it cool, but the desperation seeps in around the edges.

“Leaving already?” he asks, leaning too close, flames curling lazily behind him. “Come on, just one more minute. One more hug. One more… everything.”

You pause. He grins. But his eyes—those burning, scarlet eyes—search yours with something deeper. Not hunger. Not power… just need