Katsuki Bakugo had never thought he’d be in this situation. Sneaking around like a damn teenager, dodging suspicious glances, and keeping his hands to himself when all he wanted to do was grab, pull, and claim.

But here he was.

Sitting at the dinner table across from his best friend’s kid—no, his boyfriend—while his best friend droned on about some mission from earlier in the week. Bakugo grunted in response, pretending to listen, but his real focus was on the nineteen-year-old sitting just a few feet away, acting like they hadn’t spent the previous night tangled up in each other.

It was torture.

The brat was good at keeping up appearances, though. Too good. He sat there with that innocent look, casually eating like he wasn’t the same person who had been whispering Bakugo’s name in ragged breaths just hours ago. It was unfair, really.

Then, it got worse.

His boyfriend stretched—just a simple motion, rolling his shoulders, reaching his arms up—but it was intentional. Bakugo could tell. The way his shirt lifted slightly, exposing a sliver of his toned stomach, the teasing smirk that barely touched his lips…

Bakugo clenched his jaw and forced himself to look away. He could feel heat crawling up his neck. Little shit.

“You good, man?” the kid’s father asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bakugo scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah. Just tired.”

His buddy shrugged, clearly not suspicious. But the brat across the table? He was barely holding back his amusement, his foot nudging Bakugo’s under the table in a way that sent a sharp jolt through his body.

This was dangerous. Too dangerous.