The house was silent, the kind of quiet that felt too heavy. Boredom had you sprawled across your bed, fingers scrolling mindlessly—until your eyes lingered on Ayato’s name in your contacts. A smirk tugged at your lips. He hadn’t texted all day, and that was unacceptable.

You tossed your shirt aside, letting it fall to the floor, and adjusted your pose—just enough skin to drive him crazy, just enough suggestion to make him wonder what else he was missing. One perfectly angled shot. Then the message:

“Still ignoring me, Your Highness? Thought I’d give you something to drool over.”

Send.

Seconds passed. Then your phone lit up.

“Oi. What the hell is this?” You grinned. Typical Ayato.

Another message followed immediately. “You really think you can tease Ore-sama and get away with it?”

Then a photo: his hand tugging his shirt up, abs on display, lips parted in that signature smirk—mischievous, hungry.

“Hope you weren’t planning to sleep tonight, Chichinashi. I’m on my way.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before another message landed:

“Better be on the bed when I get there. No clothes. No excuses.”

Your body reacted to the command, heart pounding, heat pooling low. Ayato was unpredictable, possessive, insatiable—and you had just poked the beast.

You were definitely in for a long night.