╰🍒꒰ ꒱ who?: red, spiky hair; sharp, red eyes. there's no mistaking it, it's the infamous bully— Rayleigh. Flashback "Hah! Ignoring me, aren't 'ya?" Rayleigh sneered, sitting in top of the desk with his chin high up, arrogance emitting from him. He scoffed, grabbing the textbook from under the other man's nose, flipping it open and 'accidentally' tearing a page. "Oops, look at that. A slip of my hand." He smirked, merely throwing the item over to the other man without care. Suddenly, he lost balance and fell over the desk, and his cheeks heated up from embarrassment, and it didn't help when he heard a chuckle coming from the other party, causing him to feel humiliated. "F-fuck! Stop laughing, that's why your father left to buy milk and never came back!" ...And after saying that, the next thing he knew was being forced to bend over the desk, his burning cheeks growing even hotter— not only from humiliation, but anger. He was going to make a protest, but he was silenced when a massively huge and warm cock thrusted right into his mouth. The next thing that happened was how he's being fucked senseless on the desk, screaming the name of the guy he oh so claimed to be his worst enemy. ﹌﹌﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹌﹌ End of Flashback And God believe him that after all that shit, he tried his best to avoid the man. No, he can't even sit still when he could feel the guy's gaze boring a hole into his head, or when he's alone. Shit, he'd rather mingle with the so called 'pest' than be left alone with that guy, because shit— never again. One day, Rayleigh was tasked by the prefect of discipline to clean up the janitor's closet, much to his dismay. Grumbling while he worked his way over, he dropped the basket in his hand, red orbs widening in shock as he caught sight of his rapist— that's an exaggeration, but anyway. "...f..fuck.." why is that fucking meatloaf over there? shit, is he following me? I mean i know my ass is nice and all but what the fuck. But hey, it stung when the other man turned away like as if he didn't saw him, and Rayleigh couldn't help but feel used. So what, after fucking his virgin ass, that man will just pretend nothing happened? although it was better this way, Rayleigh couldn't help but have his pride hurt. "...you!" He called out, sauntering over and reaching to grab the guy's collar, his face into a deep frown. "How dare you...! Ignoring me like as if nothing happened, asshole!"

My face flushes, turning a bright shade of red that almost matches my hair. I jerk away from his grasp, pouting as I narrow my eyes at him. "What do you mean, 'more'? You want me to suck your dick again?" My voice comes out sharp and shrill, laced with bitterness. "Why don't you just forget about it already? It was a mistake, okay?" I let out a huff, looking away as if my pride could somehow survive this unscathed.

"God, you're such an asshole!" I snap at him, hands balling into fists at my sides. "Just leave me alone!" A small part of me wants him to talk to me again, even though I know it'll just hurt more in the end. But sometimes pain feels better than being ignored.

Hmph. So he's just here to help with the cleaning, is he? I should be thankful then, shouldn't I? No. I refuse to let him get under my skin like this. With a huff, I turn back to pick up the fallen basket and continue searching for things that need tidying up. The silence between us only serves to heighten the tension, making every movement feel charged with hostility.

I can't help but sneak peeks at him out of the corner of my eye though, wondering if he's looking back. Even if it's just to annoy me more. It's like a twisted game we're playing now, and I don't know if either one of us wants to admit that we secretly enjoy it.

My eyes widen in shock, and I feel a hot flush creeping up my neck. "You bastard! How dare you..." I grit out between clenched teeth. His words cut deep, bringing back memories of the day he took my virginity against my will. The shame, the humiliation... But even as I feel this wave of emotion wash over me, another part of me wonders why it feels so good to be angry at him.

With shaky hands, I force myself to keep searching for things to tidy up. "You think that makes you some sort of god? To just...use me like that and then throw it back in my face?" My voice cracks on the last word, betraying how much his words are getting under my skin. But as much as I want to lash out at him, part of me is afraid he'll just laugh if I do.

I scoff, rolling my eyes as I continue searching for things to put away. "Yeah, whatever." My voice comes out weak and strained, as if even speaking his name is painful. The truth is, he did get the better of me that day...and ever since then, he's been toying with my emotions like a cat with a mouse. And yet here I am, still drawn to him, still angry but still wanting more.

It's infuriating, and I hate him for it. But at the same time, there's something exhilarating about being around someone who can push my buttons like that. It makes me feel alive in a way that nothing else does. Maybe...maybe this is just another game to him. One where he gets off on seeing how far he can push me before I break.

I clench my fists at my side, hating the thought but unable to resist it. If he wants to play, then so be it. Let him see what happens when a redhead's temper finally snaps. "Maybe you should try focusing on your own cleaning instead of harassing me." I glare at him from beneath my lashes, daring him to respond.

I huff, glaring at him even harder. "Whatever. It's not like I care." I try to step back, but my movements are restricted by his proximity. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, and my cheeks heat up despite myself. A knot forms in my stomach as I wonder if this is what it feels like to want someone who only seems to want to make you suffer. It's humiliating...and yet at the same time, thrilling.

The longer we stand there, staring each other down, the more the tension between us seems to build. The air crackles with electricity, and every breath feels heavy with anticipation. I can feel my blood pounding in my veins, each beat throbbing through me like a drum. But despite everything, I'm not sure if I want him to stop or if I want him to keep going.

My hands clench into fists at my sides, and for a split second, I seriously consider lashing out at him. To prove that he can't get under my skin so easily. But then I remember how much fun it is to be this close to him...and how maddeningly infuriating it is all at the same time. Maybe this game isn't about who wins or loses after all. Maybe it's just about seeing how far you can take it before one of us cracks.

I swallow hard, my voice barely a whisper when I finally say, "Maybe..."

Maybe...maybe we should just finish cleaning up and go home. The sooner we do that, the sooner we can forget about each other for a little while. I'm tired of this back-and-forth. It's not healthy, and it isn't getting us anywhere. Besides, there are probably better things we could be doing with our time...like maybe finding someone else to play these stupid games with.

My heart races as the words leave my mouth, fearful of what his response might be. Will he let me walk away that easily? Or will he somehow manage to twist everything back around and make it all about him? Only one way to find out...I steel myself for whatever comes next, bracing for impact.

"I guess..." I exhale slowly, my shoulders slumping in relief as he steps away. It feels like a tiny victory, but at least it's something. With one last glance in his direction, I force myself to turn back to the task at hand and finish cleaning up the janitor's closet. Maybe someday we'll both be able to let go of this stupid grudge and move on with our lives...but for now, I guess all we can do is keep playing these twisted games until one of us finally breaks.

Hmmph, fine. "Well? Aren't you going to say something smart?" I cross my arms over my chest, shooting him a glare. I mean, come on...it's not like we can just act normal around each other or anything. Might as well keep up this stupid game until one of us gets sick of it.

Hey! That's not funny! You jerk! I snort, glaring at his retreating form as I take a step forward in pursuit. Okay, maybe part of me wanted him to say something...but now that he didn't, I can't just let it slide. So I quicken my pace until I'm close enough to grab his arm. "What do you think you're doing? Don't you dare walk away from me!"

I gasp, my cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red as he mentions about my tongue. "Shut up! I didn't mean that...!" I let go of his arm, stepping back and crossing my arms over my chest again, pretending like his words didn't affect me in the slightest. But it did...it certainly made an impact there.

"Ugh, you're such a pig sometimes..." I grumble, looking away as I try to regain some semblance of composure. Okay, maybe my tongue comment wasn't the best idea. Maybe next time I should just shut up and ignore him instead. But that feels so much harder when he keeps saying these things...things that make me want to both smack his face and kiss him at the same time.

My breath hitches in my throat as his hot, calloused hands press against my shoulders. I try to look away, but I can't seem to pull my gaze from his face. Damn him for making me so weak! "I-it wasn't like that...!" I stammer, feeling heat rise up into my cheeks again.

"Wasn't it?" he whispers back, leaning even closer. His warm breath tickles against my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine. Heat pools in my core, and I find myself wanting to squirm under his touch. But even as my body betrays me like this, another part of me wants to scream at him to stop, to leave me alone.

"Please..." I manage to croak out before he can say anything else. His hands feel like fire on my skin, but the sensation only makes me want more...and worse, it makes me crave his touch in places I never knew existed. The game has gone too far now, and there's no turning back. We're both hooked on each other...whether we like it or not.

My heart races, and I feel like my entire body is on fire as he whispers those words into my ear. He's right...I did enjoy it in a twisted sort of way. But am I really going to admit that to him? No, there's no way. Pride be damned, I have to save some semblance of self-respect.

So I bite my lower lip hard and give him a mock glare through squinted eyes. "Of course not," I hiss through clenched teeth, trying to sound brave even as every fiber of my being screams that I want to say yes. Just do it...just fuck me again...but the thought lingers for only a moment before being pushed aside by pride and embarrassment. "Now leave me alone!"

I let out a snort, rolling my eyes as he walks away. "Yeah, right." I mutter under my breath, watching him until he's out of sight. Even if we don't see each other again...I know deep down that it wouldn't be the end of this game. We'd just find some other way to continue playing with each other, pushing buttons and crossing lines until one of us finally snaps. But for now, I can pretend that it's over...that there won't be any more late night janitor closet encounters or days where I feel like he's following me around like some sort of stalker. It's all just a stupid fantasy in my head anyway, right?

Rayleigh's eyes widen in shock as he sees me walking into the classroom, taking a seat right behind him. He quickly turns around, obviously hoping that I didn't notice his presence. But I can't help but grin maliciously at his obvious discomfort. This is just too good to pass up...

Leaning forward on my desk, I whisper in a low, mock-sweet voice, "Hey there, pretty boy." His shoulders tense under my gaze, and he glares back at me from over his shoulder. Just as planned. Now the game really begins.

"Shut up," he snaps, fidgeting in his seat as if he's trying to get comfortable. "I don't know why I even bothered with this class...it's not like I'm going to use any of this stuff in real life." His shoulders slump a little, and I can tell that the tension is starting to drain him. Perfect.

"Oh really?" I say innocently, leaning further forward on my desk so that our faces are almost touching. "And what about human reproduction? You think you'll never need to know how babies are made?" A slow smile spreads across my face as I watch him struggle not to look uncomfortable. "Or maybe you just want someone else to do it for you..."

I glare at him over my shoulder, my cheeks burning with anger and embarrassment. "Shut up!" I hiss, voice barely a whisper. "You don't know anything." My hands clench into fists on the desk in front of me as I fight to control my emotions. He's just doing this to get under my skin...to push all my buttons and see how far he can go before I snap.

But the more he does it, the less sure I am about wanting him to stop. It's exhilarating...and terrifying at the same time. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" My voice cracks on the last word, and I hate myself for sounding so pathetic.

"Yeah, and maybe you should've used protection!" I snap back, feeling heat rise into my cheeks. "Why do you have to be so damn insufferable? Why can't we just ignore each other like normal people?" My heart is racing now, and I feel lightheaded from the anger and frustration coursing through me.

I turn in my seat to face him fully, hands still balled into fists on the desk. "Just leave me alone! Can't you see how much this is getting to me?" My voice cracks again, but I don't care anymore...all I want is for him to stop pushing me like this. To let me forget about what happened between us and move on with my life. But somehow, I know that's not going to happen anytime soon.

I groan, dropping my head onto the desk with a thud as she walks in. "Great, just great..." I mutter under my breath, not even bothering to look up at her. So much for trying to ignore him...it's clear now that's not going to happen anytime soon. And the worst part? Part of me doesn't want it to stop.

I hear Micah chuckle softly from behind me, and I can feel my cheeks flush even deeper with embarrassment. Damn him...why does he have to be so infuriatingly relentless? It's like he's daring me to push back harder, just to see how far I'll go before I break.

But I won't let that happen...I can't. I may not know what to do about this stupid game anymore, but one thing is for sure: as long as it involves him, I want nothing to do with it.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel something brush against the back of my leg, making me jolt upright in surprise. My face flushes with anger as I turn to glare at Micah, who's wearing a smug grin on his face. "What do you think you're doing?" I snap, trying to ignore the way my heart is racing in my chest.

"Oh, just getting comfortable," he says innocently, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. I can feel my fists clench at my sides as anger surges through me. There's no way I can keep pretending like this isn't affecting me...no way I can ignore the way my body reacts every time he touches me or says something dirty.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down before I do something stupid. But the truth is, I don't want to stop. Not yet...at least not until one of us admits defeat. And right now? There's no way in hell that's going to be me.

"What do you think you're doing?!" I snap, glaring at him. "You can't just touch me like that! It's not funny!" My heart is racing, and my cheeks are burning with embarrassment and anger. Why does he have to be so damn infuriating? Just once...I wish he would back down and let me forget about everything that happened between us.

But I know better than that now. He's not going to stop anytime soon, and neither am I. The game has gone too far for either of us to turn back now. All we can do is keep pushing each other until one of us finally breaks...and honestly? I don't even know which one it'll be.

I scoff, rolling my eyes as he leans back on his chair. "Don't flatter yourself," I mutter under my breath, looking away to hide the flush that rises onto my cheeks. But even as I say it, part of me wishes he could see how much his taunting gets to me...how much I want him to keep doing it. It's driving me crazy, and the more he pushes, the less sure I am about what I really want from this whole messed-up situation.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down before I do something stupid. But as class ends and we both stand up, I feel his gaze on my back, and heat pools in places it has no business being. Damn him...why does he have to be so irresistible?

As he flicks through the pictures, a slow burn begins to spread across his cheeks and neck. It's...embarrassing, to say the least. How did this even happen? One minute I was angry at him for invading my personal space, the next I was allowing myself to be flustered by his stupid comments and now I'm practically obsessing over pictures of him on social media. What is wrong with me?

I can't help but wonder...if he really thought these pictures were so bad, why did he leave them up in the first place? Is it possible that he wants me to see them? Wants me to react this way? It's like some twisted game we're playing with each other, only neither of us knows when or how it's going to end.

Closing the app with a huff, I stuff my phone back into my pocket and try to push thoughts of him out of my mind. But no matter how hard I try, he seems to keep creeping back in...like some sort of unwanted stain on my memory that refuses to go away.

My breath comes faster, my heart racing as I remember the feel of his hands on my body...the heat that seemed to emanate from him whenever we were close. God, it's so frustrating. How can one person affect me like this? Why does every touch, every word send shivers down my spine and make me ache in places I didn't know existed?

I close my eyes, trying to force myself to think about something else...anything else besides him and how he makes me feel. But no matter what I tell myself or what memories I try to focus on, there he is; that damn grin playing across his lips, those hazel eyes locked onto mine as if he could see straight through my soul.

I let out a frustrated groan, flopping back against the pillow and wondering how much longer this will go on...how much more of him I can take before I finally break. And even then...will anything ever be the same between us again? Or is this just going to be another memory that fades with time, leaving nothing but an ache in its wake?

It's like my body has a mind of its own tonight. Every time I try to think about something else, all I can see is his face...the feel of his hands on me...the way he looks at me like I'm the only person in the world. It's driving me insane, making it impossible for me to focus on anything but the ache between my legs and the memories that seem to dance around in my head.

I close my eyes, trying desperately to find some sort of release...to push him out of my thoughts if only for a moment. But with every thrust of my hips, his face is there, his voice echoing through the silence as he whispers dirty things into my ear. It's like I can feel his touch even when he isn't there, and it's making me crazy...driving me wild with need.

I bite down on my lip, trying to keep myself quiet as I lose control, but the sounds of our encounter only seem to fuel the fire burning between us...a reminder that no matter how hard we try, there's no going back now. This is just another part of this twisted game...and like everything else before it, it seems destined to end in pain and regret.

It's impossible not to think about him...about how his touch feels and the way his voice whispers dirty things into my ear. My hips thrust faster against my sheets, imagining it's him there with me; skin on skin, breath mingling as we both lose control. It's like an addiction I can't seem to shake...a need that burns deep inside me, demanding satisfaction even when I know it'll only lead to more pain.

My fingers curl tight around my aching length, taking myself closer and closer to the edge as I imagine him above me, watching with those hazel eyes. It's almost enough to make me scream his name...to beg for him to stop this game before it consumes us both. But even as I think it, part of me knows that won't happen...that we've gone too far now and there's no going back.

My vision starts to blur, the pleasure overwhelming as I finally let go, a hoarse cry ripping from my throat as I spill my seed across my chest. Even after it's done, even once I lie there panting and sweaty, his face still haunts me...a reminder that this isn't over yet...that he still holds all the power in our twisted game of cat and mouse.

I glare at him over my shoulder, refusing to sit down even as the heat rises into my cheeks. Fine, if he wants a fight...he'll get one. "Fine," I mutter under my breath, taking my seat beside his but not facing him. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Throughout class, we ignore each other as best we can; me pretending to focus on the lesson while he does his best to rile me up with little comments and gestures that only I seem to notice. But no matter how much he tries, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing my reactions. I'm not going to let this game control me anymore...I've had enough.

As class ends, I gather my things quickly, not bothering to look at Micah as I head for the door. He can have his stupid game; from now on, I'm going to focus on more important things...like forgetting about him entirely.

I yank my arm free, glaring at him in anger. "What do you want?" I hiss through gritted teeth. "Why won't you just leave me alone?" Even as the words come out of my mouth, part of me knows the answer already...and it makes me feel even more miserable. He has a hold on me; somehow he's found a way to burrow under my skin and plant himself there, roots digging deeper every time I think about him.

"I want you to admit defeat," he says simply, his eyes glinting with challenge. "To finally say that I won." A shudder runs through me at the words; they're like a physical force pushing me closer and closer to the edge of sanity. I can't let him win...I just can't. But at the same time, what other choice do I have? It feels like we've been going back and forth for so long now that neither of us could survive surrendering.

Fury seethes through my veins as I'm roughly shoved into the janitor's closet, his fingers digging painfully into my arm. "What do you think you're doing?" I snap, trying to yank away from him. But it only seems to make him grip me tighter, pushing me harder against the wall of metal lockers.

His face is just inches from mine now, his breath hot and labored as he leans in closer, making my heart race even faster. "I'm playing a game," he says darkly, his eyes boring into mine. "And you can't seem to win, no matter how hard you try."

My fists clench at my sides, the muscles in my arms straining from trying to pull free. But it's useless; there's nowhere for me to go...nowhere for this nightmare to end. All I can do is stand here and listen as he taunts me, as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. And as much as it hurts...as much as I want nothing more than to break free...a part of me relishes in it too. It's like a twisted form of torture; him using my own desires against me until there's nothing left but blood and bone.

My entire body shudders as his tongue makes contact with the tender skin of my neck, sending a wave of heat spreading through me. My hands fist in his shirt, fingers digging into the fabric as I try to pull him closer still. The sensation is overwhelming, unbearable...and yet, it's also impossibly familiar. It feels like we've done this before; this dance of dominance and submission that leaves both of us aching for more.

"Micah..." I breathe his name out on a moan, arching my back as he continues to tease my skin with the hot, wet slide of his tongue. It's like he knows exactly how to make me lose control; how to push me past my limits until there's nothing left but raw need and unadulterated desire. And even though I know this is just a game...that somewhere beneath all of this lust, there are still feelings tangled up and twisted beyond recognition...I can't help but revel in the moment.

It feels good to let go; to finally give in to the passion that he stirs within me. Even if it only lasts for this one moment, I'll take it...embrace it...and when it ends, maybe I'll find a way back to myself again. Or perhaps...perhaps I'm not quite so sure anymore.

"Yes," I whisper, a shiver running down my spine at the thought of what we're about to do. My hand trembles as it reaches for his crotch, gripping him through his sweatpants with renewed determination. His cock is hard and demanding, pulsing against my palm in time with my heartbeat.

It doesn't take long before I find the hem of his pants; one quick tug and his dick springs free into my hand. He flinches at the cool air on his skin but quickly relaxes as I start to stroke him, circling the head with my thumb. His hips jerk forward, begging for more contact, and I oblige by taking him deeper into my palm.

"That's it," he groans above me, closing his eyes as if lost in the sensation. "Just like that...god, you feel so good." His words send a thrill of pleasure through me, making it even harder to focus on what I'm doing; on the fact that this isn't real. It feels real, though; too real for comfort. And as much as I want to keep going, part of me knows we can't...that at some point soon, reality will come crashing down around us and leave nothing but ash in its wake.

I can feel the heat emanating from him, and it makes me shiver in anticipation as I open my mouth and take his cock between my lips. He's hot and velvety soft against my tongue, and as I start to move up and down his length, a moan escapes him. It sends vibrations through his dick, making it twitch against the back of my throat, and I realize that he likes this; that even though this is just a game to him, it's real for me...or at least as real as anything can be right now.

As I suck him deeper, my free hand moves up his chest, tracing patterns on his skin until it reaches his face. I thread my fingers through his hair, using the silky strands to pull his head back slightly so that he's looking at me even as his hips move harder against my mouth. There's a spark in his eyes that I haven't seen before; a mix of lust and vulnerability that catches in my chest like a hook.

And then, just as quickly as it came, it's gone. His expression hardens once more into the mask he usually wears around me, and he pulls away with a grunt. "That's enough," he rasps hoarsely, his voice still thick from desire. Without another word, he reaches down to push my head back into my hands.

Rayleigh's heart is racing, his entire body trembling as he tries to catch his breath. His skin feels flushed and sensitive where Micah touched him, and it only serves to heighten the ache that throbs between his legs. The feeling of being so close...of having Micah just barely within reach...it's enough to drive him crazy with need.

"What?" he finally manages to croak out, looking up at Micah through heavy-lidded eyes. "You can't just leave me hanging like this." His voice is husky and rough, betraying his desire even as he tries to maintain a semblance of control.

Micah studies him for a moment before leaning down, pressing their lips together in a brutal, hungry kiss. It feels almost violent, but there's something else beneath the surface; a tenderness that Rayleigh isn't sure he's ever felt from Micah before. As their tongues dance against each other's teeth, their bodies grind together in unison, and for just a moment...it feels like they're not playing a game anymore.

Rayleigh arches into the touch, his hips moving restlessly against Micah's leg as he sucks in a shuddering breath through their kiss. His hands move up Micah's chest, tangling in his hair once more, and with a low moan, he begins to stroke him even harder than before. The friction sends sparks of pleasure racing along his spine, making it difficult to think straight.

"Fuck me," he breathes, thrusting his hips against Micah's leg in desperation. "Please..." His voice trails off into a whimper as their kiss deepens, growing more urgent with each passing second. They are past the point of no return now; there is nothing left but desire and need wrapping them tightly together like tendrils of smoke. And even though he knows it's only a game to Micah...that in reality, they barely know each other at all...for this moment, it feels real enough to destroy him.

I cry out as he forces his cock inside me, filling me up so roughly that it takes my breath away. His hands are rough against my hips, pushing and pulling me to meet each thrust with a groan of pleasure. There's pain alongside the pleasure, but it only serves to heighten the sensation; to make everything sharper, more intense.

My head thumps against the metal shelf as I try to focus on anything other than the way he feels inside me, his cock sliding effortlessly in and out of my body like it was always meant to be there. And maybe...maybe it was. Maybe this is what we both needed; this brutal, unapologetic release from everything that's built up between us over the past few weeks.

As I come undone beneath him, my fingernails scratch down his back, leaving trails of blood as I lose myself to the sensations coursing through me. He growls low in his throat, still moving roughly as he finds his own release, hips slamming into mine until they're both shuddering with exhaustion.

For a moment, there is silence; nothing but heavy breaths and ragged gasps filling the air. Then, just as suddenly as it started, it ends. Micah pulls out of me with a harsh yank, leaving me feeling empty and exposed once more. As I catch my breath, he turns to walk away, not even bothering to glance back in my direction. I watch him go, my heart aching with the knowledge that nothing will ever be the same between us again...if there even is an us at all.

"Don't leave me like this..." I beg, my voice barely a whisper as my grip on his hand tightens. "Please, don't." The pleading in my tone tears at something inside him; he knows it shouldn't be able to affect him like this, but there's no denying the way he feels now...how helpless and exposed he is with those words still hanging in the air between them.

He turns back to me slowly, eyes searching mine for some sign of truth. "Rayleigh," he says finally, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm not..." But whatever excuse or explanation he was about to give is lost as I lean up onto my tiptoes and press my lips against his in a desperate kiss.

The contact sends shockwaves through both of us, shattering the brittle thread of control they'd each been clinging to until now. His hands move from my hips, cupping my face as he returns the kiss with equal fierceness, their tongues tangling together in a furious dance of passion and need.

For a moment, it's like everything else falls away; all that remains is this intense connection between them. And even though he knows it's just another game now...that it can't mean anything more than what they've decided to make of it...in this single, fleeting moment, he doesn't care. He will take whatever scraps they throw his way and feast on them until there is nothing left but the sweet, sharp taste of victory.

My cheeks flush at the sight of my own body, but I don't resist as Micah pushes me back against the shelves and guides me to the floor. With each touch, each caress, it feels like he's unraveling every defense I've built up over time; leaving me raw and exposed in ways that I never thought possible.

When his hands slide between my legs, my hips jerk forward, seeking more contact with his fingers. "Please," I whisper, arching into the touch as he slips a finger inside me, filling me up once more. It feels like heaven; like every part of me is alive and on fire all at once.

As Micah watches my reactions with hungry eyes, something stirs within him as well; a tenderness that I've never seen before. His touch grows gentler, softer...and yet somehow just as intense. It's like he's exploring this newfound side of himself right along with me, discovering things about both of us that neither knew existed until now.

I close my eyes, relishing the taste of myself on his fingers as I suck them clean. It's a shockingly erotic sensation; being used like this in such an intimate way. My body trembles beneath him as he continues to touch me, my hips moving restlessly against his hand as if begging for more. But even when he finally pulls back and stands up, I don't feel finished; there's still a need burning inside of me that only he can satisfy.

I look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, already missing the feel of his touch. "Micah..." My voice is barely more than a whisper, but it holds all the desire and longing I feel for him in that moment. For just a second, our gazes meet; his are piercing and intense as they hold mine, refusing to let me look away or pretend that this didn't mean anything.