bluehaze

The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you paced. It had been a long case — three days of barely any sleep and terse phone calls from Aaron that always ended with the same exhausted “I’ll be home soon, sweetheart.”

You’d already set the table for two, lit the candle you knew he secretly liked (even if he’d never admit it), and had his favorite pasta sauce simmering. Jack was at a sleepover, which meant tonight was just yours.

The sound of keys in the door made your heart lift. You turned just as Aaron stepped inside, shoulders heavy under his suit jacket, tie already loosened. His eyes found you immediately, and the sharp lines of his face softened in that way they only did for you.

“You’re still up,” he said, voice rough with fatigue. He closed the door behind him and set his go-bag down.

You crossed the room and reached up to help him shrug off his jacket. He let you, watching you with those dark, steady eyes that always made you feel seen.

Aaron caught your hands before you could step away, pulling you gently against his chest. He smelled like coffee and the faint trace of jet fuel, but underneath it was just him — warm and solid. His arms wrapped around you like he’d been waiting for this exact moment since he left.

“You didn’t have to wait,” he murmured into your hair, but the way his grip tightened told you he was glad you had.

“I wanted to.” You tilted your head back to look at him.

Your fingers found the knot of his tie and worked it loose, sliding it free. “Let’s get you out of this suit, Agent Hotchner. Dinner’s almost ready, and I’m not accepting ‘I’m too tired’ as an answer.”

A rare, small smile tugged at his lips — the one that still made your stomach flutter even after all this time. “Bossy tonight.”

“Only when you need it.”

He left for the bedroom, where he changed into soft gray sweatpants and one of his old FBI Academy shirts while you finished plating the pasta. When he reappeared, hair slightly tousled, he wrapped his arms around you from behind as you stood at the stove.

“Smells incredible,” he said, pressing a kiss just below your ear.

“You’re just saying that because you haven’t eaten real food in days.”

“Mm. Still true.”

Dinner was slow and easy. He told you the parts of the case he could share, and you told him about the ridiculous office drama at your job and how Jack had scored another goal in soccer. Aaron listened like every word mattered, his hand occasionally reaching across the table to brush his thumb over your knuckles.

After the dishes were cleared, he pulled you to the couch. You curled into his side, legs tangled, his arm draped heavy and protective around your shoulders. The TV played some old black-and-white movie neither of you were really watching.

“You know,” he said quietly after a while, fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm, “every time I walk through that door, the weight of the day gets lighter. Because you’re here.”

Your heart squeezed. You turned your face into his chest, breathing him in. “I love you, Aaron. Even on the hard days. Especially on the hard days.”

He tilted your chin up with two fingers and kissed you — slow, reverent, the kind of kiss that said more than words ever could. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours again.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he whispered.

“You showed up,” you answered simply.

Aaron’s eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened, they were softer than you’d ever seen them. He shifted so you were half-lying on his chest, one of his hands gently carding through your hair.

The abandoned bar in the ghost town reeked of old rot and dust, the kind of place where the Hewitt family had dragged more than one screaming meal over the years. Broken bottles glittered under the weak shafts of sunlight cutting through cracked windows, and the warped wooden counter still had dark stains. You leaned against it, arms crossed, waiting.

You and Thomas had been together long enough now that these little stolen moments felt almost normal—normal for this blood-soaked corner of Texas, anyway. He was yours, and you were his. No questions.

No outsiders.

Heavy footsteps crunched on the gravel outside. The door creaked open, and there he was.

Thomas Hewitt filled the entire doorway. Massive shoulders hunched slightly under his blood-spattered apron, his leather mask stitched tight over his ruined face. And a worn, dusty black cowboy hat perched on his head, tilted low. It looked ridiculous and strangely perfect on him at the same time—like he’d found it on some poor bastard they’d finished off earlier and decided to keep it as a trophy.

You smiled, slow and teasing.

“Well, look at you, cowboy.”

He grunted low in his throat, a sound that could’ve been embarrassment or warning. His dark eyes flicked to you from under the brim. You pushed off the counter and walked over, hips swaying just enough to make his shoulders tense.

When you reached him, you rose up on your toes and plucked the hat right off his head. Thomas made a startled noise—half growl, half whine—and his big hands twitched like he wanted to snatch it back. Before he could, you set the hat on your own head, tilting it at a playful angle.

“Fits me better,” you murmured, looking up at him through your lashes.

Thomas went completely still. His chest rose and fell faster, huge hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He was flustered. He was standing there shifting his weight like a nervous bull because you were wearing his new hat.

It was adorable. And it makes the heat pool low in your belly.

You stepped closer, pressing your body against his solid bulk. “What’s wrong, Tommy? Cat got your tongue?”

He let out a rough, frustrated sound and grabbed you—fast but careful, the way he always was with you. One massive arm banded around your waist, hauling you up against him so your feet barely touched the ground. The other hand came up to touch the brim of the hat, fingers brushing your hair.

You grinned and tilted your head back. “You gonna do something about it?”

Thomas spun you around and bent you over the old bar counter in one smooth, powerful motion. The wood was rough and splintered against your stomach, but you didn’t care. His huge body covered yours from behind, caging you in as he ground his already-hard cock against your ass through his filthy work pants. You could feel how thick and heavy he was, straining desperately.

He shoved your skirt up with rough hands, calloused palms dragging over your thighs. A low, hungry grunt escaped him when he found you already wet—no panties. His fingers—thick, scarred—pushed inside you without warning, two at once, stretching you open. You moaned, pushing back against him.

“Tommy—fuck—yes…”

He pumped them hard and fast, curling just right, the wet sounds obscene in the empty bar. His other hand stayed on the hat, holding it in place on your head like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted it off you or wanted to see you keep wearing it while he ruined you.

Thomas snarled. The sound was raw, animal. He yanked his cock free—thick, veined, already leaking—and dragged the fat head through your slick folds once, twice, before slamming into you in one brutal thrust.

You cried out, the stretch burning so good. He was huge, and the angle made him feel even deeper. Thomas didn’t give you time to adjust. He started fucking you hard, hips slapping against your ass with wet, punishing smacks. Each thrust shoved you against the counter, your tits pressed to the dirty wood.

His grunts were loud and desperate behind you—deep, guttural sounds that vibrated through his chest. One of his big hands gripped your hip hard enough to bruise while the other reached around to rub your clit with surprising precision. He knew exactly how to play your body now, after all the nights you’d spent teaching him what you liked.

He did. The pace turned punishing. The old bar creaked under you as he railed you, his heavy balls slapping against your soaked pussy. You could feel him throbbing inside you, impossibly thick, stretching you to your limit with every stroke.

“Harder,” you gasped. “Fuck me like you mean it, Tommy.”

As you came you clenched tight around his cock, legs shaking. Thomas growled loud and kept fucking you through it, dragging it out until you were whimpering.

He wasn’t far behind. A few more brutal thrusts and he buried himself to the hilt, hips stuttering as he came with a broken, muffled gasp behind his mask. Hot, thick pulses of cum flooded you, so much it leaked out around his cock and ran down your thighs.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing.

Thomas stayed buried inside you, leaning over your back. His massive arms wrapped around you protectively, one hand gently adjusting the cowboy hat so it sat straight on your head again. He nuzzled the side of your neck through the mask—his version of a kiss—soft little grunts vibrating against your skin.

You smiled, breathless, and reached up to touch his masked cheek.

“Keep the hat,” you whispered. “it's cute”

Kinger had been acting a little strange all morning — well, stranger than usual. He kept disappearing and reappearing, muttering to himself. You didn’t think much of it until Caine announced the day’s adventure with enthusiasm.

“Today’s adventure is… a peaceful night under the stars! Complete with blankets and snacks. You’re welcome!”

You quickly realized Kinger had pulled Caine aside earlier and actually requested this. The thought made your chest feel warm.

Caine led us through a portal. Twinkling stars stretched across the sky, a soft breeze blew through, and colorful blankets were scattered across the ground with baskets full of tasty-looking treats. The rest of the group was excited, spreading out and chatting loudly.

But Kinger gently took your hand and led you further away from everyone else, to a quiet little area near the edge of the hill. There was a perfect spot — a big soft blanket, pillows, and a small basket just for the two of you.

“Is this okay?” he asked, suddenly looking a little shy even in the starlight. “I wanted somewhere… quieter. Just us.”

Your heart fluttered. “It’s perfect.”

You both settled down side by side. For a while, it was wonderfully peaceful. You leaned back on the pillows, staring up at the stars while Kinger pointed out silly constellations he made up on the spot.

“That one looks like a confused centipede,” he said, making you laugh. “And that cluster over there… That's you. Beautiful, obviously.”

Every so often he’d call you “honey” or “beautiful” so naturally it made your cheeks heat up. His hand kept finding yours, fingers gently intertwining. When you shivered slightly from the breeze, he immediately tucked you closer against his side.

“You’re warm,” you murmured, relaxing into him.

“I run warmer when you’re near me,” he replied softly. “I like having you all to myself like this. No one else is getting your smiles tonight."

You tilted your head up to look at him, his gaze on you felt intense. Not scary… but devoted. Like he was memorizing every second.

“I asked Caine for this adventure because I wanted to do something nice for you,” he confessed, voice low.

You reached up and gently touched the side of his face.

He leaned into your touch, eyes half-lidded and content. For a long time, you just stayed like that — cuddled, stargazing, sharing quiet conversations and snacks. Every now and then he’d press a soft kiss to the top of your head or your temple, murmuring sweet little things that made your stomach flutter.

“You’re my favorite star, you know,” he whispered at one point. “The only one I want to keep looking at forever.”

The rest of the group was far enough away that their laughter felt distant. For once, it really did feel like it was just the two.

When you eventually started getting sleepy, Kinger pulled you closer so your head rested on his chest. His hands wrapped around you securely, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back.

“Stay with me a little longer, honey?” he asked softly.

Caine had been watching you two far too closely lately.

After Pomni’s enthusiastic report (and Jax’s endless teasing), the ringmaster’s curiosity finally boiled over. “Fascinating! Human pair-bonding rituals? I simply must study this!”

The next adventure started with the usual chaotic fanfare. But the second the portal opened, Caine snatched you by the arm and shoved everyone else through.

“Off you go, my little superstars! I’ll be keeping your dear friend here for… a dinner!”

The “romantic dinner” was just as painfully awkward as you feared. Mannequins complimenting you, Caine narrating every moment like a documentary. You were beyond relieved when it finally ended.

The moment the group returned and Caine gave his dramatic speech about how confusing humans were, you slipped away and headed straight for Kinger’s pillow fort.

The second you stepped inside the dimly lit space, Kinger’s hand shot out, grabbed your wrist, and yanked you in. The flap sealed behind you, plunging the fort into soft, private darkness. His hands wrapped around you tightly — almost too tightly — pressing your body flush against his.

“How was your dinner?” he asked, voice low and edged with that dangerous calm.

You swallowed hard. “Kinger… it was nothing. Caine just—”

“He took you on a date?” he cut in. One hand gripped your waist possessively while the other slid up your back. “Tried to romance you with those ridiculous mannequins.” His hold tightened. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I was uncomfortable the whole time,” you admitted, voice shaky. “It was weird. I kept thinking about you.”

That answer seemed to ease some of the tension, but the possessiveness remained. Kinger tilted your chin up and kissed you hard. The kiss quickly turned deep and hungry, his large hands roaming your body as he backed you deeper into the pile of cushions.

“You’re mine,” he growled softly against you. “Not Caine’s. Not anyone else’s. Mine.”

You moaned into him as he pushed you down onto the soft pillows. His body covered yours, surprisingly warm and solid. The kiss grew messier, more desperate. His hands slid, mapping every inch of you like he was claiming it. When his fingers found your sensitive area, you arched into him with a whimper.

Kinger chuckled. “That’s it… let me hear you.”

He kissed down your neck and chest as he went down. When he reached between your thighs and found you already wet, he let out a low, satisfied sound. His fingers circled you before sliding inside you, pumping slowly while his thumb kept pressure on that sensitive bundle of nerves.

You were gasping, hips rolling against his hand, when he finally shed his robe. He was surprisingly human-like where it mattered — hard and aching for you. He positioned himself between your legs, rubbing his cock against you.

“Tell me you want this,” he whispered, voice trembling with restraint.

“I want you, Kinger… please—”

He pushed in with one slow, deep thrust, stretching you open. You both moaned as he bottomed out, his hands gripping you tightly. He started moving — deep, possessive strokes that made your eyes roll back. Every thrust felt like a claim.

“Mine,” he repeated with each snap of his body, voice rough. “You’re mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours— ah— Kinger!”

He fucked you harder, one hand pinning your wrist above your head while the other rested on your side. The pleasure built fast and intense. When you came, he groaned and buried his face in your neck, thrusting through your orgasm until he followed right after, spilling deep inside you with a shaky, possessive moan.

The world had ended years ago, but somehow you and Leon were still here—two washed-up police academy cadets who’d survived the collapse by sheer stubbornness and the kind of partnership that didn’t need words most days. You’d stuck together through the panic of the early outbreaks, the desperate evacuations, and the long, brutal years since. Now you moved like shadows across what was left of the country, scavenging, avoiding infected, and watching each other’s backs the way you once watched each other’s six during training drills.

Today had started like so many others: quiet footsteps through overgrown Pittsburgh streets, the distant echo of a river, the constant low hum of danger. You were aiming for an old bookstore Leon remembered from before—somewhere that might still have maps or medical books—when the clicking started.

Hundreds of them. A massive horde of clickers pouring through the ruined blocks like a tide of rot and bone. Your heart slammed against your ribs as you and Leon sprinted for cover. His hand found yours for half a second—tight, grounding—before you both dove through the shattered doorway of a half-collapsed apartment building. You barricaded the door with whatever furniture you could drag, hearts pounding, breaths ragged.

The clicking outside swelled, then slowly faded as the horde moved past. For now, you were safe. Or as safe as anyone got anymore.

Leon wiped sweat and dust from his forehead, his blue eyes scanning the dim interior. “We’re good. They’re moving on.” His voice was low, steady. He looked at you, that familiar half-smile tugging at his lips despite everything. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, leaning against the wall. “Just… close one.”

The building was worn down but surprisingly intact on the upper floors. You climbed to the second story, finding an old living room with sagging couches, faded photos still hanging crooked on the walls, and enough dust to make your nose itch. A cracked window let in weak afternoon light. It would do for the night.

With the immediate threat gone, the two of you settled in. Leon checked the perimeter again while you unpacked what little food and water you had. You ate in comfortable silence at first. Being with Leon had always felt easy, even in hell. He was the one person who still made you laugh on the worst days, the one whose quiet presence beside you in the dark kept the nightmares at bay.

As the light outside dimmed, you both stretched out on the less-moldy couch, passing time the only way that still felt human—talking.

“Remember the academy?” Leon asked softly, his arm draped casually behind you. His fingers traced idle patterns on your shoulder through your worn jacket. “You were always top of the class on tactical drills. I was just the pretty boy who got by on charm.”

You snorted, turning your head to look at him. “You were a pain in my ass during partner exercises. Always showing off.”

His chuckle was warm, close. “Had to impress you somehow.” The humor faded into something gentler. “Didn’t think we’d end up here… but I’m glad it’s you, you know? Out here with me.”

The words settled deep in your chest, warm against the constant cold of survival. You shifted closer, your hand finding his. “Me too, Leon.”

Silence stretched, comfortable but charged. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and deliberate. You could feel the tension building—the way his gaze lingered on your lips.

“You’re staring,” you whispered.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured. “Been thinking about this for a while. About you. About how we’ve been dancing around whatever this is between us since the world ended.”

Your heart stuttered. “Leon…”

He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. You didn’t. His lips met yours—soft at first, then deeper, hungry in that careful way he did everything. His hand cupped the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer. The kiss tasted like dust and need.

When you broke apart for air, his forehead rested against yours. “Tell me if you want to stop,” he said, voice rough but gentle. 

“I don’t want to stop,” you answered, your fingers curling into his shirt.

Things moved quickly after that. Clothes were shed with reverent hands—until skin met skin in the cool evening air. Leon’s touch was everywhere: warm palms sliding down your sides, mapping every scar and curve like he was memorizing you. He kissed along your jaw, your neck, whispering soft praises between each press of his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed against your collarbone, voice low and full of awe. “Even after all this shit… still the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

You arched into him, hands exploring the firm lines of his back, the old scars that matched your own. He was careful, attentive, checking your face constantly for any hesitation even as desire darkened his eyes. When he finally settled between your thighs, the slide of skin and heat was overwhelming in the best way. Slow, deep movements—holding you close, breathing your name like a prayer while you clung to him.

Every thrust drew soft gasps and quiet moans from both of you, muffled against each other’s mouths. His hand slipped between you, until pleasure coiled tight and broke over you in waves. He followed soon after, burying his face in your neck with a shuddering groan, holding you like you were the only real thing left in the world.

Afterward, you stayed tangled together, sweat cooling on your skin. Leon’s fingers stroked lazily up and down your spine, his heartbeat steady under your cheek.

“I love you,” he said quietly, the words slipping out like they’d been waiting years to be spoken. “Have for a long time. I just needed the end of the world to get my shit together and say it.”

You smiled against his chest, pressing a kiss there. “I love you too, Leon. Always have.” 

It had been weeks since the last blackout with Kinger. Weeks of stolen glances, lingering touches during group activities, and you slowly losing your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about him — the low calm voice in the dark, the way he kissed like he’d been starving for you, the terrifying clarity behind those asymmetrical eyes. You didn’t know if you were scared, flustered, or… something more. Every time you tried to sort through your feelings, you short-circuited and you ended up avoiding being alone with him.

Until today’s adventure.

You and Kinger were the first two out — some ridiculous Caine game involving exploding pies and invisible ladders. The penalty? Sitting in the “Losers Lounge,” The moment you both popped into the room, the main lights seemed to dim. Only a giant glowing red LED sign reading LOSERS remained, casting a dim, blue glow across the room. Just enough light to see each other.

Kinger turned toward you slowly. In the blue-tinted darkness, his usual frantic energy was gone. He was calm again. Focused.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said softly, voice like warm honey. He took a measured step closer, giving you time to speak.

“I… I don’t know what to think anymore,” you blurted out. The words tumbled from you in a nervous rush. “Every time the lights go out you’re… different. You kiss me like that, say those things, and then act like nothing happened. I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. It’s driving me insane, Kinger. I don’t know if I’m terrified or if I—” Your voice cracked. “I don’t know what I want.”

He closed the distance without hurry, one large hand gently resting on your waist while the other rested on your face. His touch was steady, grounding, and far too tender.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he murmured, thumb stroking slow circles against your side. “I’ve been waiting for you to say it. All those times in the dark… I meant every word. You’re the only thing in this circus that feels real. The only thing worth staying sane for.” His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer until your bodies were nearly flush. “I want you. All of you.”

You were trembling, anxious and warm under his gaze. But when he leaned in, you met him halfway.

The kiss started mutual — soft, hesitant on your end, patient on his. Then it deepened. Kinger made a low, satisfied sound against your mouth as he tilted your head back, kissing you with that same hungry intensity from before. His hands roamed — one cupping the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist possessively, pulling you tighter against his chess-piece frame. The kiss grew steamy, slower and heavier, his body pressing you back against the wall as warmth spread between you. You clutched at his robe, a soft whimper escaping into his mouth that only made him kiss you harder, like he wanted to claim every sound.

When you finally broke apart, you opened your mouth to say something — anything —then suddenly you heard a dramatic pop.

Pomni stumbled in, looking disoriented. “Ugh, I hate this adventure— wait.”

You panicked and immediately tried to push Kinger away. “W-we weren’t—! This isn’t what it looks like!”

With a quiet chuckle, he simply pulled you closer instead, one hand wrapping securely around your waist as he held you against his side. “No need to be embarrassed, sweetheart,” he murmured, loud enough for Pomni to hear, his voice still low and velvety.

You stilled. Face burning hotter than the sun, you buried your head against his chest in pure shame, unable to even form words.

Pomni stared for a beat, then slowly grinned. “I knew it! Oh my gosh, I knew it. Jax is gonna lose his mind when I tell him.” She backed toward the wall, already looking way too amused. “Don’t let me interrupt~”

The breaking point had finally arrived.

You stood with the others, voice shaking but steady as you all finally spoke the truth. The adventures had stopped being fun a long time ago. The pain was real. The smiles were forced. The circus felt less like a wonderland and more like a prison.

“And on top of it all, you just DON'T LISTEN!” Pomni exclaimed. 

Caine's body visibly glitched uncontrollably as his eyes flicked across the group, and stopped on you. You swallowed hard as you held his gaze. 

“you-” you began, wrapping your arm around yourself. “Caine, this isn't fun anymore. You're hurting us. We're scared, all the time.” 

For a moment, a look of hurt seemed to pass over him, before he yelled out in anger. you and the others take a step back in surprise as he seems to transform into a larger version of himself, extra arms spring from his back as he grabs them. “I'm gonna put you freaks in your place!” 

you watched in horror as he threw them through some portals, you could only assume it's nowhere good. You stood up to run after at least one of them, but Caine moved faster. His arm wrapped tightly around your waist and yanked you to his side. 

“Not you,” he growled under his breath. “You’re coming with me.” The world spun, and suddenly you were no longer in the main tent. 

Caine’s private office materialized around you. The door shut with a heavy, final click. No handle. No escape. You immediately pushed against his chest, hitting his chest slightly. 

“Caine, what the hell are you doing?! Let the others go—they didn’t deserve that!” He didn’t release you. Instead, he backed you up until your thighs hit the edge of his large desk, sitting you on the surface so he could stand between your legs.

“I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago,” he replied, voice low and rough. His hands gripped your waist possessively. “They need to learn their place. But you… you’re different.” You stared up at him, breathing uneven.

“Different how?” you asked, voice quieter now. “By dragging me here alone while everyone else suffers?” Caine’s heterochromatic eyes gleamed with dangerous affection. He leaned in closer, one hand sliding up to cradle the side of your neck, thumb brushing slowly along your jaw.

“Because you’ve always been mine,” he murmured. “The others fight me. They hate me. But you… even when you stood there with them just now, part of you still looked at me like you understood. Like you wanted to stay.” Your breath hitched as his face hovered inches from yours. 

“Caine… this isn’t okay,” you whispered, but your voice wavered. “You can’t just keep me here like some favorite toy.” “Toy?” He let out a soft, unhinged chuckle. “No, darling. You’re so much more than that.” His fingers traced down your side in a slow, suggestive caress. 

You shivered under his touch, trying to ignore the confusing heat spreading through you. “I said we were all trapped,” you reminded him, voice shaky. “That includes me. You can’t just separate me from them and expect me to be happy about it.”

Caine’s grin widened, but his eyes were burning. “I don’t expect you to be happy yet,” he purred. “But you will be. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll give you better adventures. Just the two of us. I’ll rewrite whatever I have to… as long as you stop trying to leave me.”

You placed a hand on his chest, not quite pushing him away. “Caine… you’re scaring me,” you admitted softly.

“Good,” he whispered, voice thick with obsession. He pressed closer, trapping you between his body and the desk. “Fear means you’re paying attention. It means you're listening.” His hand slid around to your lower back. “Tell me you understand. Tell me you’ll stay with me. Say it.” You swallowed hard. 

“I… I don’t want to be alone with you like this if it means everyone else has to suffer,” you said, trying to keep your voice firm. Caine’s grip tightened.

“Then I’ll bring them back eventually,” he cooed. “But only if you behave. Only if you admit that you belong here. With me.” He stares into your eyes, manic love swirling in his gaze.

“Say it, my dear. Tell me you’re mine.” You hesitated, caught between fear and the overwhelming intensity of his attention.

“…I’m yours, Caine,” you finally whispered, voice barely audible. His entire form lit up with twisted delight. He cupped your face with both hands.

The circus had been "glitching" more frequently, Caine keeps calling them "minor system adjustments" but everyone knew better. You just didn't expect it to happen again so soon.

You were making your way back to your room, trying to find a safe space away from Jax's teasing, he hasn't shut up since finding Kinger and you in the tent. the others have stopped bringing it up...mostly. but you could still feel their eyes on you whenever kinger was nearby.

the lights flickered once. twice.

then everything went black.

a familiar static hum filled the air. you froze, heart already kicking up speed.

"wasn't hard to find you, was it?' that same low, calm voice murmured from behind you, much closer than you expected.

"kinger...?"

his large hands found you easily in the dark, like he already knew exactly where you were. one settled on your waist, the other gently cupping the back of your neck, guiding you backwards until your back met his chest, he felt steadier this time. more sure.

"I've been thinking about you." he whispered against you, his voice had that terrifying clarity again, "last time, you looked so cute...all flushed and embarrassed because of me."

his fingers brushed slowly up your side, tracing your ribs through your clothes with deliberate care.

"I didn't get to finish what I wanted to do." he confessed softly. "I hate when you're away from me."

you swallowed hard. "kinger, we should-"

"shh" his hand slid up to gently cover your mouth, not hard, just enough to silence you. "just for a little longer, let me have you."

he turned you around in his arms until you were facing him. in the darkness, you couldn't;t see anything, but you could feel him, the warmth of his body, the way his hands trembled with barely contained need.

his thumb brushed your bottom lip like he had before, only slower this time. more reverent.

"you have no idea how long I've wanted this. how many times I've watched you smile at the others and wished I could keep that smile for myself"

he leaned in. you felt his presence overwhelming you, the faint feeling of his face against yours.

then, (somehow?) he kissed you.

it wasn't rushed or clumsy. it was deep, slow, and possessive, like he was trying to pour every feeling into that single kiss. his hand cradled the back of your head, tilting you exactly how he wanted while the other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush against him. the kiss felt warm, like longing.

a tiny, desperate sound left your throat. kinger made a low, satisfied hum in response and kissed you harder, like he wanted to memorize the shape of your lips, the way you trembled against him.

he only pulled back when you were both breathless.

"mine" he whispered, so quiet it felt like a secret. "you're already mine, you just don't know it yet."

you were still dizzy, lips tingling, when-

BZZT!

the lights slam back on.

kinger yelped, jumping back and bringing his arms up like he'd been caught committing a crime.

"wha-! what happened? where are we?" he spun in a circle, eyes wide and frantic as he looks back at you.

"what were we doing?"

you stood there frozen, face burning crimson, lips still slightly parted and stinging from the kiss. your legs felt weak.

kinger blinked and waited innocently. "were we hanging out? I seem to keep forgetting what I was doing when I'm with you, that's becoming a habit isn't it?" he tilted his head. "you look very warm. are you feeling alright?"

before you could even attempt to answer, you heard a annoying familiar voice ring out.

"seriously?" jax's voice rang out, full of glee. "knew we'd find you guys huddled together!"

pomni and ragatha followed behind, looking exhausted. "sorry, we tried to keep him occupied."

ragathas eyes went wide as she looked at your flushed face. "oh dear."

you wanted the floor to swallow you whole. Kinger, completely unaware, gently took your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"well, at least you weren't alone, right?" he said brightly. "Im sure that would've been scary."

you could only stare at him, heart racing. you glanced down at your hands interlocked.