Hands gripping her thighs, I flipped us, reversing the position so she landed beneath me with a sharp gasp. The cold floor kissed her back, and she blinked up, startled for the first time.
I leaned over her, my arms pinning her wrists down flat, body hovering inches above hers.
Seems she did manage to win, I couldn't help but react.
Her breath hitched.
"No games now," I said.
My mouth met hers—rougher than before, firmer. Not giving, not asking. Taking. Her lips parted like instinct, a stifled sound caught in her throat. Her legs wrapped around my waist again, out of reactions now.
She kissed back, hands twisting under mine.
I rose my head and parted our tongues but she reacted in kind
Lila grabbed my wrist, dragged me downward before I could speak again,
kissing me like a dare and a challenge all at once.
Clothing slid beneath us. The room spun in quiet surrounding us in the heat. as we rolled my black jeans caught beneath her calf, her top tangled under my shoulder, our breath growing heavier with each movement. We shifted again. Back against tile.
She gasped into my throat, and for a moment, I felt her hand slide behind my lower back—almost like she needed something to anchor herself.
I didn't notice much beyond the scrape of nails, the hitch of her breath, the way our rhythm fell into a sync too smooth to be rehearsed. My thoughts scattered. My control faded by inches.
She moaned something into my ear, probably another line, or maybe nothing at all and then pulled me deeper into her hips, her body arched beneath mine, skin hot with friction.
Words were useless now, just air and noise.
With a final, frustrated tug, we worked the last of our clothes off, a clumsy tangle of limbs and fabric that left us bare against the chilling tile. The cold was a shock, a gasp of reality in the haze, but it lasted only a second before we crashed together again, skin to skin.
I positioned myself between her thighs, the dark hair there a stark contrast to her pale skin. She watched me, her eyes hooded but intensely focused, the game still glinting in their depths. I pressed the head of my cock against her entrance, a slow, deliberate pressure. She was slick, ready. A low hiss of breath escaped her lips and she tilted her hips up to meet me, a silent, impatient invitation. I sank into her in one long, perfect, impossibly tight glide.
Her eyes flew wide open, locking with mine. A shudder wracked her frame, a wave of pure sensation I felt deep inside her body as she enveloped me. The game board had just been wiped clean, and this was the first move. She wrapped her legs higher around my waist, her nails digging into the muscles of my back, not out of pain, but as an anchor, a claim.
I started to move, slow and deliberate, determined to set the pace, to own this rhythm. But Lila was never one to be led. My deliberate pace was a challenge, and she met it, her hips rising to meet my every thrust, not just receiving but taking. It wasn't a fight, not anymore. It was a duel fought with muscle and heat, a dangerous harmony where every push from me was answered by an equal, demanding pull from her.
My control began to fray. The scrape of my stubble against the soft skin of her neck. The guttural moan she swallowed when I found a specific, perfect angle. The intoxicating scent of her arousal, musky and sweet. My thoughts scattered, replaced by a singular, primal focus: the look on her face as I drove deeper, the way her lips parted, the flush that crept up from her chest to stain her throat a lovely rose.
"Luka," she breathed, and my name on her lips was a lit fuse. It wasn't a line, not a plea. It was a command.
That was the end of deliberation. The rhythm shattered, becoming frantic, desperate. I was no longer thinking, only feeling—the slick, wet heat of her clenching around me, the slap of our bodies echoing softly in the quiet room, the raw strength in her legs as she locked me to her. Her head thrashed against the tile, her hair a wild halo around her. She clawed at my shoulders, pulling me down until her cries were muffled against my skin, her body bucking beneath mine in a desperate, frantic search.
The world narrowed to a pinpoint of overwhelming sensation. The tension coiled in the base of my spine, tighter and tighter, an unbearable, exquisite pressure. I felt her begin to climax, the tell-tale convulsions deep inside her milking me, and it was the thing that finally shattered my own restraint. A raw, guttural shout was torn from my throat as the foundations gave way, the world dissolving into blinding, white-hot static, a supernova of release that left me completely undone.
We collapsed together, a heap of sweat-slick limbs and heaving chests. For a long moment, the only sound was our ragged panting, each gasp echoing the other's. The dull complaint of the tile floor registered under my knees, and the cool air began to feel sharp against our wet skin. I stayed inside her, boneless and heavy, unwilling to break the connection, my forehead resting against hers.
Her hand, which had been gripping my back in a tight fist, slowly relaxed, her fingers uncurling to trace a lazy, now meaningless pattern on my skin. The silence stretched, thick and spent.
Then, a soft, breathless laugh escaped her lips. I felt it more than I heard it, a vibration that started in her chest and resonated through mine.
She tilted her head back just enough to meet my eyes, a familiar, victorious glint returning to their depths. "So," she whispered, her voice husky and laced with an infuriating, undeniable smugness. "I believe that's my win."
I barely noticed.
Too caught up in the afterglow.
She pressed a kiss against my jaw. "You're full of surprises."
I gave her a lazy glance. "You haven't even scratched the surface."
She smiled, slowly withdrawing her hand, and began slipping her skirt back on—no rush, just smooth motion. She was still warm against me. Still close. But her eyes flicked to the side, briefly.
I didn't think twice.
My own hand reached for my pants, dragging them toward me without care.
I got dressed in silence, piece by piece putting my Miraculous and the attachment back on. It must slipped off in the heap.
She brushed herself off, turning away for just a moment.
"Luka, hurry up the bells gonna ring."
I got up slowly and we walked out a few minutes later like nothing happened.
But as I stepped back into the quiet hallway and adjusted my shirt, I couldn't help but still wonder why?