The night air was cool, brushing against Sara's skin as the city lights glittered far below like scattered diamonds. Kairo had driven her up to a secluded rooftop, far from the screaming crowds, far from the noise that usually clung to his name. For once, there were no girls draped over him, no cocky smirk for an audience. Just him. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar, hair messy from the ride, green eyes fixed on her as though she were the only thing that mattered.
Sara folded her arms, raising a brow. "So this is your idea of a date? No clubs, no half-naked girls? No fucking some random chick in front of your date? Did the famous Kairo finally run out of holes to fill?"
He chuckled, but it wasn't the arrogant sound she was used to. It was low, quiet, almost shy. "Don't ruin it, soda glass. I wanted… something different tonight."
She frowned, curiosity flickering in her eyes. He stepped closer, his usual swagger dimmed, replaced by a heaviness she wasn't used to seeing. Leaning against the railing, he lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke into the dark sky. His gaze stayed fixed on the glowing city below, as if it were easier than looking at her.
"You ever wonder why I fuck around so much?" His voice was softer now, nearly lost to the wind.
Sara tilted her head, smirking faintly. "Because you're a dog in heat?"
His laugh came sharp, but not proud. It cracked, raw at the edges. "Maybe. Or…"
She cut in smoothly, her words sharper than his own thoughts. "Or maybe you just didn't want to feel empty. Every girl, every night it's just noise, isn't it? Noise to drown out the silence. Because when it gets quiet, you realize how fucked up you really are."
Kairo stilled. His smirk faltered, the mask slipping. He hadn't expected her to cut him open so easily, hadn't expected anyone to see through what he'd buried beneath his fuckboy armor.
"Fuck," he muttered, his voice unsteady. "What are you?"
Sara's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I love you, fuckboy. At least I should know this much about the man I love."
That hit him like a punch. His eyes finally left the city and found her, shimmering green under the dim rooftop glow. His voice came low, raw, almost afraid.
"I never had someone who wanted me for me. They wanted my body, my face, my money, my name. But not me. And then you… fuck, you show up, and suddenly I can't breathe unless I see you. Do you have any idea what you've done to me, soda glass?"
Sara's chest tightened, but she smirked anyway, refusing to let the weight show. She stepped closer, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "So the great fuckboy has a heart after all, one that actually craves love. Should I be honored?"
His laugh was soft this time, disbelieving. But his eyes, hungry, not for flesh but for her, betrayed everything.
She lifted her hand, brushing her fingers along his jaw, feeling the rough stubble there. "You know what's funny? You've had so many women, Kairo. But you've never really been touched. Not the way that counts."
His breath caught, his composure crumbling. His voice broke into a whisper. "Then touch me like that. Just once."
Her smirk faded into something gentler, tender. She leaned in, her lips brushing his, not hungry, not demanding, but soft, deliberate. A kiss that wasn't about lust, but a promise.
He froze, stunned, before melting into it. His hands rose not to grip her body, but to cradle her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks with a reverence he didn't know he had in him. The kiss deepened slowly, stretching time, each second an eternity. His lips trembled, his body trembling with him, as though terrified she would vanish if he let go.
When she finally pulled back, their foreheads stayed pressed together, his breath ragged against hers. "Damn… I've kissed a hundred girls, but this… this feels like my first."
Sara's smile was soft now, unguarded. She traced his lips with her thumb. "That's because it's the first one that matters."
He closed his eyes, pulling her tighter into his chest, his voice breaking with something he'd never admitted before. "Don't push me away, Sara. Don't leave me craving something I can't get anywhere else."
Her smirk returned, but her eyes softened, her guard slipping. "Relax, Kairo. I'm not going anywhere. But don't think you can win me over just by spilling your tragic little secrets."
He laughed softly, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. "Then I'll just keep trying until you give in."
And for the first time, she let him hold her. Not as a joke, not as a fight, not as a game. Just him, arms wrapped around her, her head resting lightly against his chest.
The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was thick, heavy with something Kairo wasn't used to: peace. Her head resting against his chest, her perfume mingling with the faint smoke of his cigarette, the city sprawled beneath them as if it didn't exist at all.
He swallowed hard, his hand absently tracing circles on her back. Why does this feel so fucking good? For once, he wasn't calculating what came next, no lines, no moves, no half-thought plans to get her into sheets. Just her. Just this.
Sara broke the quiet first, her voice muffled against his shirt. "You know, Kairo, I almost thought of not showing up tonight."
He stiffened. "What?"
She leaned back slightly, smirking up at him. "Well, let's be honest. You've got a reputation. Women cry over you, beg for you, fight over you, and you?"
She continues, "And you? You walk away before the sheets even get cold. What was I supposed to expect? That you'd suddenly turn into Romeo on a rooftop tonight?"
His lips quirked, but there was no cocky comeback. Instead, he ran a hand through his messy hair, a little restless. "I didn't want you to say yes just 'cause of me. I wanted you to say yes… for me."
Her brows lifted. "Isn't that the same thing?"
"No." His gaze found hers, raw and steady, pulling her closer. "They want Kairo, the name, the image, the thrill. and the cock. But you… You look at me like I'm just a fucked-up guy with too much noise in his head. And for some reason, you don't run."
Sara tilted her head, studying him, that soft smirk tugging at her lips again. "Maybe I like the fucked up guy."
"Bullshit." He almost smiled, but the weight in his tone gave him away. "You like fixing broken things."
For a moment, her teasing faded. She reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering longer than necessary. "And what if I do? Maybe you're the first broken thing that actually looks back at me instead of pretending it's whole."
His chest tightened painfully. No one had ever dared to say that to him, not without malice, not without trying to cut him open. But with her, it felt like… truth.
He exhaled shakily, leaning in closer, his forehead brushing hers again. "Fuck, Sara. You scare the hell out of me."
She smirked, her lips barely grazing his. "Good. Then maybe I'm doing something right."
He let out a low laugh, but it broke into something rougher, something real. His hand slipped to the back of her neck, holding her like she was fragile and dangerous all at once. He kissed her again, slow, lingering, but needier this time. Not lust, not desperation. but a plea.
When they pulled apart, she whispered against his lips, "Careful, Kairo. Keep kissing me like that, and I might have to take care of your fucking arousal."
His grin was small, almost boyish, but his eyes gave him away, shimmering, uncertain, and undone. "And what if you have to?"
She leaned back, arching a brow, playful again.
He took her hands, slowly keeping them on his arousal, a hard bulge between his legs. "It's already hard for you."
"Fuck yourself, I'm not handling it this time," she tried to pull back from him.
but he pulled her back, hitting her back to his chest. He trapped her in his arms, inhaling her scent. "Then let me taste you a little more," he whispered in her ear.
Shiver ran through her spine, his fucking voice, his scent, his wet kisses on her neck; she was malfunctioning under his grip.
His hands slowly slip down inside her skirt, caressing her thigh,
"Kairo"