Forgetting his experience with Thanin was impossible. The memory didn't fade with sleep or distance — it lived under his skin. He could still feel the breath at his neck, the heat of a body that didn't ask permission. It was worth every second… only if he'd been pushed harder. Hurt deeper.
You should have been a bit harder. Hurt me a little, he thought, the words brushing his lips in a whisper meant for no one.
He never told Ice. He wasn't ready for her questions. Or her silence.
The room around him blurred, and his mind slid back to the moment the private suite door clicked shut.
The hallway noise faded behind it.
The space was dim — shadows pooled in the corners, lit only by the amber glow of a single wall lamp. Leather seating lined one side of the room, dark and soft, the kind of place made for secrets and bruises.
Thanin didn't speak at first.
He closed the door without turning, one hand still on the handle, shoulders relaxed like he owned the air. Raven didn't move. He didn't need to be told to stay — some commands didn't come in words.
Thanin looked back at him slowly, not like a man sizing up company…but like a predator deciding where to bite.
Raven held his gaze, chin tilted just enough to pretend he wasn't affected. But his pulse exposed him — beating where his collar opened, dragging his breath slightly out of rhythm.
Thanin stepped forward once.
Raven didn't step back.
Another step.
Heat gathered between them like static. The scent of whiskey and smoke lingered on Thanin's breath when he finally spoke.
"You followed," he said — observation, not praise.
"You didn't give me much of an option," Raven returned, voice steady.
"You had one. You chose this."
Thanin didn't touch him right away. He circled — not in full, just enough to close in from the side, close enough that his arm brushed Raven's. The contact was deliberate. Testing.
Raven didn't flinch.
Thanin's hand rose, fingers brushing the open line of Raven's collarbone. Not gentle — not rough either. A claiming touch. Fingers pressed lightly at the base of his throat, not constricting, but heavy enough to feel the threat in the restraint that didn't land.
Raven's breath left him quietly, the sound too low to call a moan, but not silent enough to deny.
Thanin heard it.
He leaned in, mouth near Raven's ear. The warmth of his breath dragged shivers down Raven's spine.
"Do you always let strangers lead you into locked rooms?" Thanin murmured.
Raven's lips parted, a slow exhale catching on something raw. "Only the dangerous ones."
Thanin's thumb slid along the side of his throat. Raven's back met the wall behind him — he hadn't noticed being moved, only the finality of being pinned with no hands actually holding him there.
Thanin's other hand braced beside his head, arm caging him in.
Raven made a sound — quiet, strained, hungry.
Thanin's eyes lowered, catching the tension in his jaw, the invitation beneath the defiance. He leaned closer, chest barely touching Raven's, his voice softer now but edged.
"If I hurt you," he said, "you wouldn't walk away."
The words should've been a warning.
Raven swallowed, pulse stuttering under Thanin's fingers. "Try me."
Thanin didn't. Not fully.
Not yet.
He tilted Raven's chin up with two fingers, studying him like he was choosing where to leave the first mark. His mouth brushed just below Raven's ear — not a kiss, not a bite — the ghost of both without the satisfaction.
Raven's breath hitched, a low sound escaping — not loud, but real. He wanted Thanin's hand at his throat, and wanted the pressure to leave prints. He wanted to feel owned, ruined, tested.
Thanin seemed to read it.
But instead of breaking him, he stopped at the line — pressed his body close enough for Raven to feel the restrained strength, then pulled back a breath away.
Raven's fingers curled against the wall. "Coward," he breathed before he could catch it.
Thanin's eyes darkened — amused or provoked, Raven couldn't tell.
"You don't know what you're asking for."
Raven almost said hurt me and find out.
Almost.
Thanin's hand finally left his throat, trailing away like heat withdrawing from a burn. The loss throbbed more than the touch.
The night didn't go further — not the way Raven wanted. And maybe that was what made it worse. The denial. The control.
Days later, he could still feel where Thanin hadn't marked him.
And he still hadn't told Ice.
Not because he couldn't.
Because saying it aloud might make him admit he wanted it again.
And harder.