Haru checked the alarm app on his phone for the third time that evening, the green "all clear" icon doing little to ease the knot in his stomach. It was a rainy Thursday night, the kind where the patter on the windows sounded like whispers. Ichigo was tucked in bed, clutching his dino, out cold after a day of preschool crafts and park puddles. The apartment felt safe—locks bolted, cameras rolling—but the threats lingered like smoke.
Chris was in the kitchen, rinsing dinner plates, his slim frame tense under the casual tee and sweats. He'd been quieter all week, jumping at every text buzz or car horn outside. The collectors' last call had upped the ante—demanding another "fee" by week's end, with veiled hints at "visiting" the preschool if ignored. Police patrols increased, lawyer pushing for charges, but the waiting game wore them down.
Haru set his phone aside, crossing to wrap arms around Chris from behind. "You okay? You've been staring at that plate like it owes you money."
Chris leaned back into him, but his laugh was forced. "Just spaced. Every noise outside... my brain goes worst-case. What if they show up tonight? Or tomorrow at pickup?"
Haru turned him around, hands on shoulders. "They won't get close. Cameras, alarms, police on speed dial. And I'm handling preschool drop tomorrow—extra eyes."
Chris's hazel gaze searched his, vulnerability raw. "I know. But the tension's killing me. Feels like a storm brewing, and we're just waiting for lightning."
Haru pulled him closer, protective hold tight. "We'll weather it. Together."
The air thickened—fear fueling need for closeness. Chris tilted up first, lips brushing soft, then desperate. Haru kissed back fierce, hands sliding to waist, pulling flush. Tongues met urgent, breaths quickening ragged, that needy pull drawing them deeper.
They stumbled to the bedroom, door shut firm, lips barely parting. Shirts peeled off impatient—Chris's tee yanked over his head, exposing smooth chest; Haru's button-up tossed aside, revealing the slight athletic tone beneath. Skin met hot, electric—Chris's slim frame pressing against Haru's taller build, bodies aligning like puzzle pieces.
Haru backed Chris to the bed, laying him down gentle, hovering close. Mouth trailed neck—kissing slow paths, nipping collarbone soft to draw breathy gasps. Chris arched up, fingers tangling in Haru's black hair, tugging light to guide lower. Haru's palms roamed chest, thumbs circling sensitive spots that made Chris shiver hard, hips bucking instinctive.
Pants undone with shaky fingers, pushed down and kicked away. Bare now, sweat starting to sheen in the low lamp light. They moved together—bodies flush, Haru's hand wrapping firm around them both, stroking slow and deliberate in time with every roll and slide. Chris's legs wrapped tighter, pulling Haru deeper into the rhythm, friction sparking like fire through every nerve.
The pace built urgent but controlled—Haru's free hand pinning Chris's wrist lightly above his head, angle deepening the grind. Pleasure coiled tight as a spring, intense and overwhelming. Whispers filled the space: Chris's breathy "Need this," Haru's husky "I've got you, always." Eyes locked—hazel wide with raw emotion, brown burning with protective fire.
Climax hit like a storm breaking—Chris tensing first, body bowing beautiful against Haru, release spilling hot with a muffled cry buried in Haru's neck. The clench and sight pulled Haru over the edge seconds later, hips stuttering as pleasure surged deep, shuddering through him in powerful waves.
They stayed locked together through the aftershocks, breaths ragged and syncing, foreheads resting against each other. Chris's cheeks flushed deep pink, a shaky smile breaking through. "You make the shadows feel... farther."
Haru kissed his damp temple, arms still tight. "We'll push them back for good."
They cleaned up gentle—shower together, hands soft and reassuring under the warm water, more tender kisses exchanged to wash away the day's grime and worry. Dressed in comfy sweats, they curled back on the couch with tea instead of wine this time, talk turning to plans.
Haru pulled out his laptop. "Let's review the lawyer's email again. She said if they contact tomorrow, record it—build the harassment case stronger."
Chris nodded, leaning into his side. "And the preschool? I called the director—extra sign-in checks, no unknown pickups."
Haru squeezed his hand. "Good. And Aiko offered to take Ichigo this weekend if needed—extra eyes there too."
Chris's tension eased a fraction, but the wine sat untouched. "I hate this waiting game. Feels like they're toying with us—heightening the pressure till we crack."
Haru set the laptop aside, turning to face him fully. "They want that. But we're not cracking. Police are watching, lawyer's pushing for an injunction. One wrong move from them, and they're done."
Chris managed a weak smile. "You're my rock, you know that?"
Haru pulled him into another hug, chin on his head. "And you're mine. We'll get through."
The night dragged on fitful—Chris tossing, Haru half-awake listening for alarms. Morning came gray and rainy, matching the mood. Breakfast was quick: oatmeal for Ichigo, who sensed the vibe and clung extra, demanding "Chris carry me to car!"
Preschool drop was tense—Haru scanned every parked car, every face near the gate. The director met them personally, assuring extra staff on watch. Ichigo waved bye-bye happy, oblivious.
At work, Haru fielded calls—lawyer update: "Gathering affidavits from similar victims. Could link to organized racket." Police: "No activity overnight. Stay vigilant."
Chris texted from class: Quiet so far. Miss you.
Haru: Miss you more. Home soon.
Afternoon blurred—Haru picked up Ichigo early, no incidents. Home, Chris waiting with snacks. Playtime helped distract: blocks tumbling, Chris making silly voices for dinos.
But as evening fell, the phone rang—unknown. Chris answered on speaker, Haru close.
Kenji's voice, smug. "Iesuke. Clock ticking. Seven grand by midnight tomorrow, or we stop asking nice. That playground your kid likes? Slippery when wet."
Click.
Haru's blood boiled. "That's it. Police now."
They called—officer dispatched, took statements, logged call. "This qualifies as stalking threat. We'll trace the number, increase patrols."
Dinner was subdued—Ichigo chattering, adults forcing smiles. Bath time splashes lifted spirits a bit, bedtime stories cozy. Ichigo out, Haru and Chris collapsed on couch.
"They're heightening it—personal spots like the playground," Chris whispered, voice shaky. "Feels like they're watching us."
Haru held him tight. "Let them try. Alarms set, police looped. Aiko's on alert too—she'll take Ichigo tomorrow if needed."
Chris nodded, burying face in Haru's neck. "I love you. For staying calm when I'm freaking."
Haru kissed his hair. "Love you more. We're stronger than this crap."
The tension lingered like a storm cloud, whispers turning to roars. But in the quiet, their resolve hardened—ready for whatever came next.