The door to Akihiko Usami’s luxurious Tokyo apartment slammed shut with a force that could’ve woken the dead, sending a precarious stack of stuffed bears teetering near the entrance. Misaki Takahashi stormed in, his university bag slung haphazardly over his shoulder, his face a storm cloud of irritation. The cluttered space—overflowing with books, scattered manuscripts, and an absurd collection of plush toys—seemed to mock his already fraying nerves.
“Damn that infuriating, smug, aloof bastard,” Misaki muttered under his breath, kicking off his shoes with unnecessary aggression. “Thinks he’s some literary god just because he scribbles smut for a living. Ugh, Akihiko Usami, you’re the worst!”
From the depths of the apartment, sprawled across a velvet couch like a decadent emperor, Akihiko lounged in nothing but a loosely tied silk robe. The deep indigo fabric slipped off one shoulder, revealing a glimpse of pale, toned skin. He held a glass of red wine with an elegant laziness, swirling it as a smirk played on his lips. The dramatic entrance hadn’t fazed him in the slightest; if anything, it seemed to amuse him.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my little storm cloud,” Akihiko drawled, his voice smooth as the wine he sipped. “Rough day at university, or did you just miss me that much?”
Misaki’s head whipped around, his green eyes blazing. “Miss you? I’d rather miss a train into a brick wall! I’m just here because I have to be, you perverted old man!” He stomped closer, fists clenched, and pointed an accusing finger. “And don’t even get me started on that trash you call a novel! I accidentally read a page—ONE page—and I’m scarred for life! Who even writes that kind of filth? Do you have no shame?”
Akihiko’s chuckle was low, almost predatory, as he set his wine glass down on the coffee table with a deliberate clink. “Oh, Misaki, you’re positively adorable when you’re flustered. Tell me, did that ‘filth’ get your heart racing? Were you imagining yourself in one of those steamy little scenes?” His violet eyes gleamed with mischief as he leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand. “Be honest now. I won’t judge.”
Misaki’s face turned a violent shade of red, steam practically pouring from his ears. “W-What?! Are you insane? I didn’t enjoy a single word of that garbage! It was disgusting! Repulsive! I—I’m going to burn every copy I find!” In his flailing outrage, he swung an arm too wide, knocking over a towering stack of books with a loud crash. The mess only fueled his embarrassment as he scrambled to regain some semblance of dignity.
Akihiko rose from the couch with the grace of a panther, his robe slipping just a fraction more as he towered over Misaki. At over six feet, his presence was imposing, and the sly grin on his face didn’t help. He stepped closer, closing the distance between them until Misaki could feel the heat radiating off him. “If it was so repulsive, why are you blushing like a virgin on her wedding night?” Akihiko purred, his voice dipping low. “Prove it, then. Show me you weren’t affected. Or are you too scared to admit the truth?”
Misaki stumbled back, his bravado crumbling under that intense gaze. “S-Stop looking at me like that, you creep!” His foot caught on a stuffed bear—a particularly garish one with a bow tie—and he yelped as he lost his balance, tumbling backward onto the couch with an ungraceful thud. Akihiko loomed over him, one hand braced on the armrest, his grin widening into something downright dangerous.
“Careful, little Misaki,” Akihiko murmured, his voice a velvet caress as he leaned in close, his breath warm against Misaki’s cheek. “Keep falling like that, and I might have to pin you down just to keep you safe. Or would you prefer I do it for… other reasons?”
Misaki’s heart slammed against his ribcage, but he forced a scowl, his voice cracking as he snapped, “You’re a creepy, bear-obsessed weirdo, you know that? Get off me before I punch that smug look off your face!” Despite the threat, his body betrayed him, trembling slightly under Akihiko’s shadow.
Akihiko’s laugh was rich and infuriating as he caught Misaki’s wrists with one hand, pinning them above his head against the couch cushions. “Oh, I do love it when you fight back. So fiery. So stubborn. Maybe I should teach you a lesson about respecting your elders, hmm?” His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it, a promise that made Misaki’s stomach flip.
“Respect? For you? Ha! Your seduction tactics are as lame as your stupid bear collection!” Misaki shot back, struggling half-heartedly beneath him. His words were sharp, but his breath hitched, the proximity doing things to his nerves he refused to acknowledge. “Let go, you overgrown pervert!”
Akihiko’s lips curved into a wicked smile as he leaned down further, his mouth brushing against Misaki’s ear. “You’re so cute when you try to act tough,” he whispered, his voice sending an involuntary shiver down Misaki’s spine. “All bark, no bite. I wonder how long it’ll take before you’re begging for more than just my words.”
Misaki squirmed, his face burning hotter than a furnace. “You smug bastard! I’m not begging for anything, especially not from you!” His insult was fierce, but he didn’t push Akihiko away, caught in a maddening tug-of-war between irritation and something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name.
The tension hung thick in the air, electric and suffocating, until an embarrassingly loud growl erupted from Misaki’s stomach, shattering the moment like glass. Akihiko blinked, then burst into unrestrained laughter, releasing Misaki’s wrists as he straightened up. “Oh, my poor grumpy kitten, you’re starving. Shall I feed you before we continue this… delightful little game?”
Misaki scrambled off the couch, mortified, his hands flying to cover his face. “I’m not a pet, you idiot! And stop laughing at me!” His voice was a mix of fury and humiliation as he glared daggers at Akihiko, who was already sauntering toward the kitchen with an infuriatingly casual air.
“Whatever you say, kitten,” Akihiko called over his shoulder, tossing a playful wink that only made Misaki’s blood boil hotter. “Come along now. I can’t have you fainting on me before the fun really starts.”
Grumbling under his breath, Misaki reluctantly followed, his pride in tatters and his mind a chaotic mess. “Worst roommate in history,” he muttered, loud enough for Akihiko to hear. “I don’t know how I got stuck with a narcissistic, wine-drinking, bear-hoarding lunatic.” Yet, as he trailed behind, his eyes couldn’t help but linger on Akihiko’s retreating figure—the way the silk robe clung to his frame, the effortless confidence in his stride. Frustration battled with a flicker of curiosity, a dangerous spark that Misaki wasn’t ready to face. Not yet.
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