Riven rose to his knees on the bed, slowly, theatrically tugging at the hem of his shirt. He locked eyes with Soren and, in an exaggeratedly slow motion, began peeling it up—inch by inch, revealing smooth, pale skin underneath. His tone dropped into a faux sultry whisper. "You sure you can handle the view without touching?"
Soren didn’t react outwardly, but Riven saw the faint flare of his nostrils, the minuscule twitch in his jaw. Victory.
The shirt ca off completely. Riven tossed it aside and held his arms out. "Ta-da~.
Soren’s eyes swept over him with deliberate slowness. He didn’t move an inch.
And that made Riven itch.
"...You really are punishing ," Riven muttered.
"Now, off with the trousers." Soren had his arms crossed, and a smile played on his lips. He was forcing Riven to put on a show, wasn’t he?
Riven pouted but complied, he was not insane, he was not going to disobey Soren.
He slowly pulled and tugged until it was off, his legs were on full display and Riven for the first ti felt a bit shaful. He was here... Naked and pretty, yet Soren did not budge. Has his appeal gone down?! That can’t be!
"Now, reach in for the drawer, and you will find the ring. And you know what to do with it."
Soren was enjoying this. Of course, he would. Why wouldn’t he? He wasn’t the one suffering. He stood there composed, elegant, and infuriatingly calm while Riven sulked like a scolded cat.
Riven grunted but didn’t move. He stayed on the bed, sitting upright with his shirt still off, his back facing Soren. His tail, dark and sleek, flicked in annoyance. It moved back and forth, agitated, sending out a soft ringing sound every few seconds.
The chi of it was delicate, almost musical, and it filled the otherwise quiet room.
Soren narrowed his eyes.
He tilted his head slightly, listening. The sound repeated. Soft, high-pitched, and oddly out of place.
"What’s that sound?" he asked, voice deceptively casual.
Riven blinked. "What sound?"
Soren raised an eyebrow.
Riven sighed. "Oh, that. It’s my tail. There’s a bracelet around it that rings when I flick it. Ronan thought it would be funny to put it on—"
His voice cut off abruptly, realising too late what he’d just said.
Soren’s face shifted. Just slightly. Just enough.
He moved forward.
"Wait—!" Riven barely got the word out before Soren flipped him around with swift, fluid strength. It wasn’t rough, but it was decisive. Suddenly, Riven was on his knees, facing away from him, his tail caught gently but firmly in Soren’s hand.
Soren’s black eyes examined it.
There, nestled just above the base of Riven’s tail, was a delicate bracelet. Thin, elegant gold with tiny bells that shimred and jingled with every twitch. The craftsmanship was unmistakably refined.
Riven tried to twist away. "It’s not what you think."
Soren was silent.
"Seriously," Riven added, trying to sound convincing. "It’s my mother’s. The bracelet. It belonged to her."
Soren didn’t say anything.
"So stop getting jealous," Riven said, exasperated.
Soren sighed. It was deep, not entirely resigned, and definitely not pleased. Still holding Riven’s tail, he tugged gently and pulled him closer.
Riven gasped softly as his back t Soren’s chest. The contrast between their bodies was stark—Riven’s bare skin t the firm, clothed warmth of Soren’s body. He could feel every part of it. The cold, ornantal tal accents on Soren’s formal coat pressed lightly against his back, their edges smooth but unmistakably present.
He shivered.
Soren’s arm looped around his waist, anchoring him in place, while the other hand held the base of his tail.
There was nothing explicitly aggressive about the action, and yet Riven’s heart skipped a beat.
He could hear Soren’s breath, steady and composed against his ear.
"It rings when you move," Soren murmured.
"That’s usually what bells do," Riven muttered back.
Soren didn’t answer.
Instead, he shifted his hand up slightly, letting his thumb ghost over the little gold bracelet before letting go of the tail entirely. Riven tensed, waiting for a comnt, maybe a mocking remark, but nothing ca. Soren remained still behind him.
"It’s annoying," Soren finally said, flatly.
Riven turned his head slightly. "So take it off."
Soren didn’t move.
"No?"
Soren leaned in a little closer, so close that Riven could feel the faint brush of his lips near his ear. "You said it’s your mother’s."
Riven nodded. "It is."
"Then I won’t break it."
Soren let go of his waist next, allowing Riven to slowly shift forward again. But he didn’t step away. He stayed behind him, close, like a shadow.
The silence stretched between them. Neither of them spoke.
Riven exhaled and tilted his head back just a little. "So... still not going to touch ?"
Soren’s lips curled into a faint smirk. "Not yet."
Riven groaned.
"This is unfair. I co back all excited to see you, and this is what I get?"
Soren didn’t reply. His eyes were still on the bracelet.
"You’re sulking."
"No, I am thinking about ways to make you squirm."
Riven grinned. "Does it bother you that much?"
"You’re enjoying this far too much for soone being punished."
"What can I say? I like your attention. Even when you’re being scary."
Soren finally pulled back just a little. He walked to the side and then around, sitting on the bed in front of Riven. He didn’t reach out. He didn’t touch.
He simply looked.
Riven squird.
"Co here," Soren ordered, his voice low and quiet but leaving no room for disobedience.
Riven moved without thinking, pulled by sothing beyond habit—gravity, desire, the invisible thread that always connected them. He scorched closer across the sheets, until his bare knees brushed against Soren’s clothed legs.
Their proximity made his breath hitch. Soren’s black eyes fixed on him, that unreadable, intense gaze making Riven feel both devoured and weightless.
Then Soren tilted his head slightly. "Now kiss ."
Riven blinked. "I thought... you weren’t going to touch ."
"I’m not," Soren replied smoothly. "I never said you couldn’t touch ."
Riven’s eyes narrowed. "You’re very cunning."
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