The world seemed to stutter.

Rian’s arms shifted, turning him so Kai was held in front of him now—his forearms locked beneath the curve of Kai’s thighs, holding him effortlessly in place. One of Kai’s hands gripped the bare line of his shoulder, the other fisting the sweatshirt that barely clung on.

For a heartbeat, neither moved. The room was filled only with the sound of their breathing, the echo of his name hanging between them.

Then Rian’s mouth curved—slow, infuriating.

“Rian, you fuckin’ asshole,” Kai snapped, smacking him once, then again before he could stop himself.

Rian only laughed, head dropping against Kai’s chest as his shoulders shook. The sound was low, warm in a way that made Kai’s pulse trip.

“Were you scared?” he teased.

The question burned hotter than the wound ever could.

Kai’s glare faltered, heat rushing up his neck. “You’re an idiot,” he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual bite. 

Rian carried him to the bed, setting him down on the edge with a careless strength that made Kai’s breath catch. He stayed close as he dropped to one knee, palms settling on Kai’s thighs. The heat of his hands bled through the fabric of his scrubs.

When Kaiseng looked down, those same hands were steady, anchoring him, while Rian’s gaze lifted—soft brown eyes meeting his with a quiet that didn’t belong in a room like this. Kai didn’t know whether to hit him again or bolt for the door. He’d imagined seeing Rian again—countless times over the years—but not like this. 

It had been five years.

Five years since their eyes had met across the ring before he decided to never look back again.

The crowd had been a living thing that night—loud, sweating, drunk on blood and adrenaline. Rian Vue, they chanted, the name echoing off the concrete walls of the warehouse. The air reeked of booze, metal, and the kind of desperation that came with easy money.

Rian had been at the top of it then. If you could call it a career. The money came fast. So did the drugs, the recognition, the power. But it wasn’t the dream he’d talked about in high school—legitimate fights, sponsors, the bright lights of something clean. This was a world that ended in mugshots, broken bones, or death.

Kaiseng had begged him not to step into the ring that night. His knee had been injured for months, torn and half-healed, and Kai didn’t need his degree in nursing to know what would happen if he kept pushing it. Rian was walking a line that would snap beneath him. Kai couldn’t keep watching him bleed for it.

So he did something. Something wrong. He told himself it was to save him, to get him out, but he’d known even then it wasn’t mercy—it was desperation. And he’d run before he could face what he’d done.

“You sabotaged my fight,” Rian said, his hands tracing the outside of Kai’s thighs. His touch was deceptively gentle. “I owed a lot of money after that. No one would work with me anymore… Well Redline did.”

Kaiseng’s fingers tightened in the bedsheet, his body rigid.

“You left me,” Rian murmured. “You ran and hid. Are you afraid of me, Kaiseng? I thought we were in love.”

The words hit harder than the gun ever had.

“We were,” Kai said quietly.

“Were,” Rian echoed, a laugh catching low in his throat as his hands slid higher along Kai’s thighs. His chest pressed forward, forcing space between them. “Then why did you leave me? You could’ve apologized. I would’ve let you make it right. We could’ve gotten through anything, as long as we had each other… remember? You used to say that.”

His lips grazed Kai’s knee, lingering there before pressing a kiss against the skin. When he lifted his gaze, it came from beneath his lashes—soft, devoted, dangerous.

“Yes…” Kai’s answer trembled somewhere between memory and guilt. He knew Rian’s promises were half-truths at best. The man’s temper always ran deep, his grudges deeper. Even now, Kai didn’t dare lower his guard.

“The police are here,” The nurse said quietly, searching for distance in his voice. “They’ll find you.” His eyes darted to the room. The door was too far. The chair still blocked it. He wouldn’t make it before Rian stopped him. Maybe if he lunged for the call light—but how quickly would Rian kill him before anyone reached the door?

“So you do still care,” Rian whispered, pressing forward again. His lips found the inside of Kai’s thigh, then the firm plane of his abdomen. The warmth of his breath and the closeness of his body made Kai’s pulse race—and, shamefully, his dick began to harden under all the attention. 

“Rian…” It came out as little more than a breath, the name slipping through his lips before he could stop it.

“You can’t tell me this isn’t fate, baby,” Rian murmured, his voice a low rasp as his mouth lowered, teasing over the hard line of his erection—just enough pressure to make Kaiseng’s breath catch.  “You and I being brought back together again. All those feelings… they come rushing back, don’t they? Like it was just yesterday.”

Kaiseng leaned back on his hands, as Rian lowered his pants enough for his cock to be freed, the head slick and flushed in the dim lighting. Rian’s tongue dragged a deliberate line up the underside, slow and adoring, until the shaft twitched against his mouth. His lips trailed lower, down his cock, leaving a trail of kisses on the aching flesh before he pulled his heavy sack into view. His tongue then tracing the seam between with devotion that bordered on worship.

Kaiseng’s pulse thrummed beneath his skin. Rian’s closeness was suffocating, intoxicating. He always had a way of disarming him. The charm, the devotion, the feverish kind of love that could burn through reason. Even now, after everything, Kai felt the gravity of it dragging him in again.

“Wait…” The word left him as little more than a breath. He wanted to pull away. He should have. But his body betrayed him—remembering, reacting, before his mind could catch up.

Kaiseng’s head tipped back, a groan breaking from him as Rian’s mouth closed over one of his balls, hot and wet, his hand working the length of his cock with the kind of familiarity that made Kaiseng’s gut twist.

“I missed you,” Rian whispered when he finally pulled away, his lips glistening. He flicked his thumb over the bead of precum at the tip, pressing into the slit until Kaiseng jerked. Then came the warmth of his mouth again—sudden, consuming—his tongue flattening as he took his cock in deep.

Enthusiastic didn’t even begin to describe him.

Eager. Obsessive. Unrelenting.

Kaiseng’s fingers threaded through the softness of Rian’s hair, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. The slick sounds filled the room, every breath, every gasp blending with the weight curling low in his testicles.

Rian looked up at him, a small smile curving his lips. There was no sanity in it—just that same obsessive affection that had once felt like worship and now looked far too much like possession. “Clearly, you missed me too,” he said, his tongue darting out to taste him again. His eyes lifted. “You can’t ever leave me again, Kaiseng. We were always meant to be. We can fix this. And we will work through this next part.”

And in that moment, Kai couldn’t tell if Rian’s words were a promise—or a threat.

Before Kaiseng could even think to ask what Rian meant, he froze—watching as saliva dripped from Rian’s tongue, glistening as it slid down his cock. Rian’s hand followed the trail, dragging it slow, steady. The other hand wandered lower, down Kaiseng’s thigh, tracing the tense muscle, the smooth curve of his calf, until fingers wrapped around his ankle. The touch was gentle at first, almost reverent. Fingertips brushed the bone, caressed it as if memorizing its fragility.

Rian’s head dipped again, lips parting, breath hot against the swollen tip before his mouth engulfed him once more as both hands caressed his leg. The rhythm deepened—his head bobbing, throat tightening around him. The sound was wet, obscene, and Kaiseng’s breath came in ragged pulls, his thoughts a haze of lust and alarm.

Then the pain came. Sharp, sudden. A bolt of it shot through his ankle. Kaiseng’s breath caught, his lips parting on a sound that wasn’t pleasure. A curse, raw and startled, barely escaped before Rian’s hand shot up, clamping over his mouth.

“Shh…” Rian hushed, eyes dark as he lifted his head, his lips slick with saliva and need. Kaiseng’s cock throbbed, neglected and aching between them, his pulse hammering in his throat.

Rian’s hand tightened just slightly over his mouth—a warning wrapped in affection. “Now you can’t run from me,” he whispered, a small, crooked smile curling his lips.

“You’re a fucking psycho.” Kaiseng hissed, the words scraping from his throat. He shoved at Rian’s shoulders, trying to force space between them. The ache in his ankle surged now that pleasure no longer dulled it. The burn pulsed with every beat of his heart.

“We are not together anymore,” he spat, the words trembling with anger more than conviction.

Rian’s laugh was low, quiet, and terribly soft—like a secret meant only for him. “Because I couldn’t find you,” he said, rising from his knees. The mattress dipped as his palms pressed to either side of Kaiseng’s legs, caging him in. His face hovered close enough that their breaths tangled. “But now I found you.”

The way he said it made Kai’s skin crawl. There was no triumph in it—only relief. A twisted, reverent sort of love that frightened him more than any threat could.

“And I forgive you,” Rian murmured, his voice breaking into something almost tender. “And I know, in time, you’ll forgive me too.”

His lips brushed Kai’s, a fleeting ghost of affection, but Kaiseng didn’t respond. Couldn’t. His thoughts were on the throbbing pain crawling up his leg, on the realization that Rian’s version of love always came laced with fear—either for himself or for Rian.

Rian straightened, stepping back just enough for air to fill the space between them. The unzipped sweatshirt hung open for a moment, framing the sharp lines of his torso before he shrugged it off entirely, letting it drop soundlessly to the hospital floor. The rest followed until only bare skin caught the faint glow of the light.

If there was one thing Kaiseng could never deny, it was that Rian was beautiful. Built like an athlete, lean muscle shifting with every breath. His face was angular, handsome, softened only in the places that mattered. New scars marked his skin now, faded reminders of the years between them, and along his arm, a sleeve of ink twined like smoke—tattoos he hadn’t had five years ago.

And then there was the other thing. The one Kaiseng would never admit aloud. The crazy was attractive too—at least in small, poisonous doses. Maybe it was the same madness that lived inside him, the part that had always answered Rian’s chaos with his own.

So when Rian stepped close again, his hand coming up to cradle Kaiseng’s jaw, he didn’t resist. He breathed him in—sweat, heat, and beneath it all that faint, buried note he could never mistake. Suppressed, muted, but still Rian. Still his.

Rian’s thumb brushed his lip, and when their mouths met, Kai’s tongue found his almost automatically—pulled in by instinct long before thought could catch up.