“Puppy.”

Thanin’s low, velvet voice slid into the quiet like a forbidden melody, echoing through Raven’s office.

Raven’s head snapped up, his pen falling from his hand. He froze—heart pounding—as the familiar voice registered. That voice shouldn’t be here. Not in his office. Not in daylight.

“You… What are you doing here? No—how exactly did you enter my office?” he demanded, his composure cracking as he stood.

Thanin smirked, stepping further inside like he owned the room. “Through the door, of course.”

The audacity in his tone made Raven’s breath stutter. Thanin looked the same as ever—perfectly dressed, every movement a deliberate temptation. His tie was slightly loose, his sleeves rolled just enough to expose strong forearms. That smirk… that same devastating smirk.

“How can I help you?” Raven asked, his voice colder than intended. He was trying to regain control of the moment—of himself.

Thanin raised a brow. “That’s not very nice, puppy. You’re acting cold.” His tone dropped an octave. “And it isn’t seductive at all.”

Raven exhaled sharply. “Thanin, you were supposed to be in Country H. You shouldn’t even be here.”

“Oh?” Thanin’s lips curved, amusement flickering across his eyes. “You seem nervous. Almost like you’re hiding something. Are you hiding something, puppy?” He closed the space between them, each step slow, predatory. “Or… someone?”

Raven’s throat went dry as Thanin’s gloved fingers brushed the side of his jaw. His scent—sharp, intoxicating—filled the air, twisting Raven’s restraint into knots.

“How did we get here?” Raven murmured under his breath, too quiet for anyone but Thanin to hear.

“You’re such a cute puppy,” Thanin murmured, his smile darkening as he loosened his tie.

That single movement snapped Raven back. “Your tie—Thanin, what are you doing?”

Thanin tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Your hands.”

“What—no! You… we can’t do this here.” Raven’s protest came out breathless, unsteady.

“We can,” Thanin replied simply, leaning close enough for his whisper to graze Raven’s ear. “No one has entered. And no one will. Now, your hands.”

The authority in his tone was impossible to resist. Even when Raven wanted to. Especially when he wanted to.

Raven hesitated for a fraction of a second before slowly extending his hands forward. He hated the thrill that surged through his chest—the fear, the anticipation. It was too familiar. Too dangerous.

“Good boy,” Thanin whispered, his voice a reward and a curse at once. He planted a soft kiss against Raven’s forehead—a fleeting, unexpected tenderness before the storm.

Then, from his pocket, Thanin pulled a small black blindfold.

Raven froze. “You’re punishing me?” His voice wavered.

“Of course, puppy,” Thanin murmured with that same disarming calm. “You’ve been stubborn. Asking too many questions.” His hand tilted Raven’s chin upward. “Now lift your head, baby.”

Raven obeyed without thought.

The blindfold slipped over his eyes, darkness swallowing everything. His breath came uneven, fast. The familiar scent of leather and cologne coiled around him like invisible chains.

He could hear Thanin moving—quiet, deliberate movements around him. The sound of his breathing. The faint click of the office door locking. The world had narrowed to sound and sensation.

“Now, puppy,” Thanin’s voice came again, lower, huskier. “You know the rules. If it becomes too much, you use the safe word. Understood?”

“Uh-huh,” Raven breathed, his voice barely audible.

Thanin didn’t need a whip this time. His restraint, his control—it was its own kind of dominance. He knew exactly how to tease, how to press Raven’s boundaries without crossing them. The air between them turned heavy, molten. Every sigh, every inhale, every whisper seemed to vibrate in the space.

Outside, the glass walls of the CEO’s office reflected only shadow and light, concealing the heat within.

From the hallway, if anyone had paused, they would have heard faint breathing—ragged, sharp—and maybe mistaken it for exhaustion or frustration. None would guess the truth behind those locked doors.

Raven’s pulse roared in his ears. He could feel Thanin’s presence—close, too close—circling him, teasing him with every breath and whisper.

“Breathe,” Thanin murmured again, his hand brushing Raven’s wrist. “You’re trembling.”

“I… can’t…” Raven whispered.

“Yes, you can,” Thanin’s tone softened, uncharacteristically so. “Breathe for me.”

Raven inhaled shakily, exhaled slower. It was maddening—the control Thanin held, the gentleness hidden beneath the power. Raven didn’t know if he was being broken or protected.

Minutes—or maybe moments—passed. Then, in a trembling voice, Raven whispered, “Yellow.”

Thanin paused. Silence filled the room like a held breath.

Then came the sound of a tie slipping loose. The blindfold lifted. And in the next heartbeat, their lips collided—urgent, desperate, a silent confession of everything they refused to say aloud.

The kiss was rough, messy, full of unspoken tension. Their breathing mingled, ragged and uneven. The office air turned thick, electric, and dangerous.

They drowned in each other, lost in something neither could define nor deny. Somewhere between control and surrender, desire and trust, they found equilibrium.

For a fleeting second, the world ceased to exist outside that locked door.

---

When the air finally settled, Raven lay sprawled on the couch, hair disheveled, chest rising and falling in exhausted rhythm. Thanin sat beside him, calm again, straightening his shirt cuffs like nothing had happened.

“By the way, puppy,” Thanin said casually, glancing sideways. “Your co-partner… they’re from Country P, right?”

Raven stiffened instantly, every nerve on alert. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Thanin replied smoothly. “It’s a small world, after all.”

Raven forced a light laugh, masking his tension. “Yes, my co-partner’s from Country P. She’s quite popular, actually. Brilliant mind. People adore her.”

“She, huh?” Thanin echoed, an amused hum beneath his tone. “I see.”

He stood, smoothing his jacket and fixing his tie. “Alright, I’ll take my leave.”

“So soon?” Raven asked before he could stop himself.

Thanin’s smirk returned. “Of course. But you’ll come around soon, won’t you?”

“…Okay,” Raven said softly, unsure whether it was a promise or a warning.

Thanin bent slightly, brushing a kiss against his cheek—an intimate gesture that lingered just long enough to make Raven’s heart skip. Then he turned, leaving the office as quietly as he’d entered.

Raven sat there long after the door closed, the faint imprint of Thanin’s lips still burning on his skin.

---

Outside the building

Thanin’s car door shut with a soft thud. The tinted windows framed his reflection—sharp, cold, unreadable. His phone buzzed, breaking the silence.

“Dante,” he said flatly.

> Dante: Hey, bro.

Thanin: Any info?

Dante: Oh, plenty. Your puppy’s co-partner—it’s Ice. Yeah, that Ice. I was shocked, honestly.

Thanin: Ice. She always did have a way of pulling strings, didn’t she?

Dante: (laughs) Don’t sound like that, man. You make it sound like she’s trouble.

Thanin: She is trouble. Always has been.

Dante: Hahaha! Oh, come on, bro. It’s actually pretty fun if you think about it.

Thanin: When are you returning?

Dante: Not anytime soon. Business here’s too good to leave.

Thanin: You jerk.

Dante: (chuckles) Enjoy, bro.

The call ended, leaving silence in its wake.

Thanin leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly. His reflection stared back at him—half amused, half haunted.

“Ice,” he murmured, the name curling on his tongue like smoke. “So… the game begins.”

He started the car, the engine’s low hum blending with the sound of rain beginning to fall.

Outside, the city glowed in silver and red—mirrors of the world they both inhabited.

And somewhere, within that neon storm, two dangerous hearts were already tangled far too deep to ever come clean.