Micah and Clyde arrived at a well-known chain hotel, the kind that was instantly recognisable for its polished lobby and quiet, controlled luxury. The moment they stepped inside the room, their tense bodies loosened visibly. The emotional rollercoaster they had just endured back at the apartment had turned into a heavy exhaustion that had settled deep into their bones. It was as though everything hit them at once.

Without a second thought, Micah let himself fall forward onto the bed, his body sinking into the mattress as a long, unrestrained groan escaped his lips. He did not bother to move for a while, simply lying there as if even the smallest motion required more energy than he could spare. Slowly, his gaze drifted to his right hand, settling on the ring. The moment his eyes focused on it, a soft smile began to form, gentle at first, and then unmistakably warm.

This had always been one of his long-held wishes, to share something as simple and meaningful as matching rings with Clyde. It was a small symbol, perhaps insignificant to others, but to him it carried a depth of meaning that could not be easily put into words. If circumstances had been different, if everything that had gone wrong had never happened, he would have worn it openly and proudly much earlier. The thought lingered, bittersweet, yet it did not overshadow the happiness that now fluttered through him.

A light, almost ticklish sensation spread through his chest and stomach, like butterflies stirring restlessly, filling him with an unexpected sense of delight. These small, ordinary moments, things that most people would take for granted, had once been denied to them, stripped away as though they had never been theirs to begin with. Yet now, standing at this fragile point in time, it felt as though those stolen experiences were slowly being returned.

They should go out together, he thought, letting the idea unfold freely in his mind. They should walk side by side without fear or restraint, their hands intertwined as they moved through a lively crowd. They should wander through bustling streets, sampling simple street food, laughing over nothing in particular. They should explore night markets illuminated by warm, flickering lights, and stand shoulder to shoulder beneath a sky bursting with fireworks. The images came one after another, vivid and intoxicating, pulling him deeper into his own quiet world of daydreams.

So absorbed was he in these thoughts that he completely forgot about the man standing only a few steps away.

Clyde watched him in silence, his gaze steady as it followed Micah’s movements on the bed. The young man rolled slightly onto his side, still smiling to himself, clearly lost in something far removed from the present moment. There was something almost endearing about it, yet at the same time, Clyde could not ignore the faint, unfamiliar sensation of being... overlooked.

He let out a quiet breath before beginning to remove his sweat-dampened suit, his movements slow and deliberate. One piece at a time, the layers came off until he was left standing in nothing more than his undershirt and underwear, the earlier tension still faintly visible in the set of his shoulders.

Then, without any warning whatsoever, he stepped forward and reached down, scooping Micah up as though he weighed nothing at all.

The sudden movement shattered Micah’s thoughts instantly.

Caught completely off guard, he let out a startled yelp, his limbs flailing awkwardly in the air as he struggled to regain his balance. "Whoa! What the hell was that for?"

Clyde did not respond immediately. Instead, he shifted Micah onto his shoulder with an ease that only made the situation more ridiculous, carrying him as if he were nothing more than a sack of potatoes. Then he headed straight toward the bathroom.

"We’re taking a bath. Together," he stated calmly, as though this had been an obvious decision all along.

Before Micah could properly react, Clyde had already begun turning on the water, the steady sound of it filling the room as steam slowly began to rise. At the same time, he reached for Micah’s clothes, starting to undress him with a casual familiarity that suggested this was not up for debate.

Micah rolled his eyes, though there was no real resistance in his actions. "You could’ve just said it," he muttered, his tone laced with mild irritation. "What was the need for all that manhandling?"

Despite his complaints, he made no effort to stop Clyde. In fact, he cooperated without hesitation, lifting his arms slightly to make it easier for his shirt to be removed. There was something almost indulgent in the way he behaved, like a pampered young master who had grown accustomed to being taken care of and saw nothing unusual about it.

One by one, the remaining layers were discarded until he was left completely bare, his earlier dignity and self-consciousness long since abandoned when it came to Clyde. There was no hesitation, no embarrassment, only an ease that came from familiarity and trust built over time.

Clyde lifted him once more and gently lowered him into the bathtub, the warm water enveloping his body almost instantly. A quiet sigh escaped Micah as the heat seeped into his muscles, easing the lingering tension that had not yet fully left him.

A moment later, Clyde joined him, settling behind him in the tub. He drew Micah back against his chest, one arm wrapping securely around him in a firm, grounding embrace. The position was natural, almost instinctive, as though it had always been meant to be this way.

Micah allowed his eyes to close, his body gradually relaxing as he leaned back into the warmth, both from the water and from the man behind him. For a brief moment, everything felt still and peaceful.

However, that calm did not last for long.

Restlessness crept in almost immediately, and Micah began to move, unable to remain still for more than a few seconds. His hands wandered idly, brushing against Clyde’s torso, tracing over the firm lines of muscle as though guided by curiosity rather than intention.

Clyde let out a soft, restrained sigh before reaching down and catching those wandering hands in his own. He held them firmly, preventing any further exploration, and tilted his head slightly to look at Micah’s face.

"Behave," he said evenly, though there was a subtle warning beneath his calm tone. "You’re playing with something you may not be able to handle."

Instead of backing down, Micah’s lips curved into a playful grin.

With a sudden shift, he turned around within the limited space of the tub, moving to straddle Clyde without hesitation. The movement was bold, deliberate, and entirely lacking in restraint.

"And what if I am?" he challenged lightly.

He leaned in closer, his arms slipping around Clyde’s neck as he closed the distance between them, pressing a kiss against his lips. It was not rushed or forceful, but neither was it hesitant, it carried a quiet confidence, a deliberate intent.

Clyde did not immediately deepen the kiss. Instead, he allowed it to linger, his gaze remaining steady as he took in the sight before him. Micah’s silver hair had fallen forward, soft strands framing his face and casting faint shadows over those striking hazel eyes.

When Micah finally pulled back, there was a flicker of dissatisfaction in his expression.

"What’s with that lukewarm reaction?" he complained, his tone edged with impatience. "Where’s the heat? Where’s the excitement? Spice? Hmm?"

A low chuckle escaped Clyde, the sound deep and unhurried.

"So eager," he remarked, one brow lifting slightly. "Offering yourself like a lamb ready to be slaughtered."

Micah frowned at the hint of amusement in his expression, clearly displeased by the implication. Leaning forward slightly, he closed the distance again, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

"And what’s wrong with that?" he shot back. "You should be worrying about whether you can keep up. Or being used as a stud. I’ve always followed what I want, without hesitation."

His voice softened just slightly at the end, though the determination in it remained unchanged. "And right now... You’re exactly what I want."