Ryunn Estate — Midnight
The moonlight stretched across the floor like spilled silk.
Machines beeped softly beside Rio's bed, steady, mechanical—monitoring a boy who had danced too close to death. His chest rose and fell shallowly, skin pale, body bandaged and bare from the waist up beneath the thin sheets. His torso glistened faintly with sweat, the aftermath of his reckless Grace—an agonizing ascension that had nearly cost him his heart.
Then—
a click.
The door.
It opened slowly.
And closed without a sound.
Ana stepped inside.
She wore nothing but a nearly sheer nightgown, black and loose. The fabric clung to the curves of her hips, breasts, and thighs with every quiet breath she took. Her bare feet touched the floor without sound as she moved across the room, each step measured, intimate.
Her eyes didn't leave him. She drank in the sight of him—the curve of his jaw, the way his lashes flickered in unconscious tension. The sweat that clung to his sculpted torso. The sheet that barely reached his waist.
"You always push too far," she whispered. "Always chasing death like it's a lover."
Her voice trembled. Not from fear.
But from something deeper. Hotter.
She reached the bedside, paused.
Her hand brushed through his hair gently, then down to his jawline. Her fingers traced the hollow of his throat, down the bandage across his chest. Her breath caught.
"Even now… you look like you were built to be worshipped."
She crawled onto the bed.
No hesitation.
No shame.
Her knees slid on either side of his waist as she straddled him slowly, her body pressing down against the slight rise beneath the sheets. Her thighs framed his, her hips brushing his own as she lowered herself until she was just above him—barely hovering. Her nightgown rode high, revealing the smooth swell of her hips, her inner thighs pressed warmly against his sides.
Ana placed her palms on his chest, fingers trembling as they glided over his bandages.
"You burn yourself alive to feel powerful… but I would have given you everything," she breathed, leaning in.
Her lips hovered over his.
Then brushed—just a breath—over his bottom lip.
Her hips shifted subtly against his.
Just enough to feel the heat of him.
He stirred beneath her. A twitch. A faint groan from his lips.
Still unconscious, but feeling.
And she knew it.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across her lips.
Her nightgown slipped off one shoulder. Then the other.
She was now bare above him.
Her skin glowed faintly in the moonlight, her chest rising and falling with trembling breaths as her nipples brushed the warm skin of his abdomen.
Ana leaned down, her breasts pressing softly against his chest, her lips finding the curve of his neck.
"You don't get it, do you?" she whispered against his skin. "I don't want your title. I don't want your family's approval. I want you."
She kissed his neck.
Then his collarbone.
Lower.
Her hand slipped beneath the sheet.
Her fingers curled slowly around his hip, teasing along the edge of the waistband of his briefs. She paused.
Smiling to herself.
Just a little touch more.
Just enough to make him ache.
"You don't even realize what you're doing to me, Rio," she murmured, her voice husky. "But that's alright. You'll wake up soon. And when you do…"
Her lips brushed his ear.
"…you'll be mine."
---
Downstairs – 3:17 AM
Slix froze.
Her sensors had caught the heat signatures. The hormonal spike. The increasing tension. She processed it all in milliseconds.
> "Second humanoid detected in Master Rio's bed. Activity: escalating. Patterns suggest seduction. Breach of maid protocol level: EXTREME."
Slix tilted her head.
Paused the surveillance.
And walked away.
Her eyes burned blue.
---
Morning — 6:01 AM
Rio's eyes opened.
Slowly.
His body ached. Heat pulsed in his side, but something else throbbed beneath the blankets. A dull pressure. A warmth that didn't come from machines.
Then—
He saw her.
Ana.
Curled beside him.
Naked from the waist up. Her leg was draped over his. One arm rested possessively across his chest. Her thigh had somehow ended up between his legs.
And she was awake.
Watching him.
Smiling.
"Good morning… master."
He blinked. "Ana—what the hell—?"
She shushed him with a finger to his lips.
"You were burning. I cooled you down."
Her fingers danced across his abdomen, teasing the edge of his waistband. She pressed her hips into his just enough for him to feel the heat between her thighs.
He froze.
"Ana," he whispered, voice cracking, "what are you—"
Her lips brushed his.
Finally.
Just a kiss.
But one full of obsession. Claiming. Fire.
"You can have her on stage," she murmured, "but I'll have you in bed."