Adrian sat in the glow of the laptop, his eyes fixed on the screen as he rolled the footage back and froze it. Yu, caught mid-motion, leaning over Callen to brush crumbs from the loveseat, his long hair falling forward, his sweater slipping just enough to reveal the pale line of his collarbone.
Adrian exhaled slowly through his nose. His hand moved with precision across the trackpad again, scrolling back further. He retraced the day. Yu bustling in the kitchen. Yu setting plates with the care of someone who couldn't stop being attentive. Yu cleaning with extensively care, rushing around like he couldn't sit down for a moment.
And then—Adrian froze.
There it was.
The moment Callen and Yu took their spots in the living room, Callen—on his couch as usual—and Yu seating himself on the loveseat. The awkward lesson of French words being exchanged shifted into something heavier, hungrier, until Yu's body, even clothed in baggy comfort, bent to Callen's advances as he leaned into a kiss. Adrian's eyes tracked every detail—the tilt of Yu's head, the way his hazel eyes flickered red for a breath, the tremor of his fingers against the loveseat as Callen pushed him down.
Against his better judgment, Adrian's pulse quickened. His hand twitched as he clicked through each camera angle—side angle:
Yu's spine bowed, shirt rucked up to his armpits, ribs flaring with every ragged breath.
—Overhead:
Thighs splayed wide, the shadowed cleft between them glistening, slick with sweat and want.
—Diagonal, the cruelest:
Callen's thick cock buried hilt-deep inside him, pumping, while Yu's cock jerked untouched, leaking a thin silver thread onto his own stomach.
He compiled them, one after another, until the screen became a mosaic of Yu's body arching, writhing, responding.
Every sound the cameras picked up, faint but there—Yu's muffled gasps, a shaky moan, the desperate roll of his hips—Adrian replayed, looping them, his skin prickled and his throat went desert-dry.
He kept dragging the progress bar back, again, again, until the wet sounds filled the room:
The slick push of dick into yielding heat, Yu's broken little sobs muffled against the heel of his own hand, the obscene creak of the loveseat as his hips chased more.
He couldn't breathe right. Couldn't think. The laptop glowed like an altar, and Yu was the offering. He told himself to stop. To close the laptop. To delete the footage.
But his fingers betrayed him.
He clicked through the feeds with the devotion of a man lighting votive candles. The hunger gnawed, the same gnawing he had felt tightening every evening he returned to Yu's quiet domestic welcome. It coiled tighter now, dragging him under.
Adrian's pulse hammered in his throat, he knew he shouldn't. He knew. Yet his six inch cock was already hardening, straining against the seam of his trousers like it remembered Yu's body better than his own conscience did.
Adrian shoved back from the desk so hard the chair rolled and slammed the wall. Belt buckle clattered open; zipper rasped down. His cock sprang free, flushed dark and already dripping at the tip, aching like it had been hard since the moment he'd installed those cameras. He spat into his palm once, rough, impatient, and wrapped his fist around himself.
On screen, Yu's back arched higher, throat bared, lips parted around a silent cry as Callen plunged his cock just right. Adrian matched the rhythm, brutal, punishing strokes. Callen's hand should have been his, that dick should have been his, stretching Yu open, making him shake and beg.
"Fuck… Yu…"
The name tore out of him, raw and possessive, echoing in the dark room. The sound of his own voice startled him, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. Heat built mercilessly, drawn by every echo of Yu's soft gasps caught on the feed.
He looped the ten-second clip where Yu came untouched:
Cock pulsing, stripes of white splattering his chest, stomach clenching, hole fluttering greedily around Callen's thick groin. Adrian watched it five times, six, thumb swiping over his own slit on every upstroke, spreading the wet mess down his shaft until his grip slid filthy and perfect.
The heat coiled viciously low in his gut. He braced one hand on the desk, knuckles white, hips jerking into his fist. The other hand flew faster, wrist cramping, breath sawing in and out like he'd run miles.
"Look at you…"
He growled at the footage of Yu, spent and trembling, thighs still spread like an invitation.
"Letting him touch you like that. Letting him inside you. Should've been me fucking you open, Yu. Should've been my cock you were crying for!"
The orgasm punched through him without mercy. He bit down on his own forearm to muffle the groan as he came in thick, pulsing ropes across his fist, over his fingers, dripping onto the hardwood between his shoes. Vision whited out for a second, pleasure so sharp it felt like punishment.
Adrian shuddered, spilling into tissues he yanked from the box at his desk, his head stayed bowed over the desk, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his messy hand. On the screen Yu was paused mid-afterglow—lips swollen, eyes glassy, chest streaked with his own release—looking thoroughly and perfectly used.
The release gave no relief. The hunger remained, a coil low in his gut, whispering for more.
He clenched the soiled tissues in his fist and muttered to himself, voice cracked, barely audible, thick with something darker than lust.
"He shouldn't have been allowed to make you come like that. That was mine. You were supposed to be mine."
Adrian leaned back in his chair, chest still rising and falling, his knuckles pale against the desk where the laptop hummed softly. The screen remained on a paused frame of Yu on the loveseat—lips parted, hair mussed, skin faintly glowing with a sheen of sweat.
'I could use this.'
The thought came swift, sharp, almost natural. Blackmail. A way to bind Yu to him, to strip away any wiggle room and force what his body already begged for. He could lock Yu down, make sure no one else could touch him—neither Callen, nor Theo, nor anyone else.
'But then… what?'
Adrian's jaw tightened. Would Yu look at him with affection? Or with fear? Would he ever believe the warmth Yu offered him at the door, the way he loosened his tie, the soft "welcome home" he gave, if it came on the back of threats?
No. That path led to rot. And Adrian wanted Yu, but not like that.
He could delete it. Pretend he never saw it. Pretend the sound of Yu's soft gasp wasn't etched into his bones.
But how could he?
His thumb dragged across the trackpad, hovering over the delete option. His throat bobbed, dry, as his eyes lingered on the frozen frame. No—he couldn't delete it. Not yet. This was Yu, stripped bare in a way Adrian had never seen. Vulnerable. Stunning. His.
Even if he didn't know it yet.
With cold precision, Adrian inserted a flash drive, saving the footage into a secure file before wiping all traces from the laptop itself. He slipped the small device into the hidden compartment of his desk, locking it shut. For now, it would be his secret. His proof. His reminder.
Only when he had the real thing—Yu beneath him, willingly—would he consider destroying it.
Adrian stood, his movements deliberate, methodical, as he stripped off his suit. Shirt, trousers, socks—each piece folded neatly despite the storm still twisting in his gut.
In the bathroom, the fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow, catching on the intricate swirls of ink that wrapped his body. Dragons coiled across his back, snarling beasts marked his shoulders, black waves surged down his arms, stopping at his wrists. Yakuza art. Permanent. Brutal. Beautiful.
He stared at his reflection, tattoos gleaming under the sterile light. His eyes narrowed, jaw set. Adrian muttered low to himself.
"I hope you don't mind tattoos, Yu…"
He reached forward, turned the shower dial. Water thundered to life, hot steam curling against the mirror until his reflection blurred into nothing.
But even behind the fog, all he could see was Yu.
The steam from Adrian's shower curled thick against the bathroom mirror, blurring his own reflection into a shifting silhouette of tattoos and shadow. He braced his palms against the porcelain tiles once he stepped inside, water roaring behind him, and let the heat wash over his knotted thoughts. The image of Yu lingered—etched not only on his hidden flash drive but branded into his mind.
Meanwhile, across the hallway, Yu lay curled under his covers in his bed, the room quiet except for the faint hum of his phone screen. His lashes were still damp from the tears he'd shed earlier, the ache of memory locks leaving him raw, hollow. But instead of crumbling into the emptiness, he forced himself toward distraction. His new Instagram page lit up with likes and comments, strangers admiring his sketches. Little hearts blinked at him from the screen.
Yu's lips tugged into a small smile. Normal. Mundane. That was what he needed. Not Theo's bruising grip, not Callen's smoldering teasing, not Adrian's unreadable stares. Just this—scrolling, tapping, laughing softly at a silly sticker Joy had tagged him in. He clung to it until sleep finally claimed him.
---
A dull thud jolted Callen awake, pain flaring through his shoulder as he rolled off the narrow loveseat and crashed to the floor.
"Shit…"
He groaned, pushing himself upright. His body ached, every muscle tight and sluggish, like he'd run a marathon without stretching. His hips especially screamed in protest, the memory of Yu straddling him—tight, warm, utterly consuming—flashing hot enough to make him flinch.
Yesterday had been pure bliss, hours blurred into sweat and skin. He'd had women, men, all sorts—but nothing like Yu. Nothing close.
But today… today he felt wrecked. Drained. His limbs were heavy, his breath shallow, his stamina shot to hell. Callen barely managed to drag a hand down his face, grimacing.
'If I feel like this, then how the hell is Yu gonna even move today?'
Then he heard it—soft humming, a tune that floated from the kitchen. The clink of plates, the rhythm of footsteps.
Callen staggered forward, every step protesting until he reached the doorway. And there he froze.
Yu moved gracefully around the kitchen, hair tied back loosely, apron strings snug against his waist. His face glowed with color, eyes bright, shoulders loose. Not only was he fine—he looked… energized. Stronger.
Callen's jaw slackened. Betrayal, sharp and ridiculous, stabbed at him. He looked like death warmed over, while Yu looked better than ever—like last night had only made him bloom.
Something inside Callen snapped. He clenched his fists, glaring at his own reflection in the shiny fridge door.
"What the fuck."
He muttered under his breath.
The more Callen stared at Yu gliding around the kitchen—bright-eyed, humming, glowing like a goddamn angel—the more something ugly and competitive rose in his chest.
'Why does he look so good?'
Callen flexed his sore shoulders, wincing.
'Why does he look better than me after a night like that?'
It stung. He, Callen Wright, who prided himself on charm, endurance, stamina—left crawling off a loveseat like a rookie. Meanwhile, Yu looked like he'd just had the best sleep of his life.
"No way."
He muttered under his breath, teeth grit.
"There's no way in hell I can't keep up!"
His pride snarled. He refused to be outshined.
"...Fine, if that's the case then I'll just push harder. I'll build stamina until I can go with him for days and he'll still beg me for more."
His vow burned in his chest, but what he didn't know—what he couldn't know—was that he'd been competing not with another man, but with the Incubus King himself.
"Next time, I'll make him scream until he can't even stand. I'll last longer, push harder, keep going until he forgets every other man's name."
He could already see it—Yu beneath him, hair splayed, lips swollen, voice hoarse from crying out. Callen's jaw clenched. He swore he'd train until his stamina could match Yu's bottomless allure. This wasn't just desire anymore. It was rivalry. Challenge. War.
---
The sound of sluggish footsteps drew Yu's gaze over his shoulder. Callen stumbled in, hair mussed, posture slouched, face pale. He looked like a man who'd gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer—and lost.
Yu's smile softened. I really did take too much, he admitted inwardly, guilt stirring.
"Callen…"
Yu said gently, sliding a plate onto the counter.
"Go lie down. You look like you'll collapse standing there. I'll bring your breakfast to bed."
Callen froze, pride bristling—but the wobble in his knees betrayed him. He opened his mouth to argue, but what came out was only a weak, embarrassed word.
"...Fine."
He pouted like a scolded child, shuffling toward his room, shoulders hunched, muttering under his breath. The image made Yu chuckle despite himself.
Turning back to the counter, Yu set down his and Adrian's plates neatly on the table, then pulled out the bed tray, plating Callen's food with practiced ease. His hands moved on autopilot, tidy, efficient—motherly. He sighed, half amused, half guilty, as he balanced the tray.
[Host, Callen seems to be becoming far too enamored by you. His affection levels spiked sharply after half a day's worth of intercourse. He is beginning to show signs of obsession. Be cautious, Yu.]
'First Theo, now Callen… if I'm not careful, they'll all end up too obsessed.'
---
The bed creaked under Callen's weight as he flopped onto it, dramatic as always, though his sluggish limbs betrayed how drained he really was. Yu followed with the tray, balancing it with care until he set it on Callen's lap.
"There."
Yu said softly, straightening the cutlery, smoothing the napkin like a nurse tucking in a patient.
"Wow, breakfast in bed. You're spoiling me! Careful, Yu. Keep this up and I'll get used to it."
Callen puffed his chest weakly, trying to wear his grin like armor.
Yu rolled his hazel eyes, brushing Callen's messy fringe aside without thinking.
"You already are. Now, eat slowly. And don't make me regret spoiling you this time"
The moment lingered—Callen's green eyes softening, his lips parting like he wanted to say something heavier—but before he could, the faintest shuffle in the hall froze Yu's hand midair.
Adrian had meant only to pass by on his way to the kitchen. But he stopped dead at the sight framed in the open doorway:
Yu leaning over Callen, fussing with the tray, brushing hair from his face like some tender wife.
Something tightened in Adrian's chest. Possessiveness, sharp and sudden. He clenched his briefcase in his hand, nails digging into the leather.
Yu glanced up, following Callen's gaze, and saw Adrian standing there. His heart lurched.
Quickly, Yu withdrew his hand, straightening his spine.
"Ah—Callen isn't feeling well. That's all. So I thought breakfast in bed would help."
His voice was calm, casual, but the awkward stiffness in his posture betrayed the strain. Without waiting for Adrian's reply, Yu turned, smoothing invisible wrinkles from his baggy shirt as he stepped past him into the hall.
"I'll be at the table."
Yu said, almost too briskly, before disappearing toward the kitchen.
Behind him, Adrian lingered a moment longer at the threshold, eyes flicking between the bed tray on Callen's lap and the hallway Yu had just vanished down.
And Callen? He only leaned back smugly against his pillows, chewing a bite of food like a man who'd just won the first battle of a war neither side had declared yet.
---
The table was set neatly, steam rising from the plates Yu had laid out. He took his seat, humming softly to himself as he picked at his food. Across from him, Adrian ate with his usual composure—but today it was different.
The silence was thick, not uncomfortable to Yu, but charged in the way Adrian's gaze seemed to linger just a second too long whenever Yu's hand brushed the table or his lips touched the rim of his cup.
Yu, blissfully unbothered, found the rhythm soothing. The scrape of fork against plate, the warmth of food in his belly—it was mundanity at its finest. He smiled faintly, content.
But Adrian simmered, quiet jealousy threading beneath every bite.
As the last dishes were cleared, Adrian rose, his coat already draped over one arm, his briefcase in the other. Yu moved naturally to his side—habit, instinct, muscle memory.
He smoothed the lapels of Adrian's suit, tugged his tie straight with deft fingers.
"There. Better."
From the counter, he grabbed the lunchbox he'd packed earlier and pressed it into Adrian's hand.
"Don't forget this."
Adrian didn't move away. Instead, he bent down, close—closer than he ever had before.
A whisper against Yu's cheek, soft lips brushing skin.
"I'll be back."
The words ghosted in Yu's ear, and then Adrian was gone, pulling open the door and stepping out into the crisp morning air.
His face burned crimson the second the door clicked shut. He exhaled hard, raking a hand through his hair as if he could scrub the heat away. But his lips tingled with the memory of Yu's skin, and the whisper he'd dared to let slip felt like a claim.
He clutched his briefcase tighter and walked toward the bus station, pulse still racing.
---
Back inside, Yu blinked. Once. Twice. Slowly, he raised a hand to his cheek where Adrian's lips had brushed.
"What… was that?"
He murmured aloud, baffled.
DK01 flickered faintly at the edge of his thoughts as though to speak out, but in the end it didn't intrude.
Yu shook his head, cheeks warm, muttering to himself as he gathered the dishes.
"What is with my roommates…?"
---
Yu set the last dish on the drying rack, wiping his damp hands on a towel. His mind still circled Adrian's sudden boldness at the door, looping it in with Callen's brazen flirtations, and Theo's relentless persistence.
"Seriously, what is with these men?"
He muttered, shaking his head.
He turned toward the living room to tidy stray items, when the sound hit him—
[DING!]
The sterile chime of DK01, flat and unyielding in his mind.
[Confirmation: Conception successful. Congratulations, Host.]
Yu froze mid-step, the rag in his hand dangling. The words seemed to echo through him, louder than the chime itself.
'Pregnant?'
'Again?'
His stomach twisted sharply—half elation, half dread. His hand instinctively went to his still-flat belly. Was that warmth he felt… or fear?
He dropped the rag, heart thundering.
"No… I need to be sure."
Minutes blurred together until he was outside, jacket zipped and breath puffing in the air as he rushed down the street. The drugstore bell chimed as he shoved through the door.
He didn't meet the clerk's eyes. He didn't say a word. He grabbed the first large pack of pregnancy tests he saw and slapped them onto the counter, tossing bills down with trembling hands before hurrying out again.
The front door banged softly shut as he stumbled inside, clutching the bag like contraband. He didn't dare glance at the loveseat where Callen had spent the night or at the neat stack of Adrian's law books on the table.
Straight to his room. Door shut. Lock clicked.
He tore the pack open with shaking fingers, fumbling test sticks into his hands. His breath quickened as he made for the bathroom, flicked on the light.
One test. Then two. Then all five of them.
The counter filled with lined-up sticks like pale soldiers standing at attention, waiting to seal his fate.
Yu gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white.
"Gods, please…"
The seconds stretched like hours.
Yu sat perched on the closed toilet lid, his elbows braced on his knees, his face buried in his palms. The bathroom was too quiet except for the faint hum of the vent.
The little windows on the pregnancy tests hadn't finished yet, but faint shadows were beginning to ghost into view.
[This is unnecessary. I've already confirmed your conception.]
Yu groaned into his hands.
"Shut up, DK… I need to see it for myself. Seeing makes it real. I can't…"
His voice broke, softer.
"…I can't just take your word for it."
[Host…your lack of trust is inefficient.]
He rolled his eyes, glaring toward the blank wall.
"Efficient? You want efficient? Try being the one whose whole life just got flipped upside down. Again."
The tests ticked forward, their small digital sandclocks blinking until the first one clicked into finality.
Yu stood abruptly, pacing two steps before forcing himself back to the counter. His hands shook as he reached out, hovering over the first stick.
Two lines. Clear as day.
He swallowed, throat dry, moving down the line—
Second test. Two lines.
Third. Two lines.
By the fifth, his knees buckled and he braced against the sink, staring at the chorus of pink confirmation. No doubt. No misread. All of them the same.
His chest tightened as a wild mix of emotions flooded him. Joy, sharp and immediate. His hands brushed down over his belly, protective already, warmth curling at the thought of new life.
But dread followed just as swiftly. He squeezed his eyes shut.
'Not now. Not when the father and I aren't even together. Not when I'm finally getting the chance to finish college.'
Images crashed through him—Theo's desperate eyes, Callen's hungry grin, Adrian's shadowed gaze. He bit down on his lip.
"Gods, the timing couldn't be worse."
He stared at the tests again, the finality of them. Yet his mouth tugged faintly upward, bittersweet.
"Guess it's a good thing I was preparing for this, huh?"
Yu let out a shaky laugh that was more sob than humor, dragging a hand down his face.
The bathroom was still filled with the soft hum of the vent, the line of tests laying there like a row of judges.
[Host, you have confirmed the reality of your situation, correct? Pregnancy acknowledged?]
"Yeah…"
Yu whispered, sinking back onto the toilet lid, his hands over his stomach.
"Pregnant. Again."
Yu stared at the counter where five sticks of truth lined up like damning evidence. His chest rose and fell too fast.
"Fuck. This… this is so fucked…"
He whispered, shaking his head. He wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream. Instead he just sagged forward, collapsing into his own lap for a moment, shoulders hunched like he could curl himself small enough to disappear.
A sharp knock broke the fragile silence.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Yu!"
Callen's voice rang through the door, sing-song and careless as ever.
"Where'd you vanish to? You're missing lunch, babe. Or—"
His tone dipped lower, mischievous.
"—is this you hiding 'cause you're saving your energy for another French lesson?"
Yu's blood ran cold. His eyes darted to the tests on the counter.
Panic seized him. He jerked upright too fast, hand grasping frantically and knocking the row of tests. They clattered to the floor, scattering like fallen dominoes.
"Shit—shit!"
He hissed under his breath.
Heart pounding, he dropped to his knees, grabbing handfuls of the plastic sticks. No time to check if he'd missed one. He shoved the whole messy handful into the depths of his laundry bin, half-buried under crumpled shirts. Not neat, not secure, but hidden—barely.
"Yu?"
Callen called again, rattling the doorknob with playful insistence.
"C'monnn, don't make me drag you out. I'll do it! I'll kick this door down if I have to."
Yu froze, wiping his damp palms down his pants before rushing out of the bathroom.
He caught the doorknob just as it started to twist. He yanked it inward, opening the door himself before Callen's grin could widen.
"H-hey!"
Yu said, breathless, blocking the gap with his small frame.
"I was just—uh—washing up. Don't you people believe in privacy?"
Callen leaned lazily against the frame, arms crossed, green eyes glinting with mischief.
"Privacy, huh? Is that what they call it now? You hiding from me?"
He tipped his head, mock-pouting.
"That hurts, Yu. And here I thought our last little… session was magnifique."
Yu's face burned crimson, his mind screaming at the laundry bin behind him.
"Shut up, Callen. Go lay back down before you collapse dead at my door."
But Callen's grin only grew wider, sensing the panic, sensing something to pry at.