The next morning, I stared at the ceiling, every muscle aching as if I'd wrestled a gorilla. My body cracked with soreness, and every inch of skin seemed marked — bite marks, hickeys, reminders of a night that had left me raw, exhausted, and honestly, the best I'd ever had.
Lavrick was on the floor beside me, massaging my legs and arms with an almost reverent focus.
"You're a beast," I muttered, letting out a long, tired sigh.
"I'm sorry," he said earnestly, worry flickering across his face. A rare crack in his usual shameless demeanor. His hands were gentle now, tracing along my calves, giving lingering kisses to the backs of my feet.
The sensation made me shiver, and I kicked him lightly — enough to send him tumbling back onto the floor.
"Ouch! My leg hurts!" he said, laughing through it.
"Stop acting already," I rolled my eyes, though my chest tightened at the sight of him sprawled there, ridiculous and infuriating.
I coughed, suddenly feeling a pang of responsibility. "See, this is what will happen if you stay here any longer."
He looked up at me, eyes curious.
"I'm no good," I said firmly. "The longer you stay here, the sooner you might get, forced into doing this with me again." My voice was serious, almost chilling.
He went silent, staring down at the floor.
For a moment, I thought he might finally be considering my words.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Thinking," he muttered, still eyes locked on his feet.
"Thinking what?" I pressed.
"Ways to break a bone, so I can stay here forever." His hands flexed subtly over his own feet, like he could actually do it. His expression was dead serious, eyes dark, a far cry from the goofy idiot I knew so well.
My mind froze.
"What the hell are you saying? Are you out of your mind?" I asked, voice low, tense. He didn't answer.
The air in the room shifted, thick and dangerous, and for the first time that morning, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.
"I've had enough," I said, voice tight, chest aching. "I'm asking you directly, Lavrick, tell me the truth. What exactly do you want from me? You don't want money, you don't want favors, is it just my body?"
He didn't answer. His gaze stayed locked on mine, unwavering, and the intensity in his eyes made my chest tighten.
"No, wait. Don't you dare," I muttered, panic creeping in. "Lavrick, don't you dare tangle this with hearts or feelings."
He smiled, slow, deliberate, then sat down on the edge of the bed. "You're right, Mayhem. I'm sorry, but the truth is, it's always been tangled with hearts. Ever since the moment I met you, it's been like that."
I shivered, instinctively leaning back. "No, this, stop it, before it gets worse."
"It already is," he replied softly, eyes darkening, unwavering.
I shook my head, frustration and fear mixing. "Lavrick, do you even know how old I am?"
"Thirty-one. About to turn thirty-one in, two months, four weeks, and twelve days," he said without hesitation, memorized down to the exact day, like it mattered more than anything else in the world.
"Lavrick," I breathed, fear tightening my throat. His smile widened, almost feral, his dopamine-fueled excitement radiating like heat. "Yes? I'm listening. My ears are always yours."
I rubbed my forehead, trying to steady my racing thoughts. "Since you know about our agegap, that should make your answer obvious."
His brow furrowed slightly, genuinely puzzled. "It's only six years, why does it matter?"
"It matters to me," I said, voice sharp. "I'm not someone to do love. I don't—"
"I know," he interrupted, voice calm but deadly serious. "And I'm not asking you to love me back. I don't need that. It's already my absolute luck, my miracle, that I'm here, under the same roof as you, after a night I'll never forget. That alone is more than I ever dreamed of. I'm grateful for it all. I cherish it, more than you could ever know. It's enough. More than enough. You've given me this much of yourself, and that's everything to me. I can exist here, beside you, quietly, endlessly, loving you without demanding anything in return. Because all I want, is to breathe the same air, to exist near you."
Silence hung heavy in the room, charged with something I couldn't define. His eyes, his voice, every little thing about him — the sincerity in his words, the way he looked at me — sent chills crawling over my skin.
Emotions I didn't want to acknowledge clawed at me, and the thought of admitting them scared me. But his gaze, it was impossible to deny. He wasn't letting go. And for the first time, I felt the full weight of the truth: this wasn't just desire. This was obsession. Heart. Soul. Everything.
"Also, if you ever do fall in love with me," he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips,
"I'll be happier than I already am."
Before I could respond, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to my lips, then my shoulder, the warmth and weight of him grounding and igniting me all at once.
I just sat there, frozen, my mind a storm. Everything swirling — the night, the heat, the words, the reality of it all. Was this really happening?
"Anyway," he said, shifting slightly, his voice softening with that impossible mix of playfulness and devotion, "do you want me to help you get a bath? Or, fine, I'll go make a delicious breakfast while you take your time."
He noticed my narrowed glare and adjusted, still smiling, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead before heading off, practically dancing toward the kitchen.
I remained seated, staring at the empty space he'd left, my mind spinning. My life, was it really taking this turn? And more importantly, did I even want it to?
Later that day, my anger had calmed a bit — mostly because he had cooked remarkably well. The food had a way of soothing my mind, though I refused to show it. Buttoning up my crisp white shirt, I said firmly,
"Stay upstairs. Don't come down."
Since I couldn't make it to the office, I had arranged for my client and assistant to come here for the work talk.
Lavrick nodded obediently, eyes tracking me in the reflection of the glass. His gaze lingered on the exposed line of my collarbone as I finished buttoning up, and I let out a short, tired sigh. Like a good boy, he went upstairs.
I immersed myself in the meeting, discussing details with my client and assistant, but I could tell — even without looking — that Lavrick was peeking from above, giggling like a fool.
The moment the guests left, he came rushing down. "You're so cool when you talk business," he said breathlessly.
"Tell me something I don't know," I muttered, making him chuckle. He flopped onto the couch beside me, hands already wandering over my shirt, fingers tracing the hard planes of my chest. His lips brushed against my collarbone as he whispered,
"You're so hot, I want to do it all over again. Can I?"
"No, you idiot," I replied, my lips betraying a faint, reluctant smile as I pushed him away. He sank back on the couch, pretending to sulk, yet the way he watched me made it clear he wasn't upset at all.
"What?" I asked, adjusting my shirt, trying to regain my composure.
In a heartbeat, he stood again, closing the small distance between us. His large hand cradled my chin, thumb brushing softly over my lips, like he was memorizing every curve.
"Your smile's so beautiful," he murmured, eyes locked on mine. "I know all the hard work, the weight you've carried alone, has made it fade, but I promise to do my best to bring it back — and keep it all to myself."
He smiled, shy but sincere, like a kid caught in a moment of pure honesty.
I rolled my eyes, trying to mask the flutter in my chest. "Wow, so cliché. You really are such a big loser."
But even as the words left my mouth, the warmth in my chest betrayed me.
He only smiled, leaning in to hug me, pulling me close. His arms were tight yet warm, and I felt myself slowly melting, heart and mind betraying every attempt at composure. I couldn't hide it — not from him, and not even from myself anymore.
It was a new day at the office. I nodded slightly at greetings as I walked through the lobby, my mind already running through the endless list of tasks ahead. Behind me, Lavrick trailed, eyes wide and bright like a puppy utterly mesmerized by, me. He had no business in the office, claimed he just wanted to see my space, so I had casually led him here.
Now, he sprawled himself on the couch in my office, gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city below like a kid seeing the skyline for the first time. Then, without a word, he settled into his usual routine: staring at me as though I were a living masterpiece.
I rolled my eyes. "Don't just stare. Do something. There are plenty of books here — read one."
He hesitated, then obediently picked up a book, though his eyes kept darting to me every few seconds.
Time passed in that uneasy rhythm until Marcus arrived with my schedule, informing me of an upcoming meeting. I nodded absently, still focused, and allowed him to adjust my collar and tie with quiet efficiency.
"Have everyone arrived?" I asked, preparing to leave.
"Yes, boss. Everything's ready," Marcus replied. I turned to Lavrick. "I'll be gone for a while — just wait here. I'll be back soon..." I froze. Lavrick's hands were gripping the book so tightly it was bending at the spine. His eyes, were red, streaming tears like a waterfall. His lips trembled, and his whole frame shook as though the world had just fallen apart.
I blinked. Marcus froze too, utterly confused, though he didn't dare say a word. I, however, kept my composure — a mask of cold detachment — even as my heart clenched. Marcus quietly excused himself,
As soon as he left, I rushed to Lavrick. "What the hell happened?!" I demanded, kneeling to meet his eyes. He sobbed harder, reaching out to pull me down beside him on the couch. "Don't, sit there," he muttered between hiccups, insisting I sit on couch instead of kneeling on the floor.
Even while crying, he couldn't let me be below — it was like his pride itself had been wounded. I sighed, a small, reluctant smile tugging at my lips. "What happened? Why are you crying? Was the book sad?" I asked, genuinely puzzled — I didn't even remember having any sad books here.
"No, you," he sniffled, voice quivering.
"That guy, he touched your neck, your tie, You could've asked me to help! I'm good at tying ties, you know!" I blinked in disbelief, then let out a dry chuckle. Of course. Of course this idiot was the type to cry over me being touched.
"You're really on a mission to break all levels of being a loser," I muttered, gently wiping the tears from his cheeks.
"Fine, then you do it!" I added and opened my tie and handed it to him. He squealed in delight, only to shock me moments later by tossing it straight into the dustbin. "You shouldn't have that — it's been touched by someone else already. You look good without a tie anyway. I'll buy you a new one," he said, beaming innocently, like this was the most logical thing in the world. I let out a soft chuckle. God, this guy was impossible. Too much energy, too much devotion, too much idiot.
"Fine. Wait here, then," I said, patting his hair gently. He giggled, waggling his invisible tail as if he'd just won the lottery.
When the meeting finally ended, I returned to find Lavrick still stationed exactly where I'd left him, tail wagging like some overexcited puppy. The moment I stepped in, he practically leapt onto me, wrapping his arms tight around my neck.
"You're back! I missed you," he whispered, pressing his face into my neck.
"I was gone for two hours," I said, smirking, patting his back.
He didn't answer. Instead, he kissed me — hard, deep, and consuming, pinning me against the door.
Our lips tangled, tongues dueling in that maddening, hungry way that always left me breathless.
"Okay, okay, let go," I murmured, trying to catch my breath, though I didn't fight when he nibbled my earlobe before moving down to my neck, biting, sucking, leaving marks. The thrill of doing something this sinful in my office — with everyone working outside — sent shivers down my spine.
My pulse jumped further when I felt his cold fingers undo one button of my shirt, sliding in to brush against my bare skin.
"We're not at home," I muttered, face burning, heart hammering, gently holding his hand to stop him.
"I know I won't go long. Promise," he said, his goofy smile clashing with the dark, hungry fire in his eyes. And then he kissed me again, rough and claiming, as if he wanted to swallow my breath, my mouth, my very soul. My body weakened under him, and honestly, I didn't want him to stop.
Time slipped by in that reckless, intoxicating haze. Despite myself, my heart sank further into the hole named Lavrick, and he reveled in it just as much.
Afterward, he began his job yet settled into the apartment like it was his own — cooking, cleaning, sleeping by my side, even handling chores as if he were the most devoted husband imaginable. And to my quiet surprise, I didn't dislike it. Not one bit.
One day, Lavrick came bounding in from work like a hyperactive puppy, practically vibrating with excitement. He rushed toward me, clutching something in his hands.
"Look! Look what I got you!" he exclaimed, eyes sparkling like a child on Christmas morning. I raised an eyebrow but allowed a small smile. "What is it?"
He proudly held up a black tie with golden stripes. "For you! Do you like it?"
"It looks good. Thanks," I said, softening a bit — it had been a long time since anyone had gifted me anything.
"I'll tie it for you when you go to work tomorrow," he said, voice brimming with pride.
I nodded, patting his head gently. His grin widened like he'd just won the lottery, and then, out of nowhere, he shoved a crisp $12 bill into my hand.
"What's this for?" I asked, genuinely confused. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Just paying you back. Keep it, please."
"Keep it for, what?" I asked, still puzzled.
"You don't need to know," he said firmly, with that ridiculous serious expression that always made me roll my eyes. "It's my first time giving you something, so keep the tie and the money."
I frowned slightly, trying to process his logic, but simply nodded. He just smiled, that knowing, slightly mysterious smile of his, like he had some secret I couldn't remember—or maybe wasn't supposed to.
"You're always strange," I muttered, shaking my head with a quiet chuckle.
"If that makes you smile, then I'll be the strangest kind ever," he said, before lunging at me for a hungry kiss. I couldn't help but smile and kiss him back, because, well, I couldn't resist.
Life continued like that — Lavrick living in his own chaotic, obsessive, affectionate orbit around me. He took care of me like I was a child, fussing over little things, making sure I ate, slept, and sometimes just stared at me like I was the sun. But he cried. A lot.
I didn't answer his question once while I was busy talking with a female client — he cried for an hour, pouting that I preferred talking to ladies over him.
I didn't kiss him back within three seconds one evening — he cried for two hour. I stood even a tiny bit too close to another man once during a meeting — he cried for three hours, whimpering that I was "too close to someone else."
And yet, despite all of this, his devotion, his ridiculousness, his obsessive, lovesick energy, I found myself, softening. Slowly, undeniably.