Haru locked the apartment door behind him, shoulders slumping as he kicked off his shoes. Another long day at the office—deadlines piling like bricks, boss breathing down his neck. But home was his safe spot: Ichigo's toys scattered like landmines, Chris in the kitchen humming some pop tune while stirring dinner. The smell of garlic and tomatoes hit him, chasing away the work funk.
"Papa!" Ichigo bolted from the living room, black wavy hair bouncing, bright brown eyes lit up. He slammed into Haru's legs for a hug, clutching his stuffed dino like a shield.
Haru scooped him up, that soft smile breaking through his tired face. "Hey, my little warrior. Miss me?"
"Chris made spaghetti! With meatballs big as my fist!" Ichigo demonstrated with a chubby hand.
Chris poked his head out, light brown hair a charming mess, hazel eyes warm and playful. "Welcome home, Haru-san. Dinner in five—extra cheese, just how you like."
Haru set Ichigo down, crossing to pull Chris into a quick kiss. "You're a lifesaver."
Chris blushed faint, but his smile faltered a second—something off. Haru caught it. "You okay?"
Chris nodded quick. "Yep, just... long day. Ichigo kept me on my toes."
They ate family-style—slurping noodles, Ichigo making "monster faces" with sauce smears, Haru and Chris swapping work tales. But Haru noticed Chris's phone face down on the counter, vibrating silent once during dinner. Chris ignored it, but his lively posture stiffened.
After bath splashes and bedtime stories—Ichigo demanding "the dragon one" twice—they tucked him in. The kid was out like a light, tiny snores filling the room.
Living room hushed, Haru poured fresh tea, sitting close on the couch. "Spill. What's bugging you?"
Chris sighed, pulling out his phone. "Another call. Blocked number, but I know it's them. Left a voicemail this time."
Haru tensed, protective instinct kicking in. Play it.
Chris hit speaker. Rough voice crackled: "Iesuke. Nice payment last month—big boy move. But clock's ticking. Another five due Friday, or we stop playing nice. That cute family setup? Be shame if something... accidental happened. Kid's preschool looks fun. Drop the cash, same spot. Don't make us visit."
Click. Silence heavy as lead.
Haru's jaw clenched. "Those bastards. Threatening Ichigo again?"
Chris's hands shook, hazel eyes wide with fear. "It's escalating. The payments aren't enough—they keep adding 'fees.' What if they show up here? Hurt you guys because of my mess?"
Haru pulled him close, arms tight. "Not happening. We call the police—again. Add this to the report. And no more payments. That's just feeding the beast."
Chris nodded against his chest, but tension coiled tight. "I'm scared, Haru-san. This started with Mom's bills, now it's our life."
Haru tilted his chin up, dark brown eyes fierce. "We're in this together. No one's touching you—Ichigo or us."
The air crackled—fear mixing with need for reassurance. Chris leaned in first, lips brushing soft, then desperate. Haru kissed back hard, hands sliding to Chris's waist, pulling him onto his lap. Straddling close, bodies flush, Chris's slim frame pressing against Haru's taller build.
Tongues met urgent, tasting wine and want, breaths quickening ragged. Chris's fingers threaded through Haru's black hair, tugging light to deepen the angle. Haru groaned low, palms roaming under Chris's tee, tracing warm skin, feeling every shiver.
Shirts peeled off slow—Chris's lifted over his head, exposing smooth chest; Haru's button-up yanked free, revealing the slight athletic tone beneath. Skin met hot, electric—Haru's mouth trailing Chris's neck, kissing slow paths down to collarbone, nipping gently to draw breathy gasps.
Chris arched back, hips rocking instinctive, friction sparking through pants like fire. Haru's grip tightened on his thighs, guiding the rhythm, bodies grinding in slow, teasing rolls that built sweet tension low and deep.
Pants undone with shaky fingers, pushed away impatient. Bare now, sweat starting to sheen in the low light. They moved together—bodies aligned perfect, Haru's hand wrapping firm around them both, stroking in time with every thrust and slide. Chris's nails dug light into Haru's shoulders, leaving faint trails that stung sweetly.
The pace quickened—urgent but controlled, pleasure coiling tight as a spring. Whispers filled the space: Chris's breathy "Need you," Haru's husky "Got you, always." Eyes locked—hazel wide with raw emotion, brown burning with protective love.
Climax hit like a wave crashing—Chris tensing first, body bowing beautiful against Haru, release spilling hot with a muffled cry buried in Haru's neck. The clench and sight pulled Haru over the edge seconds later, hips stuttering as pleasure surged deep, shuddering through him in waves.
They stayed tangled long after, breaths evening out, foreheads resting together. Chris's cheeks flushed deep pink, a shy smile breaking through the haze. "You make the scary stuff feel... smaller."
Haru kissed his temple, arms still tight. "We'll make it go away for good."
They cleaned up gentle—shower together, hands soft and reassuring under the warm water, more tender kisses exchanged. Dressed in comfy sweats, they curled back on the couch with the wine, but talk turned serious.
Haru pulled out his laptop. "Let's document everything—timestamps, messages, that voicemail. Lawyer tomorrow, police follow-up. Maybe a restraining order."
Chris nodded, leaning into his side. "And security? Cameras are up, but what about alarms?"
Haru agreed. "On it. And no solo walks at night—I'll drive you everywhere till this blows over."
The night deepened, wine finished, but sleep came slow. In bed, Chris curled against Haru, his energetic cheer muted by worry. Haru held him close, protective hold firm, mind racing through plans. The collectors were heightening the game—threats more direct, personal. No more lurking shadows; this felt like the storm brewing close.
Morning came with forced normalcy: pancakes for Ichigo, who sensed the vibe and clung extra during breakfast. "Papa, Chris okay?"
Haru ruffled his hair. "Yeah, my buddy. Just grown-up stuff. We'll fix it."
Chris managed a genuine smile for the kid, but his hazel eyes held shadows. Preschool drop-off was tense—Haru scanned every car, every face. At work, Haru called the lawyer from his desk, arranging an emergency meet. Chris texted from class: Another blocked call. Ignored it.
Afternoon blurred into action: police station for update, officer assigning extra patrols around the apartment and preschool. Lawyer's office—discussing harassment charges, potential lawsuit if collectors could be linked to a group. "Gather evidence," she said. "Don't engage alone."
Evening routine helped ground them: park swings with extra vigilance, dinner of comfort pasta, bath time splashes to wash away the day. Ichigo demanded double stories, falling asleep mid-second.
Back in the living room, Haru checked the new alarm system app on his phone—motion sensors green, cameras clear. Chris paced a bit before Haru pulled him down. "We're safe tonight. Breathe."
Chris nodded, but the tension lingered like a fog. They talked strategies late into the night—backup plans if collectors showed, emergency contacts, even self-defense basics Haru remembered from a class years ago.
As they slipped into bed, Haru held Chris close, whispering, "No one's taking this from us."
Chris kissed him soft. "I know. Love you."
"Love you moreee."
Sleep came fitful, but together. The threats were heightening, whispers turning to warnings, but their resolve burned brighter. Whatever came next, they'd face it head-on.