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Sky is three cocktails deep and already questioning all his life choices.
The boat rocks beneath his feet like it’s trying to knock the common sense out of him, the DJ is spinning what might be the loudest remix of Levitating ever made, and his linen shirt—unbuttoned way lower than he’s comfortable with—keeps flapping open like it’s auditioning for a wind commercial.
“This was a mistake,” he mutters.
Beside him, Tay throws an arm around his shoulder, eyes hidden behind pink-tinted sunglasses even though the sun is quite literally setting. “Mistake? Babe. This is a vibe.”
Sammy, all legs and chaos in a strappy sundress, spins her drink in hand. “You’re on a yacht. Off the coast of Phuket. Surrounded by beautiful people. There’s free alcohol. Shut the hell up.”
Sky pouts. “I don’t even like parties.”
“You don’t like anything,” Tay reminds him. “That’s why we had to kidnap you.”
They did, in fact, show up at his apartment that morning with hangover drinks, sunscreen, and a floral print button-down two sizes too big. Now it clings to his chest every time the wind hits, and Sky feels like someone’s half-dressed sugar baby.
Which—fine. Could be worse.
Still, he’s halfway through deciding he’s going to spend the rest of this cruise hiding in a corner and pretending to look mysterious when it happens.
He sees him.
A boy—no, a vision—leaning over the edge of the boat, pale and visibly seasick, one hand gripping the railing like it personally offended him. His hair is dark and a little messy, strands sticking to his forehead from the humidity. His shirt is light yellow, loose and open in a way that reveals sharp collarbones and just the edge of a slim gold chain.
Sky actually stumbles.
The boy looks like he’s about to throw up—but somehow manages to look like a fashion editorial while doing it. Which feels illegal. Or at least unfair.
Then he groans something dramatically pained, and his friends burst out laughing—a tall guy holding a phone, and a girl in a bright skirt who is clearly not taking any of his shit. They’re teasing him, and he’s giving it right back—half-hearted middle fingers, a lazy smirk, and something muttered that makes the girl shriek with laughter.
And then—Gods help him—he smiles.
Sky’s breath goes sideways.
“You okay there?” Tay asks, cocking his head.
Sky doesn’t answer.
“You’re staring,” Sammy says bluntly. “Like full-on cartoon heart eyes.”
“I am not,” Sky says, which would be more convincing if he weren’t clutching his drink like it’s his emotional support juice and still openly watching.
“Who is he?” Tay hums. “You know him?”
“No,” Sky says quietly.
“But you wanna,” Sammy grins. “Damn, he’s not even your usual type.”
Sky doesn’t have a usual type. He’s never been that guy. Never gets crushes, never flirts, never bothers—because people are exhausting and complicated and mostly disappointing.
But this boy… He looks like every kind of trouble Sky’s never let himself want. Sick and smug and a little too pretty. Like he bites when he kisses. Like he wins every argument by rolling his eyes and saying, “Do you really think you’re right?”
And Sky is wrecked.
“I think I’m having a stroke,” he whispers.
Sammy cackles. “Oh, baby. You’ve got it bad.”
“I don’t even know his name.”
“Worse,” Tay says, sipping from his pineapple drink. “You’re into someone who looks like he’ll insult your music taste and ghost you after you fall in love with him.”
Sky watches the boy press a hand to his stomach like he’s fighting off nausea, but then—laughs again at something his friend says. His whole face lights up, soft and golden in the sunset glow. Even the sea seems to still around him.
He’s like art. Chaotic, off-balance, mouthy art.
Sky wants to write poetry about his eyebrows. Sky wants to hold his hair back while he’s sick and then get roasted for it. Sky wants to know him.
“Okay,” Sammy announces. “We have approximately one hour of sunset and unlimited rum punch. Operation: Make Sky Flirt begins now.”
“No—” Sky panics. “I literally can’t—he looks like he’d bite my hand if I offered him a ginger ale.”
“Exactly your type,” Tay sings. “You’re so screwed.”
Sky is drunk. Not sloppy drunk. Not dance-on-the-deck drunk. But just buzzed enough that everything feels a little too sharp and a little too slow at the same time.
And he still can’t stop staring.
The boy—the boy—is now lounging across one of the padded sunbeds like the sea itself personally invited him to sprawl there. His shirt’s slipped further off one shoulder, exposing a smooth stretch of collarbone and the delicate gold chain glinting there. A half-empty cocktail glass is balanced on his stomach, garnished with what looks like a tiny pineapple and a violently pink flower.
He looks like a fever dream. Like wealth and disdain and the aftermath of a particularly glamorous crime.
Sky can’t feel his legs.
“You need to stop,” Sammy says, elbowing him lightly. “You look like you’re trying to eye fuck him from across the boat.”
“I’m not—” Sky starts, but he is. He absolutely is. His eyes keep drifting back like they’re tethered to him by some invisible hook. It’s not even just the way he looks—it’s the way he moves. Languid. Loose. Like the world spins just to entertain him.
He’s still pale, still clearly a little seasick, but that only seems to add to the impossible glow of him. Every time he shifts or stretches, Sky’s brain short-circuits a little more.
“Oh my gods,” Tay mutters, staring over his sunglasses. “You’re obsessed. You’re actually obsessed.”
Sky grips his glass tighter. “I just think he looks… interesting.”
“Interesting?” Sammy repeats, deadpan. “Sky, your mouth was open a second ago. You look like you want to write a sonnet and then die in his lap.”
Sky groans. “Please kill me.”
“You know what would be easier?” Tay grins. “Walking over and talking to him.”
“Absolutely not.”
Sammy throws her head back and laughs. “You’re scared of him.”
“I’m terrified of him,” Sky hisses.
And really—can you blame him? The guy looks like the kind of person who would slice you open with a backhanded compliment and then ask you why you bothered speaking to him in the first place. His vibe is unbothered royalty. His resting face is 90% judgment and 10% beautiful enough to get away with it.
Sky wouldn’t survive thirty seconds.
And then—then—as if summoned by Sky’s constant, desperate gaze, the boy shifts again on the lounge. Slowly, he brings the cocktail glass to his lips, sipping through the little straw with a sigh, and—
His eyes flick up.
Across the boat.
Right. At. Sky.
Sky freezes.
The boy doesn’t smile. Doesn’t frown. Just holds his gaze, all lidded lashes and unimpressed feline energy, and cocks a single, delicate eyebrow.
Sky swears his heart stops.
“Oh no,” Sammy says, sounding gleeful. “He caught you.”
“Abort mission,” Tay says. “You’re red. You’re literally going red.”
“I’m not red,” Sky lies, sweating.
“Babe, he’s looking at you like you’re a mildly interesting stain on a white carpet,” Sammy whispers. “And you love it.”
Sky finally looks away, dragging his eyes back down into his drink like he’s trying to drown in it.
Across the boat, the boy—Nani, as his friend had called him earlier—tilts his head and murmurs something to the girl beside him. She turns, follows his gaze, and immediately bursts into laughter, elbowing him like I told you. The tall guy—Ohm, probably—leans over too, eyebrows raised in intrigue.
Sky could die. Right here. Right now. On this boat. In this stupid shirt. As the main character in a slow-burn humiliation arc.
“He knows,” Sky groans.
“He definitely knows,” Tay says, sipping with delight.
“Okay but, like…” Sammy leans in conspiratorially. “What if he’s into it?”
Sky chokes. “He’s literally laughing at me.”
“He hasn’t looked away though,” Tay murmurs. “Not even once.”
Sky peeks. Just a glance. Just enough to see—
Nani is still watching him. Not smiling. Not laughing. Just lying there like a bored prince at a party he didn’t want to attend, tapping his glass gently against his stomach.
And he looks interested.
Just barely.
Just enough.
Sky nearly drops his drink.
The sun is melting into the sea when the real chaos begins.
Music swells—deep bass and tropical synths, something pulsing and stupidly sexy—and the energy shifts. People are dancing now, laughing, sweaty and sun-warmed, arms thrown around shoulders and drinks raised high. The DJ’s in full control. Sunset paints everyone in gold.
Sky stands stiff near the bar like the world’s most awkward scarecrow.
“Come on,” Tay says, tugging at his arm. “We’re dancing.”
“I don’t dance.”
“You will if you love me.”
Sammy spins past, cheeks flushed, drink sloshing slightly over the edge of her glass. “If you don’t come willingly, we will sacrifice you to the ocean gods.”
Sky groans but lets himself be dragged forward anyway, out onto the main deck where the crowd has thickened, bodies swaying, hips moving like everyone’s been waiting all day to let go.
He tries. He really does.
But he dances like a man who’s thinking too hard about his limbs.
Tay and Sammy are immediately in their element—Sammy’s hips are dangerous, and Tay somehow manages to make pointing and winking into choreography. Sky mostly shifts weight between his feet, clutches his drink, and prays no one is looking.
Correction: he prays one person isn’t looking.
But when he glances across the crowd—
Nani’s there.
Still with his little group, but now on the far side of the dancing bodies, no longer lounging. No longer pale and half-asleep. He’s upright. Smiling. Moving.
And Sky—
Sky is fucked.
Because Nani moves like heat.
Like his body is made of sin and slow Sundays. Every step is fluid, hips rolling in lazy arcs, arms raised just enough to show the curve of his waist under the loose flutter of that criminally thin shirt. His eyes half-lidded. His mouth parted. He moves like he knows he’s being watched. Like he’s used to being watched.
Sky can’t breathe.
Tay, mid-dance, leans in. “Ohhhhhh my gods.”
Sammy follows his line of sight, catches Nani in motion, and lets out a shriek that cuts through the beat. “Holy shit.”
Sky covers his face. “Please don’t—”
“Bitch,” she hisses, “He’s dancing like he’s trying to get arrested!”
“Do you think I wanted to like him?!” Sky snaps, voice cracking.
Across the deck, Nani shifts his weight, sways low, arches just slightly back, hips dipping in time with the rhythm. The light catches on the sweat at his collarbone. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips.
Sky might actually pass out.
And then—then—Nani looks up. Just briefly.
Eyes straight to Sky.
Not long. Not a full moment. Just a flick. A check. Is he still watching?
He is. Of course he is.
Nani’s lips twitch. Barely.
Then he turns back to his friends like nothing happened.
Sky is going to scream.
“I’m gonna cry,” he whispers. “I’m going to cry actual tears.”
“He looked at you,” Tay says, stunned.
“No, he checked on you,” Sammy corrects. “That was the look of a man who knows someone’s down bad and wants to see if you’re still dying.”
“I am,” Sky says. “I’m dying actively.”
Across the deck, View leans into Nani’s ear. He snorts. Ohm lifts a brow and glances—yep—straight at Sky. The three of them exchange some silent conversation Sky can’t decode but definitely does not survive.
“Are they talking about me?” Sky hisses.
“Oh, they’re plotting,” Tay says gleefully.
Sammy fans herself. “This is better than reality TV. He’s baiting you. That boy is dancing at you.”
Sky groans and spins away, nearly bumping into someone. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”
Tay slaps his back. “You don’t even have to. You just have to exist and that man is going to crawl across the deck and lick tequila off your neck.”
“Don’t say that!” Sky squeaks.
Sammy raises her glass. “To Sky, our poor little top-coded disaster who fell for the sea witch.”
Sky drains the rest of his drink like it might drown the blush blooming in his ears.
Nani moves again. Sways. Glances.
Sky’s dead.
And still—still—he doesn’t make a move.
Because what the hell would he say to someone like that?
Hi, I’ve been watching you all day and you’ve haunted my soul in real-time?
Yeah. No. He’ll die quietly first.
Sky needs air.
The music’s too loud, the crowd too warm, and every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is him—hips swaying, lashes fluttering, mouth half open like the heat was making him melt.
Sky retreats toward the side deck, weaving through bodies until he finds a bit of open space by the railing. The sea stretches out endlessly, black and glittering. The wind hits his damp skin and he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for an hour.
“Okay,” he whispers to himself, voice shaky. “Get it together.”
He presses a cold bottle to his face, trying to chill the rising panic. Not just from the alcohol, or the heat, or even the embarrassment—but from how much he wants that boy. That boy he hasn’t even spoken to. That boy who dances like sin and looks back like he knows.
Sky groans. “You’re pathetic. You don’t even like people.”
And then the boat rocks.
It’s subtle, just a slow roll beneath his feet—but enough to throw off his balance. He lurches sideways, catching himself on the railing with a curse—just as something solid crashes into his arm.
Someone.
“Shit—” Sky spins to apologise, arms full with his drink, his phone, a sweaty napkin, the beer he brought for Tay—
And comes face to face with him.
Up close, Nani is unfair.
Skin flushed, lips pink and wet, collarbone sharp beneath the gaping neckline of his shirt. There’s a sheen of sweat on his neck, a wildness in his eyes that says he’s still tipsy, still riding the high of the music. His lashes are so long, it feels rude.
“Oh—oh my Gods—” Sky fumbles immediately. “I’m—sorry—are you—did you—? Sorry.”
He drops his napkin. Then his phone. Then almost the bottle. It’s like his fingers have declared mutiny. “I didn’t see you—are you okay—?”
Nani just… stares.
A little out of breath. A little tilted from the sway of the boat. Eyes tracking Sky’s panic with infuriating calm.
Then—slowly—his lips curve.
Not kindly.
Not cruelly either.
Like he’s enjoying watching Sky implode.
“You always this smooth,” Nani says lazily, “or is it just when I’m around?”
Sky blacks out for a second.
“I—what? No, I—uh—” He bends to grab his phone and nearly bashes heads with Nani. “Shit, sorry, I just—I wasn’t—”
When he straightens, Nani is even closer.
Smelling like sunscreen and rum. Eyeliner slightly smudged. Still flushed and slightly off-balance, but holding himself like he owns the boat.
His gaze drops once—quick, deliberate—down Sky’s torso, then back up.
“Oh,” he says, voice dipped in amusement. “You’re cute.”
Sky forgets how to exist.
And then, without another word, Nani turns.
Just… walks away.
Not fast. Not dramatic. Just a quiet, deadly retreat—shoulders loose, steps lazy, drink swaying in his hand. He rejoins his friends without a backward glance, dropping into their conversation like nothing happened.
Sky stands there, heart in his throat, hands full of nothing useful.
“What the fuck was that,” he whispers.
He’s still reeling when he finds them again, pacing circles like a man who’s seen God and been personally rejected.
“I talked to him,” Sky blurts. “I spoke to him.”
Tay screams. Sammy grabs his shoulders.
“You WHAT?!”
“It wasn’t—it was—he bumped into me and I—I dropped my phone, and then he flirted and walked away.”
“WHAT DID HE SAY?” Tay is fully vibrating.
Sky repeats it. The line. The tone. The way Nani looked at him like he was peeling him open with his eyes.
“Ohhhhhh he’s playing with you,” Sammy howls. “He’s baiting you like a smug little cat.”
Across the deck, Nani glances over. Just a flick of his eyes. Almost bored.
You still watching? they seem to ask.
Sky is.
Of course he is.
Nani tilts his head. Smiles.
Then looks away again.
Tay clutches his chest like he’s witnessing a slow burn in real life. “You’re done. You are so done.”
Sky doesn’t argue.
Because he is.
Sky spends the next half hour in a state of pure psychic distress.
Every nerve in his body is tuned to him—Nani, lounging again with a drink in hand like he didn’t just obliterate Sky’s soul with a single sentence and then saunter away like a Bond girl in vacation-wear.
Sky tries not to look. He fails.
Again. And again. And again.
Across the deck, Nani doesn’t dance anymore. Just watches. Sometimes speaks to his friends. Laughs. And every so often—every so often—his eyes flick to Sky. Just for a second. Just enough to make Sky’s entire brain short-circuit.
And the worst part?
He smirks.
Like he knows.
Like he sees Sky trying to hold it together, sees how flustered and red and embarrassingly fixated he is. And likes it.
Like he’s waiting for Sky to do something stupid.
“He’s toying with you,” Sammy says, flopped over a lounge with her drink straw half in her mouth. “This is erotic psychological warfare.”
“I’m being hunted,” Sky mutters. “Like prey.”
Tay wheezes. “I’ve never seen you like this. You’re usually so cool. So emotionally distant. Now look at you—drenched in sweat, blushing like a schoolgirl.”
“He’s too pretty,” Sky says, dazed. “He moves like sex, and he talks like he’d kill me for using the wrong wine glass.”
“He would,” Sammy agrees, “but you’d thank him.”
Sky groans and buries his face in his hands.
The boat is tilting into full party mode now—string lights on, people cheering as someone suggests a game.
Truth or Dare.
Of course.
Sky tries to escape.
He fails.
Sammy grabs him by the wrist. “Nope. You’re playing.”
“I don’t—”
“You are playing. This is fate. Destiny. A romcom third-act setup.”
The group clusters into a loose, chaotic circle. Laughter, teasing, cups being refilled, bodies swaying closer with every tilt of the boat. Tay ends up next to a guy with abs so defined they reflect the LED lighting. Sammy wedges herself between two influencers like a queen choosing her court.
Sky ends up at the edge. Distant. Safe.
Until he sees Nani sit down.
Not next to him. Not even near him. But across the circle—angled just enough that his knees are pointed in Sky’s direction. That his eyes, when they flick up lazily from his drink, land exactly where Sky is sitting.
Sky forgets how to breathe.
Nani is draped over the cushions like they were custom-designed to display him. His legs are folded, one ankle up on the seat, exposing smooth, tan skin and the edge of a golden anklet that has no business being that sexy. His hair’s messier now, his shirt riding dangerously low, and his eyes—
His eyes are fixed on Sky like a game he’s already won.
Sky looks away.
He looks back.
Nani raises a brow.
Sky panics and pretends to check his phone.
“OH MY GODS,” Tay hisses under his breath, having somehow materialised behind him. “You are dying.”
“I think he’s going to pounce,” Sammy whispers gleefully.
“He’s not even doing anything!” Sky chokes.
“That’s the point!” they say in unison.
Someone in the circle gets dared to kiss the person to their left. Someone else does a body shot. Someone else licks someone’s ear for twenty bucks. Sky barely registers it. His whole body is buzzing from one single look across the group.
At one point, View leans in and whispers something to Nani.
Nani glances at Sky.
Smiles. Just a bit too sharp.
Sky nearly drops his drink again.
“You’re gonna combust,” Sammy says, genuinely concerned. “Your body isn’t built for this much want.”
“I’m not built for him,” Sky hisses, eyes wide, heart pounding. “He’s built to destroy.”
Tay nods solemnly. “And you want him to do it.”
Nani shifts on his cushion, stretching his arms over his head with a slow, languid grace. His shirt lifts just an inch. Just enough.
Sky physically whimpers.
Across the circle, Nani catches it. Watches him. Smirks again.
Sky is ruined.
And they haven’t even spoken again.
The game is devolving into chaos, the circle now a blend of drunk dares and drunker truths, people getting bolder, louder, braver. Someone’s shirt is off. Someone else is in someone’s lap. It’s a mess.
Sky’s still doing his best impression of a potted plant, sipping slowly, cheeks hot.
He can feel Nani’s presence across the group. He doesn’t have to look—his whole body knows where he is. Every time there’s a lull, Sky dares a glance.
Nani’s always watching back.
He looks devastating.
Flushed cheeks, legs stretched out now, drink balanced in one hand, other arm slung behind View. He looks like he’s lounging in a photo shoot. Not a hair out of place. Lips slightly glossy. And he has not stopped throwing Sky those lazy, knowing looks.
Sky might actually burst into flames.
And then—disaster.
“Sky,” someone calls. Tay. Drunk and dangerous. “Truth or dare?”
Sky freezes. Everyone turns.
He sees Nani’s gaze sharpen slightly, just for a moment. Interest. Anticipation.
Sky swallows. “Truth.”
Sammy grins like a hyena. “Have you been checking out someone on this boat all night?”
“NO,” Sky blurts.
The circle erupts with laughter.
“That sounds like a lie,” View says sweetly.
Sky looks down at his drink. “I—uh—no comment.”
“A non-answer is an answer,” Ohm smirks.
“Next round,” someone laughs, and the game keeps spinning—but not before Sky catches Nani looking at him.
Just looking. Still and sharp. One brow lifted. Like: Bold choice. Lying, weren’t you?
Sky wants to walk into the sea.
Later, Nani gets one too. A dare. From View, of course.
“Kiss the person you think has the best lips.”
Chaos.
People cheer. Lean forward. Someone already puckers.
Nani? Sits up. Looks around slowly, theatrically.
Then reaches out and presses a lazy, dry kiss to View’s cheek.
View shouts in protest—“I’m disqualified, bitch!”—but the group howls anyway.
Sky nearly cries.
The game breaks apart. People drift. Music picks up again. Tay and Sammy vanish into the dancefloor, yelling something about tequila and immortality.
Sky tries to escape again—he needs space, air, a goddamn priest.
He finds a quieter spot at the far edge of the boat, near the staircase to the lower deck, gripping the railing and breathing like he just ran a marathon.
And then—
Footsteps.
He turns.
It’s him.
Nani.
Up close again. Somehow even more unfair in the warm shadows of the boat’s edge. The wind ruffles his shirt and the sea-salt in his hair. He looks sun-warmed, rum-drunk, half wild. He doesn’t look sick anymore. He looks dangerous.
“Running off again?” Nani says, voice low and amused.
Sky panics. “I—I wasn’t—uh—”
“You really don’t handle pressure well, huh?”
Sky blinks. “I—no—yes—I mean—I just needed some—air?”
Nani steps closer. One small step. Enough to close the gap between them to something stupid. His eyes are fixed on Sky’s mouth now. Sky might throw himself overboard.
“You always like this when someone flirts with you?” Nani murmurs, head tilted.
Sky makes a sound. Not a real word. Just a helpless, panicked noise.
Nani hums. “Cute.”
Sky’s eyes go wide. He tries to salvage the moment. Fails immediately. “I’m—Sky.”
Nani blinks once. “I know.”
Sky short-circuits.
“And you’re…” he gestures helplessly. “You’re…”
Nani’s lips twitch, amused. “Still waiting.”
“Right. Yes. I—uh—I didn’t catch your—”
“Nani.”
Sky exhales. Like he’s just been given something holy.
Nani shifts, leaning back against the railing, facing him fully now. He sips his drink. “You’re really bad at this.”
Sky nods. “I know.”
Nani smirks. “I think I like it.”
Sky dies. Again. For the second time today. Possibly third.
Nani lets the silence hang for a second, just long enough to let it burn.
Then—again—he just… turns.
Starts to walk away.
“You—uh—” Sky blurts, desperate, “you leaving?”
Nani glances back over his shoulder.
One final little smirk.
“Maybe.”
Then he’s gone.
It starts with Nani dancing again.
The crowd’s thicker now. The lights dimmer, golds and deep reds casting everyone in heat. The DJ’s slowed things down just enough—bass heavy, sensual, coaxing everyone to press closer.
And Nani?
Nani is at the centre.
Like a flame. Like something magnetic. Surrounded by bodies now—people laughing, grinding, drawn to him like moths. His arms are raised, shirt clinging just a little to his skin. Sweat and salt and something so utterly gorgeous Sky can barely look directly at him.
But he does. He can’t stop.
And Nani—oh, Nani—is still watching him.
Even with another man pressed behind him, fingers at his hips. Even as he moves with the music, slow and sinful, Nani’s eyes flick across the crowd. Find Sky. Stay there.
Like a challenge.
Like: ‘You gonna just watch all night, baby? Or you finally gonna do something?’
Sky’s jaw clenches.
Tay is nearly foaming at the mouth. “If you don’t go over there I will.”
Sammy slams a hand on the table. “GET. YOUR. MAN.”
Sky stares at the tequila shot in front of him like it’s about to change his life.
Then he takes it.
Warmth floods his chest. Liquid courage. Stupid, reckless courage.
He sets the glass down. Stands.
“Oh my gods he’s doing it,” Tay hisses.
Sammy fans herself. “Someone play ‘Eye of the Tiger’.”
Sky doesn’t hear them anymore. Doesn’t feel the music or the boat or the fear in his throat. Just heat.
Just Nani in the middle of it all, that sly, perfect smirk curling at his lips the second he sees Sky coming.
The guy dancing on him turns—starts to lean in.
And Nani just… steps away.
No words. No hesitation. His hands go straight to Sky’s shoulders, sliding over to loop lazily around his neck like they’ve done this a hundred times before. Like he’s claiming him.
“Finally,” Nani murmurs, too close to his mouth. “I was starting to think you didn’t like me.”
Sky forgets how to function.
His hands hover—then land on Nani’s waist. Barely. Light. Like he’s afraid he’ll break something. Nani leans in closer.
“Scared?”
Sky swallows hard. “Terrified.”
Nani’s smirk sharpens. “Good.”
The music pounds. Nani moves—slow, deliberate—pulling Sky with him. Their bodies shift together, too close to be casual, hips brushing. Sky’s hands tighten instinctively, fingers sinking into the soft fabric at his sides.
And Nani—oh, Nani feels unreal. Warm and lean and infuriatingly in control, rolling his hips just enough to make Sky’s knees shake.
“You can touch me, you know,” Nani murmurs, lips near his ear. “I did come to you.”
Sky lets out something like a breath and a prayer. His hands grip tighter.
Nani laughs.
“What’s wrong?” he purrs. “Still thinking too hard?”
“You’re…” Sky chokes. “You’re a lot.”
“I know.”
Another roll of his hips. A brush of his thigh. His nails ghost at the back of Sky’s neck. Sky shudders.
“And yet,” Nani whispers, smile wicked, “you still haven’t kissed me.”
Sky’s brain blanks.
Nani leans back just enough to look him in the eye.
“Maybe you are just here to watch.”
Sky growls. “I’m not.”
Nani arches a brow. “Prove it.”
Sky doesn’t remember how to dance.
Not really. Not with someone like this.
Nani’s body is flush against him now, fluid and intentional, like he’s crafting a performance for Sky’s soul to break over. His arms remain hooked around Sky’s neck, lazy and possessive, fingers sometimes grazing through the curls at Sky’s nape. His hips roll slow and low, matching the heavy pulse of the bass.
It’s not just dancing. It’s foreplay.
It’s war.
Sky’s hands are still clamped on Nani’s waist like they’re the only thing keeping him from combusting. His grip keeps tightening with every movement, every glide of thigh against thigh, every teasing brush of Nani’s breath across his jaw.
And Nani is smiling. That smug, secretive little smile that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“You okay?” he purrs.
Sky swallows. Hard. “I—yeah.”
Nani leans closer, their foreheads nearly touching, lips ghosting. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I might.”
Another slow grind of hips. That same barely-there pressure. And then—the switch. Nani turns his back to Sky, pressing into him with deliberate friction, the swell of his ass rolling back with each beat, dragging against Sky like he’s been waiting to ruin him all night.
Sky gasps.
Hands grip tighter.
Nani doesn’t stop. Just laughs softly under his breath and leans his head back against Sky’s shoulder.
“Thought you were gonna kiss me,” he murmurs, almost bored.
“I—” Sky’s mouth is dry. “I didn’t want to—uh—be weird.”
Nani’s shoulders shake with laughter. “Sweetheart, you’ve been watching me like you wanted to devour me since before sunset.”
Sky whines.
And that—that—gets a hum of satisfaction out of Nani. Like he’s testing Sky’s limits. Like he’s marking the spots that make him twitch.
He shifts again—slow, slow, filthy—grinding back harder this time, and Sky’s breath hitches.
“Oh,” Nani coos, “is that a problem?”
Sky’s brain has blue-screened. His hands start to drift—he catches himself.
Nani notices.
“Touch me properly,” he says, voice lower now, intimate. “Or don’t touch me at all.”
Sky grips.
Full palms on Nani’s hips now, dragging him closer. He leans down—eyes fluttering shut, nose brushing against the slope of Nani’s neck, breathing in sun and sea and sweat and expensive fucking cologne.
“You smell—fuck—”
“I know.”
It’s unbearable.
The bass throbs beneath their feet. Bodies sway all around them. But Sky’s world has narrowed to this: the burn of Nani’s ass against his front, the cool brush of his necklace at Sky’s chest, the heat in his blood, the pure ache of being so close and still not allowed to break.
And Nani?
Nani just keeps moving.
Pushing.
Pulling.
Dragging Sky right to the edge and leaving him there.
On one particularly sharp roll of his hips, Sky lets out a sound that’s way too loud, way too needy.
Nani finally turns his head, lips by Sky’s ear.
“Still not gonna kiss me?” he whispers. “Or are you just that obedient?”
Sky chokes.
Nani’s smile is devastating.
Then—without warning—he steps forward.
Breaks the contact.
Sky jolts like he’s been unplugged from the sun.
Nani just spins, swaying backward into the crowd again, retreating with lazy steps and fire in his eyes. He doesn’t look back.
But he knows.
He knows Sky is watching him leave.
Knows Sky’s heart is pounding, hands shaking, lips parted like he would’ve begged if he stayed one second longer.
Knows he won.
For now.
And then—he’s gone.
Nani slips back into the crowd like a ripple on water. One minute he’s pressed against Sky, all heat and temptation, the next—vanished.
Sky blinks, breathless. Sweaty. Aching.
Where did he go?
He stumbles forward a few steps. Looks left. Right. Scans faces, bodies, shadows—but Nani’s nowhere. He’s just gone.
“What the fuck just happened,” Sky whispers to himself.
He drifts aimlessly for a while, tries to act like he’s cool, like he’s not borderline feral. But it’s useless. Every brush of wind, every shadowed shape—it’s not him. It’s not Nani.
Eventually, he slinks back to Tay and Sammy, who are fully losing their minds.
“Oh. My. GODS,” Sammy screams as he approaches.
Tay grabs both his shoulders and shakes him. “I’ve never seen anything so pornographic that didn’t involve nudity.”
“You were on the dance floor like this,” Sammy says, doing a disturbingly accurate imitation of Sky’s face mid-horny-crisis.
“I blacked out,” Sky says, voice wrecked.
“You looked like you were gonna pass out and cum at the same time.”
“I was.”
Tay gasps. “Where is he?! Did you kiss?! Did he murder you?!”
“He left.”
“HE LEFT?!”
Sky looks down at his hands. “I think I died.”
It’s only a few minutes later that it happens.
Sky’s facing the bar again, trying to cool down, trying to breathe, when he feels it.
That presence. That weight. That pull.
He turns.
And there he is.
Nani.
Emerging from the far side of the deck like a vision, backlit by string lights and moonlight, a drink in hand, shirt slightly askew. His lips are shiny. His gaze is direct.
He looks at Sky like nothing else exists.
Like he planned every second of this.
Sky doesn’t think.
He moves.
Crosses the space between them in five long strides, chest tight, head spinning.
Nani stops. Smirks. Tilts his head like, What now, baby?
And Sky—snaps.
He reaches out. Fingers wrap around Nani’s wrist, gentle but firm. Nani’s brows lift, clearly delighted. He doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t resist.
“Oh,” Nani hums, cocking his head. “So you can make a move.”
“Come with me,” Sky says. It comes out rough. Embarrassingly serious.
Nani blinks slowly. “Please.”
Sky all but drags him away.
They stumble down a narrow passage toward the lower deck, somewhere quieter. Darker. Near the edge of the boat where the speakers are muffled and the sea sloshes close. Sky doesn’t let go until they’re tucked into shadow, half-hidden by the curve of the hull and the cover of hanging life jackets.
He spins.
Nani is already leaning back against the wall, wrist still loose in Sky’s hand, like he’s been waiting to be pinned here.
“You like dragging boys into corners?” Nani teases, voice low. “This what you do when you’re desperate?”
Sky’s breath catches. “I’m not—”
“You are.”
Sky’s hand is still on his wrist. His other is hovering near Nani’s waist, torn between restraint and instinct.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes you did.”
Sky’s knees almost buckle.
Nani leans in just slightly, gaze sharp, voice pure velvet. “What now, Sky?”
Sky lets out a strangled laugh. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
Nani’s smile turns sharp. “That’s the idea.”
They stand like that—pressed close, breathing hard, shadows flickering across their faces, not touching, not yet, but so fucking close.
Nani’s eyes flick to Sky’s lips.
Sky sways.
“Still waiting?” Nani murmurs.
Sky opens his mouth. Closes it.
He doesn’t kiss him.
Because that’s not Nani’s game. Not yet.
They’re too close.
The shadows wrap around them, the low thrum of the boat’s engine beneath their feet, but Sky barely feels anything except the body in front of him—the way Nani stands half-slouched against the wall, one hand still held gently in Sky’s grip, the other trailing fingertips lazily down Sky’s chest.
“You really brought me down here to look at me?” Nani murmurs, voice all sugar and venom.
Sky tries to breathe. Fails.
“I—no. I just—” He flounders. “You—left. And I didn’t know where you went—”
“So you hunted me down?”
Sky’s mouth opens.
Nani leans in, whisper-soft. “That’s cute.”
Sky makes a wrecked little noise in the back of his throat.
Nani hums, pleased, dragging one finger up the centre of Sky’s chest. “You really are obedient, aren’t you?”
Sky’s breath shudders.
“You waited,” Nani says, voice lower now. “You let me grind on you, leave you hard and aching, and you still didn’t kiss me. Even now, you’re just standing here. Like you’re waiting for permission.”
Sky’s cheeks burn. His hand tightens just slightly on Nani’s wrist.
Nani smiles like he likes the tension.
Like he wants it to stretch.
He takes another step forward—barely anything, just enough for their chests to touch, for Sky to feel the slow press of Nani’s breath against his neck.
“I could do anything to you right now,” Nani says, mouth brushing the shell of his ear. “And you’d take it.”
Sky whimpers.
“I could make you beg.”
“You already are,” Sky croaks.
That earns him a delighted little laugh, soft and sharp.
And then—
Nani’s hands slide up to Sky’s jaw. Slow. Deliberate. He tilts Sky’s face down, thumbs stroking along his cheeks, holding him like he’s deciding.
Sky’s lips part.
Waiting.
Obedient.
Nani smiles.
“There it is,” he says softly. “That look. So fucking good when you’re desperate.”
And then—
He kisses him.
It’s not soft.
It’s filthy.
Nani kisses like he’s starving, like he’s been teasing both of them just to feel the exact moment Sky breaks apart. His mouth is hot, wet, open from the start. His tongue slides in like he owns the place, like Sky’s mouth was made to be taken like this.
Sky melts.
He lets out a broken noise and grabs at Nani’s waist like a drowning man. Pulls him in, grinds forward, breath stuttering as Nani moans into the kiss—soft but possessive, greedy but controlled.
It’s all hips and teeth and gasped exhales.
Sky barely knows which way is up. Nani’s hands are in his hair, tugging. His tongue’s pressing deeper. Their bodies are flush, hot, sticky with sweat and ocean air, and Sky’s brain is gone.
He chases the kiss like he’ll die without it.
And Nani? Nani lets him.
Lets him get sloppy. Lets him pant. Lets him press closer, lips dragging down Nani’s jaw, needy and raw.
“Fuck,” Sky mutters, mouth moving against Nani’s skin. “You taste—”
“Like you want to live here?” Nani whispers, breathless, smug.
Sky groans.
Nani leans back just enough to look him in the eye—flushed, wrecked, but still composed enough to smirk.
“You really are a loser.”
Sky nods helplessly. “Yeah.”
Nani kisses him again.
Harder.
Sky’s brain is gone.
Mouth bruised. Hands shaking. Body starving.
Nani’s still pressed to him, hips flush, chest heaving, and when Sky kisses him again—gods, when he kisses him again—Nani makes a sound that shreds straight through Sky’s spine.
And then—fingers.
Nani’s hands slide down, sharp and intentional, past Sky’s shoulders, down his chest, one palm gliding right over the thin fabric clinging to his lower belly.
Sky gasps into his mouth.
Then whines.
It’s high-pitched and involuntary, and humiliating—and Nani moans into it, like he likes it, wants it, like the sound does something to him.
His fingers dip lower. Cup.
Nani grins, all teeth, “oh. Big.”
Sky stumbles, grabbing at Nani’s hips to keep from buckling, the friction perfect, cock trapped and aching behind his pants, Nani’s palm right there, pressure just firm enough to be deliberate.
“Oh fuck,” Sky breathes. “You’re—fuck—”
“I know,” Nani whispers against his jaw, dragging his mouth down Sky’s neck. “I know.”
His teeth scrape skin.
Sky’s hips jerk. He’s rutting, unconsciously grinding into Nani’s hand like a man possessed.
And Nani?
Nani lets him.
Lets him grind, lets him pant, lets him press their bodies together like he’s trying to merge them. His hand doesn’t move—just stays, steady and hot, letting Sky chase the friction like a desperate virgin.
“Is this what you needed?” Nani teases, voice syrupy and low. “You came all this way just to hump my hand like a dog?”
Sky whimpers. “I—I’m—fuck—”
His hands are wandering too now. One curls into Nani’s hair. The other finds Nani’s ass, grabs hard, fingers sinking into soft flesh and muscle.
Nani gasps, hips twitching forward, lips breaking away.
“Oh,” he laughs breathlessly. “Bold.”
Sky doesn’t answer. He can’t. His mouth is on Nani’s neck now, dragging open-mouthed kisses along his throat, tasting salt and sweat and the burn of too much alcohol.
He bites.
Nani moans.
“Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing Sky’s hair, yanking his head back slightly. “Careful.”
Sky looks at him—completely flushed, pupils blown, lips swollen—and Nani’s expression flickers. For just a second, it’s not just cocky. It’s hungry.
Then he leans in, lips ghosting over Sky’s again.
“You’re so good like this,” he whispers. “So easy to ruin.”
Sky’s whole body shudders.
Then—footsteps.
Somewhere above them. Laughter. Two people walk past the railing just meters away. Close enough to see shadows if they looked down. Close enough to hear.
Sky freezes.
Nani doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop.
He presses harder.
Sky jerks against him with a choked moan, barely muffled.
Nani grins. “Aw. Embarrassed now?”
“Shut up,” Sky breathes. “Please.”
Nani leans close again, lips brushing his ear. “If I put my hand in your pants right now,” he murmurs, “would you let me?”
Sky whimpers.
Nani chuckles darkly. “Of course you would.”
The voices above grow quieter. Fading.
Sky breathes hard, still trembling.
Nani’s hand finally drifts away from the hard line in Sky’s jeans, but only to grab his jaw again. Tilt it up. Thumb brushing across his spit-slick lower lip.
“You’re so wrecked,” he whispers.
Sky’s eyes flutter. “Because of you.”
“I know.”
They don’t kiss again.
They just hover, chests heaving, adrenaline spiked, heat thrumming between them like a live wire.
A moment more.
Then Nani pulls back. Licks his lips. Straightens his shirt.
“You’re gonna think about this all night,” he says, sweet and sharp. “Aren’t you?”
Sky doesn’t answer.
Nani winks.
Then walks away again.
Sky can’t move.
He’s pressed back against the curve of the hull, chest heaving, pants still tight—too tight—his cock throbbing behind denim like a fresh bruise.
Nani is gone again.
Vanished with nothing but that satisfied little smirk and a glance over his shoulder like thank you for your service.
Sky sags against the wall, hands in his hair, trying not to scream.
He takes deep breaths. Counts them.
One.
Two.
Three.
Fuck.
He’s still hard.
He tries to adjust himself discreetly, fumbling with the waistband of his shorts, trying to think about anything that isn’t the sound Nani made when he bit his neck. Or the pressure of Nani’s palm. Or the way he said “If I put my hand in your pants right now…”
Sky groans. “I’m gonna die.”
He stumbles back toward the party after a minute or five. Not because he’s recovered. Just because he needs to pretend he’s a functioning human again.
He’s not.
Tay and Sammy spot him immediately—and pounce.
“There he is!” Tay screams. “Oh my GOD.”
“LOOK AT HIM,” Sammy yells. “LOOK AT HIS FACE. THAT’S A MAN WHO GOT RAVAGED.”
“I did not get ravaged,” Sky mutters, tugging at his shirt, cheeks burning.
“THEN WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE THAT?” Tay hollers. “You look like you just got railed behind the ice machine!”
“I didn’t! He just—we didn’t—” Sky flails. “I can’t even tell you what happened!”
“Oh you will,” Sammy grins, eyes gleaming. “Every second of it. Slow motion. Flashbacks. Hand gestures.”
“I am not hand-gesturing.”
Tay leans close. “Are you still hard?”
Sky looks at him, horrified.
Sammy gasps. “YOU ARE.”
“Shut up—”
Too late.
The air changes.
Sky feels it before he sees it—turns slowly—and there he is.
Nani.
Reappearing through the crowd like he’s parting the sea. View and Ohm flanking him, drinks in hand, chatting casually—but Nani’s eyes are already locked on Sky.
And he’s smiling.
No—smirking.
Smug, catlike. Satisfied.
Sky freezes.
Sammy hisses, “Do not start humping the bench.”
Then Nani does the unthinkable.
He breaks off from his friends. Just walks over. Cool and calm and terrifyingly in control—and sits down.
Right next to Sky.
No warning.
No fanfare.
Just lowers himself beside him, tucks in close, and settles, like Sky is furniture he owns and has chosen to curl up on.
Sky’s whole body goes rigid.
Nani’s shoulder brushes his. Then his thigh. Then—he leans in, warm and casual, his slightly smaller frame nestling in like they’ve been doing this forever.
Sky might actually die.
“Hi,” Nani says, soft and innocent, like he didn’t just get Sky to hump his hand behind the boat.
Sky stares down at him. “What are you doing?”
Nani tilts his head, blinks. “Sitting.”
“You’re—you’re on me.”
“Mhm.” He shifts just slightly, tucks closer. His arm brushes Sky’s again, slow and deliberate. “You’re warm.”
Sky exhales like he’s been hit.
Tay and Sammy are losing it across from them.
Sammy has a hand over her mouth. Tay is vibrating. Sky can feel the burn of their judgment from across the table.
“You okay?” Nani murmurs, barely audible, lips near Sky’s ear.
Sky’s whole body shudders.
“I—I think so.”
“You’re being very quiet.”
“Because you’re on me.”
Nani hums. “Do you want me to move?”
Sky stares at him.
Nani raises his brows, wide-eyed and sweet. Like it’s a genuine question.
Sky swallows hard. “No.”
“Good.”
He leans in again. Head near Sky’s shoulder. Stays there.
And Sky just sits.
Stiff.
Shaking.
Semi-hard.
Having a quiet breakdown in public while Nani lounges against him like a satisfied, sun-warmed kitten who just clawed his insides out and wants to purr about it.
Sky is still trying to figure out what the hell is happening when two more bodies slide into the bench beside Sammy and Tay.
They’re pretty. One’s tall and broad-shouldered with lazy eyes and a sarcastic aura. The other’s all angles, red lipstick, and danger. And both of them are staring at Nani like he’s committed murder.
“Sorry,” the lipstick one—View—says slowly, eyeing the scene in front of her. “Is this Nani?”
“Oh thank gods,” the guy—Ohm—sighs. “I thought I was hallucinating.”
Nani doesn’t look up from where he’s curled against Sky’s side, sipping his drink like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I can’t believe you brought your entire personality to this boat party just to throw it away like this,” View says, deadpan.
Sammy laughs. “You too, huh?”
Ohm glances at her. “You’ve also never seen this man voluntarily initiate physical contact with another human being?”
“Please,” Tay cuts in. “Sky ghosted a guy once because he smiled too much.”
“HE DID,” Sammy yells.
Sky tries to shrink into the seat.
He cannot shrink.
Nani is literally using him as a lounge chair—curled into his side, knees nudging Sky’s thigh, one arm slung lazily around his back, thumb occasionally stroking along the fabric of his shirt like he’s marking territory.
“Can you not,” Sky mutters under his breath.
Nani leans in, voice low. “You’re comfy.”
“You’re small.”
“And you’re warm.”
Sky swallows.
The others are still bickering.
“This is actually insane,” View says, watching Nani casually steal another sip of Sky’s drink. “You don’t even cuddle after sex, let alone during a random night on a floating club.”
“Oh, they haven’t had sex yet,” Tay says cheerfully. “Sky’s still trying to remember how to form words.”
Sammy leans forward conspiratorially. “You should’ve seen him earlier. He made a noise like he got possessed. And then disappeared for ten minutes. Came back looking wrecked.”
Sky dies.
“I was getting some air!”
“Yeah,” Nani murmurs, amused. “Me too.”
Sky chokes.
“You two didn’t—” View starts, scandalised.
“Nope,” Nani says lightly. “Not yet.”
Sky has stopped functioning.
View’s eyes are gleaming. “Yet?”
“Anyway,” Nani says breezily, adjusting so he can press even closer, now nearly draped over Sky’s lap. “We like him.”
“You don’t like anyone,” Ohm says.
Nani shrugs. “I like him.”
Sky is currently having what can only be described as a gay medical event.
And then.
It starts.
Nani’s fingers drop from where they’d been lazily stroking Sky’s back… and drift down.
Under the table.
Soft and slow, teasing the hem of Sky’s shorts. Just brushing along his exposed thigh.
Sky jolts.
Sammy looks up. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sky says too fast.
Nani doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t even move. Just continues circling slow, light fingers over the sensitive skin above Sky’s knee. A feather touch. A promise.
Sky sucks in a breath.
The conversation blurs around him—something about Milan, or maybe K-pop, or Sammy’s obsession with some Thai soap actor—but Sky hears none of it.
Nani’s fingers creep higher.
Soft strokes, slow and aimless, like he’s just idly thinking while mapping every inch of Sky’s thigh. One fingertip dips just under the leg of his shorts. Bare skin. Upward. Higher.
Sky makes a sound that might be a squeak.
Nani leans in like he’s whispering something—laughing at something Ohm said—but his hand just keeps going. Knuckles grazing closer and closer to where Sky is painfully, humiliatingly half-hard again.
“You okay?” Nani murmurs, too low for the others to hear.
Sky grits his teeth. “You’re evil.”
“I like watching you try to stay polite.”
“You’re gonna get me killed.”
“You love it.”
And then—
His fingers dip higher. Brush right against the curve of Sky’s cock through his briefs.
Sky jumps.
Sammy raises a brow. “Did you just flinch?”
“Nope,” Sky wheezes.
Nani’s hand lingers. Slow strokes now. Teasing pressure.
Sky’s going to explode. Or die. Or spontaneously combust and sink the boat.
He leans in, whisper-hissing into Nani’s ear. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna fucking—”
“Say please, cutie.”
Sky groans.
“Oh my god,” View says suddenly, pointing at them with a fry. “They’re having, like, an undercover hookup right now, aren’t they?”
“No,” Sky says desperately.
“Yes,” Nani says at the exact same time.
Ohm raises his glass. “Cheers to corruption.”
Tay laughs so hard he nearly falls off the bench.
Sammy grins. “I love love.”
And Nani?
Nani just smiles, smug and satisfied, still curled into Sky’s side like he owns him.
It shifts, after a while.
The chaos doesn’t vanish, but it smooths out—burns slower. The group’s scattered around the table now, drinks in hand, voices low and lazy, bathed in golden lamplight and streaks of sunset through the open deck railings.
They’ve learned names. Made jokes. Taken shots.
Tay’s telling View about the time Sky nearly fell off a stage during a rehearsal and tried to blame it on a ghost. Ohm is grilling Sammy about her film camera obsession. And through it all, Nani stays curled into Sky’s side, his smaller frame tucked in like it fits there. Like it’s supposed to be there.
And Sky…
Sky lets him.
Lets his arm drape around Nani’s waist. Lets his knee press to Nani’s thigh. Lets himself lean just slightly, his body bracketing Nani’s like instinct. Like need.
And Nani—he’s not teasing now. He’s not whispering threats or dragging fingers where they don’t belong. He just rests. Melts into the warmth of Sky’s bigger body like he’s found a home and has no plans to move.
It’s fucking devastating.
Then someone else walks up.
A stranger—tall, well-dressed, confident. Drunk on party confidence and salt air.
They lean on the table, eyes fixed on Nani. “Hey, beautiful. You look a little lonely over here.”
Sky stiffens instantly.
Nani lifts his head lazily. Doesn’t move away from Sky. Doesn’t even lift his chin. Just stares at the guy for a beat and then says, “Not lonely. Just selective.”
The guy grins. “Come dance with me?”
“No,” Nani says flatly.
“Come on,” they say. “One dance.”
Nani finally lifts his head. Tilts it. The smile he gives is lethal.
“I could be suffocating to death,” he says sweetly, “and I’d still pick the ocean over you.”
The guy blinks. “Jesus.”
Nani sips Sky’s drink, leans back into Sky’s side like he’s earned it, and doesn’t even look at the guy again.
Sky watches them walk away.
Possessive satisfaction flares in his chest. Ugly and sharp and warm as fire.
“He does this all the time,” View says to no one in particular. “Except usually, there’s no cuddling involved.”
Ohm nods. “You’re in, like, elite territory now.”
Sky doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t know how to explain that something in his chest is glowing. That Nani’s weight against him feels necessary. That it’s not just arousal anymore—it’s a pull. A gravity.
And then Nani shifts again.
Turns toward him. Slides—without warning—fully onto his lap.
Sky’s entire body locks.
Nani just adjusts himself like it’s nothing. Like Sky’s thighs belong to him. Like he’s done this a thousand times. He wraps an arm around Sky’s neck, leans in, mouth near his ear.
“You’re solid,” Nani whispers, almost like a secret. “Like stone.”
Sky swallows. “I—I—”
“Warm,” Nani murmurs, dragging his fingers down Sky’s shoulder. “Big. Strong.”
Sky’s breath hitches.
Nani lets his nose brush just under Sky’s jaw. “You feel like you could break someone in half.”
“Do you—want me to?” Sky blurts. “Like. Hypothetically?”
Nani laughs, soft and husky.
And then, in a voice only for him—
“You wanna know a secret?”
Sky nods mutely.
“I love a man I can ride like a wave,” Nani purrs.
Sky chokes on air.
Tay screams into his drink. Sammy is blinking rapidly like she’s buffering. Ohm and View exchange glances like they just watched a sex scene and don’t know if they should cheer or leave.
But no one interrupts.
Because the moment has tightened.
Nani’s hand finds Sky’s chest now—flat palm over his sternum—and stays there. Just… feeling. Like he’s grounding him. Or taking possession.
Sky forgets how to breathe.
Nani watches him closely, eyes molten and calm. “You’re really flustered, huh.”
Sky nods.
“You’re cute when you panic.”
“You’re mean,” Sky whispers.
“I’m honest.” Nani leans closer, the whole weight of his body relaxed and curled into Sky’s lap. “And you like it.”
Sky’s hand finds Nani’s waist. His hip. His thigh.
He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it—just needs to feel him. To touch. His hand flexes gently over the slim muscle, over soft skin under linen, and Nani shudders.
That’s when it hits him.
Not just the arousal. Not the filth or the tension.
But the ache.
The sudden, overwhelming sense that Nani—this fierce, sharp, beautiful thing—isn’t just hot. Isn’t just flirty. He’s perfect.
The mole beneath his Adam’s apple. The soft curve of his lower lip. The way he fits against Sky like they were carved from the same dream.
Something in Sky’s chest clicks. Locks into place.
He stares at Nani like he’s seeing a god. Or a ghost. Or something he lost a lifetime ago and forgot he was even looking for.
And Nani?
Nani just looks back.
Smiles that smile.
The boat docks just after midnight.
Warm air sweeps across the open deck, the city lights a glittering blur on the water. People gather their things in lazy clumps—heels in hand, half-empty bottles, laughter that sounds softer now, worn down by dancing and drinks and the slow creep of sleepiness.
Sky barely notices any of it.
Because Nani stands a few steps ahead of him on the dock—small, perfect, wind mussing his hair—and Sky?
Sky follows.
Like a puppy. Like gravity. Like his body doesn’t know how to stop.
Nani tosses a glance back, eyes gleaming. Doesn’t say a word. Just lets Sky come.
The group gathers near the end of the dock—both clusters of friends loosely tangled together now. Ohm’s offering View gum, Tay’s stretching dramatically like he’s run a marathon, and Sammy’s squinting at Google Maps like it’s threatening her family.
“Alright,” she says. “Who’s going where?”
“Grabbed a rideshare,” View says, tapping her phone. “Ohm and I are together.”
“Oh, we’ll just get a taxi,” Tay adds, nudging Sammy. “Sky, you with us or—”
Sky hesitates.
His eyes flick to Nani.
Nani, who is pretending not to notice. Who is pretending to be very interested in the streetlights. Who is smiling slightly, like he’s already heard the question Sky hasn’t even asked.
Sky takes a breath.
And another.
And then—“Hey. Um. I was just—where are you going after this?”
His voice cracks.
Sammy freezes.
Tay drops his phone.
Nani turns. Blinks. Tilts his head.
Then shrugs, utterly nonchalant, and says, “With you.”
Sky short-circuits.
“Wha—I—really?”
Nani just steps closer. “Did you think I was sitting on your lap because it was comfortable?”
Sky makes a noise.
Sammy grabs Tay’s wrist. “He likes someone.”
“He likes someone,” Tay echoes, teary-eyed. “It’s happening. It’s really happening.”
“Oh my gods,” Sammy whispers. “Our boy’s in love.”
“I’m not in love,” Sky says immediately.
“You’re blushing,” Nani murmurs.
“I’m sunburned.”
“It’s midnight.”
Sky hides behind his hands.
View watches with wide, delighted eyes. “This is adorable.”
“Wait, wait,” Ohm says, pointing. “You’re going home with him? Like now? Like just casually?”
“I’m spontaneous,” Nani says smugly.
“You’re not.”
“I am now.”
Nani doesn’t even ask—just reaches, takes Sky’s wrist, and starts pulling.
Sky follows.
No hesitation. No protest. Just goes, wide-eyed and useless, like the most obedient golden retriever you’ve ever seen.
And Nani’s grin?
That’s the smile of someone who knows exactly what kind of night he’s walking into—and how good it’s going to feel.
The ride’s short. Quiet.
Nani sits too close in the back of the Grab, one leg pressed against Sky’s, his thigh warm even through the fabric of his pants. The driver barely speaks, music soft and static-y on the radio.
Sky’s staring straight ahead.
Nani leans in. “You taking me to some cheap motel?”
Sky chokes.
“What? N—no! I’m—I’m taking you h-home.”
Nani hums. “You move fast, huh?”
“I—I didn’t—you said you were coming with me!”
“Mm,” Nani says, chin resting in his hand. “Didn’t say I wanted to get married.”
Sky whimpers.
When they pull up to the building, Sky nearly forgets how to walk.
The lobby’s quiet. Cool air conditioning. He punches his condo code into the elevator console—wrong. Tries again—wrong. His fingers are sweating. His soul is leaving his body.
Nani’s watching him with deep amusement. “Need help, baby?”
“Don’t—call me that—”
“Sorry,” Nani says, not sorry at all. “You just looked like you needed someone to take over.”
“I—I don’t.”
“Of course you don’t.”
Fourth time’s the charm. The doors finally slide open.
Sky walks down the hall like he’s headed to his own funeral.
Inside, his condo is dim and clean—mostly. A bit messy in the casual way of someone who lives here, who has routines, comfort. A stack of running shoes by the door. Books in crooked little piles by the couch. A framed photo of Tay and Sammy on the fridge, making dumb faces. Another of Sky’s little brother, grinning in his school uniform.
Nani walks in like he belongs.
Slips his sandals off. Pads in, barefoot. Shirt loose, collarbone on display. He spins slowly in the centre of the room, gaze flicking from shelf to shelf.
“You live like someone who thinks about what colour their bedsheets are,” he says.
“I—I do?”
Nani lifts an eyebrow, amused. “That’s not an insult.”
Sky watches, helpless, as Nani drifts toward the shelves.
Touches the spine of a book. Fingers the edge of a worn-out jacket hung by the door. Picks up a little ceramic turtle Sky made in high school pottery and stares at it like it might hold secrets.
Sky wants to implode.
“You like to run?” Nani asks, nudging a pair of beat-up Nikes with his toe.
Sky nods.
“You close with your brother?”
Sky nods again.
“You’re very quiet,” Nani says, glancing back over his shoulder.
“I don’t—I mean—you’re in my house.”
“Yes,” Nani says, turning to face him fully. “I am.”
It’s quiet.
Sky’s heartbeat is in his throat.
Nani walks back over. Slowly. Deliberately. His steps are soft, bare feet on hardwood, but his gaze is loud. Devouring.
Sky can’t look away.
Nani stops just in front of him. Tilts his head. Lets his fingers graze down Sky’s forearm.
“You always bring strangers home?” he asks.
Sky swallows. “You’re not—just—I don’t do this.”
“Mm,” Nani murmurs. “Neither do I.”
They’re close now. So close Sky can smell the last traces of Nani’s fruity cocktail, the soft clean sweat from dancing, the faint sweetness of something like peach on his skin.
He doesn’t know where to look.
At Nani’s mouth?
At the mole under his Adam’s apple?
At the way he’s looking at Sky like he already knows what Sky dreams about when he’s alone?
“I don’t get like this,” Sky says suddenly, desperate. “I don’t—feel like this about people. I don’t even notice people.”
Nani smiles, small and secret. “You noticed me.”
Sky closes his eyes.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “I did.”
A pause.
And then, softly, Nani leans in. Not kissing. Just letting his forehead rest against Sky’s shoulder, temple tucked under Sky’s jaw like he belongs there.
“You’re really warm,” he murmurs. “Feels good.”
Sky’s arms move on instinct. Wrapping around him. Enclosing him. Holding.
Like the safest thing he’s ever done.
And all that heat between them?
Still there. So there.
But now it hums under something else.
Not just want.
But care.
Longing.
Something aching and right.
The hug shifts.
Or maybe it blooms—one second, Nani’s tucked against his chest like something quiet and secret, and the next he’s pulling back just slightly. Tilting his head up. Looking right at him.
And this look—
It’s not cocky. Not cutting.
It’s open.
Soft and still. Light catching in his eyes. The kind of look that feels like something sacred.
But Sky’s still not free.
Because even in that softness, Nani’s gaze is knowing. Like he’s letting Sky have this moment—but it’s still his to give.
Sky’s breath stutters.
His hands tighten on Nani’s waist.
And then—snap.
Sky doesn’t think.
He acts.
Strong arms hooking around Nani’s thighs, lifting him clean off the floor.
Nani lets out a small, startled breath—eyes wide for the first time all night—but it melts fast, lips curling into something wicked and pleased.
“Oh,” he breathes, grinning. “Fuck, you’re strong.”
Sky’s panting. “I—uh—sorry—I just—”
“No,” Nani murmurs, looping his arms around Sky’s neck. “Don’t apologise.”
His hips shift in Sky’s grip, rubbing slow—bare skin against Sky’s shirt, friction just enough to make Sky groan.
“You like holding me like this, huh?” Nani whispers.
Sky’s already stumbling backward. Trying to get to his bedroom but hitting a wall first.
“Shit—sorry—fuck—”
Nani just laughs, giddy and breathless against his mouth. “Cute. Such a mess.”
Sky groans into the kiss. It’s messy now—teeth, tongue, heat. He nearly loses balance again when Nani shifts in his arms, grinding down against the hard line of his cock with zero mercy.
“You gonna break the door down next?” Nani pants into his ear.
“Could,” Sky gasps. “You’re worth it.”
“Ohhh,” Nani purrs. “Say more stupid shit like that. Makes me wanna ruin you.”
Sky lets out a helpless whine.
Sky kicks the bedroom door open with his toe—probably breaks it a little—and finally stumbles in.
Sits down hard on the bed with Nani still straddling his lap, wrapped around him like sin and satin, smug and gorgeous and so in charge despite doing absolutely nothing but sitting there.
Sky’s breath is coming in short, fast gasps. His hands grip Nani’s thighs like he’s afraid he’ll vanish if he lets go. And Nani? Nani just watches him fall apart, one slow blink at a time, like it’s a sport.
Then he leans in again.
And the kiss this time—it’s filthy.
No soft easing into it. No gentle press of lips. It’s needy. Tongue first, mouth open, Nani kissing him like he’s starving, like he wants to take something from Sky, and keep it.
Sky moans—actually moans, high and helpless—into Nani’s mouth. He tries to keep up, tries to kiss back with that same heat, but Nani’s already taken control of the rhythm. Tasting him. Dragging his tongue slow and slick against Sky’s like he’s savouring it.
Sky fumbles a hand to the back of Nani’s neck, then down his spine, desperate for more.
He’s so hard it hurts, cock pressing up tight between them—and Nani grinds down, slow and intentional, making Sky whimper.
“Shit—fuck—Nani—”
Nani laughs into his mouth, breath catching. “You’re already falling apart?”
Sky nods, forehead pressed to Nani’s. “I—I can’t—fuck—you’re—”
Nani licks into his mouth again, teasing and filthy. His hips roll, slow and deliberate, dragging their cocks against each other through fabric. Friction, just enough to make Sky buck beneath him and gasp.
“You kiss like someone who wants to beg,” Nani murmurs, lips brushing Sky’s ear now. “Is that what you are, baby?”
“I—fuck—I don’t know,” Sky stammers, clutching Nani’s hips now like they’re the only thing tethering him to earth.
Nani ruts against him again—smirking now, knowing—and Sky lets out a desperate, bitten-off sound, grinding up against him with no rhythm, no shame.
“Such a mess,” Nani whispers, sliding his hands under Sky’s shirt, palms flat and warm against trembling abs. “You gonna come in your pants just from kissing me?”
Sky chokes.
His hips jerk again, helpless. Nani bites his lip—just enough to sting—and kisses him deeper, filthier. His fingers curl into Sky’s hair now, yanking just enough to make Sky gasp into the kiss.
Their mouths don’t stop. Tongues and teeth, wet and open and desperate. It’s so messy now—so hot—Sky’s not sure which way is up, or if he’s even breathing anymore.
Nani shifts again—rocks harder this time, dragging a moan out of both of them—and Sky nearly loses it.
“You’re perfect like this,” Nani pants against his mouth. “All muscle, and no clue what to do with me.”
Sky whimpers, gripping tighter, grinding up into the heat between them like he’s been caged for weeks.
And Nani?
Nani just smiles, devil-sweet and breathless, lips swollen from kissing, flushed all the way down to his collarbones.
Still in control.
Still the one holding the leash.
And Sky’s never wanted anyone so badly in his life.
Nani kisses him breathless.
Again. Again. Again.
Until Sky forgets what day it is—what his name is—and the only thing that matters is the way Nani’s mouth moves, the way his hands explore, the way his hips grind.
Then—
Nani pulls back. Just a little.
And he looks at Sky like he’s starving.
“You gonna let me undress you?” he murmurs.
Sky nods. Too fast. Too eager. Pathetic.
Nani smiles like he knew that already.
Then he starts.
Shirt first.
Nani takes his time peeling it off, inch by inch, lifting the fabric like he’s unwrapping something sacred. And when Sky’s chest is bare, when all that golden skin and solid muscle is exposed in the soft light, Nani sits back a little.
And just—stares.
“Fuck,” he breathes, voice gone low. “Look at you.”
Sky flushes. “I—I—”
“You’re built like a wet dream,” Nani whispers. His fingers trail down over Sky’s collarbones, slow and admiring. “Do you even know what you look like?”
Sky whimpers as Nani leans forward and licks a slow line over his pec, teeth grazing over a nipple just to make him twitch.
“You’re unreal,” Nani murmurs. “Like, carved-from-stone hot. Thick in all the right places. And you don’t fuck? You don’t let people touch you?”
Sky shakes his head helplessly.
Nani kisses down his sternum, leaving a wet trail. “All for me then.”
Then his hands slide lower.
Over abs. Over the sharp cut of his hips. And then he’s kneeling on the bed between Sky’s legs, fingers hooking into the waistband of his pants.
“Can I?” he asks, voice like silk and sin.
“Please,” Sky gasps. “Please.”
Nani pulls.
And when Sky’s cock finally springs free—thick, flushed, huge—Nani goes still.
And then—slowly—his eyes widen.
“…Holy fuck.”
Sky wants to curl up and die.
Nani just stares. Jaw slack. Pupils blown wide.
“Jesus, Sky,” he whispers. “You’re fucking—huge.”
Sky makes a miserable, choked-off sound and tries to cover himself, but Nani grabs his wrists.
“No,” he says, fierce and quiet. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
He leans back, eyes devouring every inch of him. “This is the biggest cock I’ve ever seen. Ever. You’ve been hiding this? Walking around like a damn golden retriever with a monster dick and you don’t fuck?”
“I—I didn’t—no one ever—”
Nani crawls back into his lap.
“You could ruin someone with this,” he whispers against Sky’s jaw. “You could split me in half and I’d thank you for it.”
Sky makes a strangled whine.
“But you’re just sitting there,” Nani breathes, grinding down slowly against the underside of his cock. “Letting me do whatever I want. Letting me worship you.”
He kisses Sky again—deep, open-mouthed, tongue and teeth and filth. Then pulls back to murmur, “You like it? When I talk like this?”
Sky nods violently. “I—fuck—Nani—please—”
“You want me to ride it?”
Sky’s hands fist in the sheets. “I—I don’t know if—”
Nani laughs, filthy and breathless. “You’ll fit. I’ll make it fit.”
He kisses down again, slow and teasing, licking over Sky’s hip, mouthing down his inner thigh. One hand wraps around the base of his cock—barely fits, even with his fingers spread—and he groans.
“You’re gonna ruin me,” Nani whispers, tongue darting out to taste him.
Sky’s eyes roll back.
And he knows—he knows—he’s not going to survive this night.
Nani stares at his cock like it’s something divine.
Something he’s meant to worship.
Something he’s been aching to taste since the first second Sky looked at him on that boat.
He leans in—slowly, reverently—and presses one soft, open-mouthed kiss to the flushed head.
Sky jerks, hips twitching. The first brush of Nani’s lips sends sparks down his spine, a fire in his gut. His breath catches.
And then—
Nani opens his mouth wide, tongue flattening as he takes him in.
Hot. Wet. Tight.
Sky groans, low and raw in his throat.
And Nani?
Nani fucking moans around him.
A sound so obscene Sky nearly loses it right there. Deep, needy, filthy—like he’s getting exactly what he’s wanted all night. Like Sky’s cock is the best thing he’s ever tasted.
“Oh fuck,” Sky chokes out. “Oh—Nani—”
Nani doesn’t stop.
He sinks down, slow and steady, like he’s been training for this. Sky’s cock twitches on his tongue, already leaking, already too much—but Nani just takes it. His lips stretch wide, drool slicking the base, hand curling around what won’t fit and working it in rhythm.
And there’s a lot that won’t fit.
Sky’s big—too big for anyone to take easily.
But Nani’s a champion.
A filthy little cockslut, choking and moaning, tears already welling in his eyes—but still trying to swallow him whole.
Sky’s hands clench into the sheets. His head tips back, jaw slack, eyes fluttering closed.
“Nani—fuck—how—how are you so good at this—”
Nani bobs his head again, deeper this time, and Sky cries out. His cock hits the back of Nani’s throat, and the sound he makes is half-pain, half-prayer.
Then Nani gags—spits around him—and does it again.
Again.
And again.
Sloppy. Filthy. Perfect.
Saliva spills from the corners of his mouth, soaking Sky’s balls, slicking his inner thighs. His hand strokes what his throat can’t take, twisting just right, wrist flicking, palm pressed firm.
He pulls off with a loud, wet pop, spit and precum stretching in strings from his lips.
Then—his voice wrecked, eyes glassy, throat red—he looks up at Sky and pants:
“You taste so fucking good, baby.”
Sky nearly breaks.
His hand flies to Nani’s cheek, brushing the wet mess there, but Nani’s already diving back down, tongue swirling around the tip before sinking back onto him like he can’t get enough.
“F-fuck, fuck—Nani—oh my gods—”
Sky’s trembling now. Eyes wide. Chest heaving. Words spilling out like he can’t stop.
“You’re s-so good—so good at that—fuck, baby—your mouth is fucking perfect—I can’t—fuck—I’m gonna—”
Nani moans around him again, louder, and it vibrates all the way up Sky’s spine. He’s drooling now, messy and obscene, hands steady on Sky’s thighs as he works him—sucking, twisting, choking and swallowing like Sky’s cock was made for him.
Sky’s thighs are shaking.
And still—he can’t stop praising.
“Look at you,” he gasps. “Taking me so deep—like a fucking pro—fuck, you look so good like this—beautiful, baby, you’re—oh my gods—”
Nani blinks up at him through wet lashes, tears spilling freely now as he takes Sky to the back of his throat one more time.
Sky howls.
He’s not going to last. He’s not going to survive this.
And Nani knows it.
He wants it.
He’s coaxing it out of him, inch by inch, moan by moan, sucking like a starved man and holding nothing back.
“N-Nani—fuck—I’m gonna—”
Sky’s voice breaks halfway through the sentence, cracking like the rest of him. His fingers tangle in Nani’s hair, trembling, desperate—not pulling, just trying to warn him, to stop him, to—
But Nani doesn’t stop.
Of course he doesn’t stop.
He moans around Sky’s cock like he’s relieved, like this is what he’s been waiting for—Sky falling apart, Sky holding on by a thread, Sky so fucking close he can’t even think straight.
Sky bucks, hips stuttering helplessly.
“Fuck—Nani—I’m gonna—please—fuck I’m—”
And then he’s coming.
It hits him like a wave, violent and hot and endless.
Sky cries out—loud and wrecked—as his cock throbs deep in Nani’s throat, pumping pulse after pulse of hot, thick cum down his tongue.
There’s so much.
Nani takes it.
Swallows it like it’s nothing—throat working, mouth still tight around the base, one hand squeezing what won’t stop twitching. Some spills from the corners of his lips, creamy and obscene, and Sky watches, panting, in absolute disbelief.
Then—still on his knees, still flushed and cock-drunk—Nani pulls off with a wet pop.
Drags two fingers through the mess at the edge of his mouth.
Scoops it up.
And licks it clean.
“Oh fuck—” Sky gasps, head falling back, body jerking from aftershocks. “I—fuck, I’m—”
Still hard.
Somehow.
Still aching for him.
Nani’s eyes flick down, and he grins.
“Well,” he purrs, smug and glowing. “You’re full of surprises.”
Sky is shaking. He wants to touch. Needs to.
“Can I—please—”
Nani leans back onto the bed like a satisfied cat, spreading his thighs slightly, shirt falling off one shoulder. “You gonna undress me, baby?”
Sky scrambles forward, hands reverent, like he’s unwrapping something holy.
First the shirt—sliding it off slow, revealing skin that glows gold under the light. Collarbone sharp, chest lean and smooth, muscles subtle and sculpted. The little mole under his Adam’s apple makes Sky pause, then press a soft kiss there, then another.
Nani’s breath catches. “Gods, you’re such a good boy. So fucking cute.”
Sky whimpers.
He keeps going—kissing his way down, hands smoothing over his waist, hips, the sharp dip above the pelvis.
He peels down Nani’s pants slow. Kisses his thighs as he goes. And when Nani’s cock springs free—already hard, flushed deep—Sky gasps.
“You’re—fuck—you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “Every part of you. I don’t—how are you real?”
Nani laughs, breathy and dangerous. “Keep talking like that and I’ll keep letting you do whatever you want.”
Sky moans.
He kisses along Nani’s hipbones, then up his stomach, then over his chest. His hands stay gentle, careful, like Nani might vanish if he’s not worshipped just right.
And Nani?
Nani sprawls back, letting him. Smirking, flushed, eyes sharp.
“Big strong boy,” he purrs, stroking Sky’s biceps with lazy fingers. “So obedient. So good for me.”
Sky groans against his skin, hips twitching.
“You wanna make me feel good now?” Nani murmurs, voice low and wrecking.
Sky nods, desperate. “Please. Let me take care of you.”
Nani smirks, cups Sky’s jaw, presses a filthy kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Then get on your knees and show me.”
Sky drops to his knees, hands sliding up Nani’s thighs. He breathes deep—he can smell how turned on he is, how ready—and it sends a shiver down his spine.
Nani smirks, legs spread lazily. “That’s it. Be good for me.”
But then Sky moves.
Hands firm, grip confident—he wraps around Nani’s waist, and in one smooth, reverent motion, he flips him onto his stomach.
Nani gasps, surprised—but not angry.
Not even close.
He looks over his shoulder, hair messy, pupils blown. “Oh?”
Sky doesn’t answer.
He just leans in, kisses the curve of Nani’s lower back, slow and trembling. Then the dip of his spine. Then lower.
His hands slide over the swell of Nani’s ass—firm and perfect—and he spreads him, kneeling between his thighs like he’s about to pray.
And then—
He buries his face in.
Tongue first.
He moans the second he tastes him, hot and perfect. His tongue presses deep, flat and greedy, licking a slow stripe from perineum to hole, then circling there—soft at first, teasing.
Nani twitches. “S-Sky—”
Sky doesn’t stop.
Doesn’t hesitate.
He spits, mouth wet and messy, and dives in.
Tongue pressing past the tight rim, fucking him open, slow and steady and obscene. His hands grip Nani’s ass, kneading, spreading him wider. The noises are wet, shameless—Sky’s groaning into it, humping the sheets, desperate and starved.
“F-fuck,” Nani gasps, voice breaking, body squirming. “What the fuck—baby—fuck—”
Sky hums deep, the vibrations making Nani arch.
He devours him.
Licks and licks and licks, tongue curling inside, fucking him open as far as he can reach. He spreads Nani’s cheeks wider, eats like he’s drowning, like the taste is something he needs.
Nani’s thighs tremble.
His cock drips onto the sheets—thick and leaking, untouched but wrecked.
And still—still—he tries to stay in control.
“Thought—you were gonna be—obedient,” he pants, voice shaking, fingers digging into the bed. “Not—fuck—not eat me like you’re starving—”
Sky moans into him, loud and wrecked.
Then—finally—his hand slides up.
One thick finger circles that wet, twitching rim.
Then presses.
Slowly.
Deeply.
Nani gasps.
His body tightens—but Sky kisses the base of his spine, tongue still flicking at the edges, and adds a second finger almost immediately.
Two thick fingers, pressing in slow, stretching him open while Sky keeps eating him out, spit everywhere, face buried like it’s holy work.
Nani groans. Loud. Broken.
He grinds into the sheets now, cock leaving a slick mess, whole body twitching. He looks over his shoulder again, face ruined, sweat at his temples.
“You—you’re—fucking good at this—” he gasps. “So good—baby—don’t stop—fuck—”
Sky doesn’t stop.
He can’t.
His fingers scissor gently—stretching, opening—while his tongue stays right there, flicking over the edge of his fingers, deeper, messier, more.
It’s filthy.
It’s worship.
It’s Sky on his knees, hands soaked, face slick, mouth wide, fingers splitting Nani open like he’s meant to live there.
And he is.
He’s never wanted anything this much in his life.
Nani is groaning now—full-body moans, hips grinding helplessly, cock untouched and leaking as Sky’s fingers curl just right.
“Fuck—Sky—fuck—”
Sky pulls back just enough to whisper, voice wrecked, lips wet:
“You’re so tight, baby. So fucking perfect. I could do this forever.”
And Nani—moans, high and soft, thighs shaking.
Sky goes back in—licking around his own fingers, tongue joining the push, pressing deeper.
And Nani?
He’s losing control.
But not all of it.
Even fucked open, sweat-drenched, hips stuttering, Nani still twists to glance down at him—eyes blazing, lips parted—and smirks.
“Then do it,” he pants. “Show me how much you want it.”
Sky nearly comes again just from the sound.
Nani’s shaking.
His thighs twitch, spine arched, sweat dripping down his back. His cock’s flushed and leaking, untouched where it rests against the sheets, already soaked from the mess he’s made.
And Sky?
Sky’s lost.
On his knees, fingers deep, tongue flicking in and out between thrusts, spit everywhere. He spreads Nani wider, uses both hands now—one groping his perfect ass, the other pushing three, then four fingers inside, thick and slow and ruthless.
“F-fuck,” Nani gasps. “Sky—”
Sky moans against him. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he pants, voice shredded. “So fucking tight—so hot—”
He watches—really watches—as Nani’s hole stretches around his fingers, pink and slick, gripping him like it wants more.
Sky spits again. Lets it drip down, smear over his knuckles. Then moves, fucking him harder—deep and rough, curling his fingers inside until Nani cries out, hips bucking.
“You like that?” Sky growls, low and wrecked.
Nani laughs—breathless, hoarse. “Thought you were a good boy.”
“I’m whatever you want,” Sky gasps. “But you—fuck—you’re mine right now.”
He leans in and licks over the stretch, tongue flicking around his fingers as they work. He soothes the rim, then presses his tongue inside with them—wet and filthy—groaning from the taste.
Nani whines.
“God—you’re—fucking filthy,” he hisses, voice high and breaking.
Sky kisses the base of his spine, fingers still moving. “Can you come from this?” he breathes. “From my fingers? From me stretching you open?”
Nani turns his head, eyes wild. “For you?” he pants. “I can fucking try.”
Sky moans.
And then—
He goes for it.
Fucks him with everything he has—four fingers pumping deep, slick and fast, pressing hard against his prostate. The noises are wet, obscene, slapping against his skin. His thumb rubs slow teasing circles just outside, coaxing every reaction Nani has.
Nani’s cock bounces with every thrust. Dripping. Desperate.
“Oh fuck—fuck—Sky—” Nani gasps, voice raw now. “I’m gonna—”
Sky spreads him wider.
“Let me see,” he begs. “Come for me—just like this. On my fucking fingers.”
Nani screams.
He jerks, thighs clenching, whole body shuddering—and then he comes, untouched, spraying thick white onto the sheets. His back arches so hard his stomach rises off the bed, one hand clawing at the pillow, the other fisting the sheets.
And Sky—Sky watches everything.
Watches Nani’s hole pulse around his fingers, watches the way he leaks, the way he gasps, the way he shakes through it like it’s being ripped out of him.
And Sky—ruined, rock hard, desperate—groans, low and reverent.
“Fuck, baby. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Sky’s still panting.
His fingers are soaked, his sheets slick with Nani’s come, and his cock is aching, so hard it’s bobbing against his stomach, flushed deep red and pulsing.
He barely notices Nani moving—until he’s being pushed.
Firm hands on his chest, a soft grunt, and then Sky is on his back, sprawled across the bed.
Nani swings one leg over him, straddles his hips, bare skin sliding against bare skin.
Sky chokes on a breath.
Nani’s thighs cage his waist, and his cock—still dripping—rests against Sky’s stomach. His cheeks are flushed, hair wild, and yet his eyes are sharp again, gleaming.
Back in control.
“Condom?” Nani asks, voice breathless but firm.
Sky’s heart stops.
“I—uh—shit, I—don’t have any,” he stammers. “I—I don’t usually—hook up, I just—don’t—”
Nani stills.
Then tilts his head, smiling slow. “You don’t?”
Sky shakes his head, mortified. “Not—really. Ever. Not like this.”
He expects disappointment. Or worse.
But Nani just grins. Wide and pleased and smug.
“Are you clean?”
“Yes,” Sky breathes. “Tested last month. I’m—yeah. I swear.”
Nani leans down, kisses the corner of his mouth. “Me too.”
Sky’s chest heaves.
And then—
Nani grinds against him. Slow. Controlled. Cock dragging against Sky’s, slick and hot.
“I can’t believe you’ve been walking around with this monster dick and not ruining people,” Nani murmurs, eyes flicking down.
Sky’s face goes bright red.
“I—fuck—I mean, I’ve tried,” he stammers. “Once. But it—it didn’t work out. Some people—uh—don’t want to—”
Nani laughs.
Then reaches back, one hand wrapping around the base of Sky’s cock. Sky shudders, hips twitching.
Nani strokes him once, slow. Then again. Then lines him up—just barely—against his slick, still-twitching hole.
Sky groans. “N-Nani—”
And Nani?
Nani just smiles.
“God, look at it,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking big.”
He rolls his hips, teasing the tip against his rim, not taking him yet—just dragging it up and down, spreading his own slick mess over the head, circling his entrance in a slow, devastating rhythm.
Sky whimpers. “It’s—fuck—baby, it might not—fit—”
“Oh, it will,” Nani purrs.
He leans down, whispers it against Sky’s ear:
“I want it to hurt.”
Sky whines.
“I want to feel it tear me open. Want to remember it tomorrow. Want to walk funny because you wrecked me.”
“F-fuck—”
“I want all of it,” Nani breathes, licking the shell of his ear. “I want it so deep I see stars. I want to feel it in my throat.”
Sky’s hands fly to his hips, gripping hard, barely hanging on.
And Nani—still cockdrunk from earlier, but riding this high like he was born for it—grinds down, teasing that slick entrance again.
Not pushing in.
Just—hovering.
Just letting Sky feel it.
“Look at you,” he whispers, hips rolling. “You’re already falling apart and I haven’t even sat down yet.”
Sky moans.
Hard.
And Nani smirks—beautiful and deadly—and murmurs:
“Let’s see what that pretty cock can do when I finally take it.”
Sky’s not breathing.
He can’t.
Not with Nani balanced above him, thighs trembling, one hand fisted in the sheets behind him, the other braced against Sky’s chest. His slick, twitching rim is nudging against the tip of Sky’s cock—hot, wet, and so fucking tight.
Nani’s panting already. Skin flushed. Eyes glassy.
Sky groans. “You sure?” His voice cracks.
Nani doesn’t answer.
He just presses down.
The stretch is immediate. Relentless. Unforgiving.
Sky gasps as the tip pushes in—just barely—barely more than the crown, and already Nani’s breath leaves him in a high, wrecked whine.
Sky grips his hips, fingers digging in, trying not to thrust, trying to hold still as Nani sinks down onto him with agonising slowness.
“F-fuck,” Sky chokes. “You’re—so tight—Jesus—”
Nani shudders, whole body trembling, a broken sound catching in his throat.
His thighs clench around Sky’s waist, his spine arches—and still he sinks lower, inch by fucking inch.
Every centimetre swallowed feels like fire.
Sky can see it—see the way Nani’s rim stretches, the way it grips his cock so tightly he thinks he might black out. He sees the way Nani’s breathing—rapid and shallow, like every drop of him is focused on this, on taking it.
“Fuck, baby—look at you,” Sky groans, head falling back against the pillows. “Taking me so good, so fucking brave—your hole’s so greedy for it, aren’t you?”
Nani doesn’t respond.
He can’t.
His jaw is slack, eyes barely open, and he lets out a cracked, almost desperate sound as he lowers another inch—slow, trembling, the pressure unbearable.
Sky’s hands are trembling on his hips.
“You’re—Jesus, you’re splitting yourself on it,” he groans, dizzy, watching the way Nani’s body clenches and pulses.
“You’re not even halfway, baby—fuck—you’re gonna break me,” Sky moans, breathless. “And I’m gonna let you. Gonna let you ride me until you can’t walk.”
Nani makes a choked sound—half sob, half moan.
His cock’s flushed deep red, twitching against his belly, leaking so much it’s smeared across both their skin. He’s not touching himself. Doesn’t need to.
“Can’t believe you’re real,” Sky gasps, voice wrecked, one hand sliding up to stroke Nani’s side as he sinks lower. “You feel so good—so hot—like you were made for me.”
Nani’s nails dig into his chest.
Another inch.
Another broken gasp.
Sky’s head spins.
“You’re taking me so deep, fuck—I can feel you squeezing me, like your body’s trying to milk me already—shit—you’re gonna ruin me—”
Nani cries out, suddenly slamming down another thick inch, muscles fluttering around him, tight as a fist.
“Breathe, baby, breathe—”
But Nani’s not breathing—he’s whining, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, and his body is shaking now, every part of him trembling as he lowers, slow and determined.
“I’ve got you,” Sky pants. “I’ve got you, you’re so fucking strong, taking me so well—god, you’re incredible—”
He feels it when Nani’s close to bottoming out.
Feels it in the tremor of his thighs, the twitch in his abs, the desperate, broken little sound he makes as he slows, sinks those final brutal centimetres down—
Until his ass is pressed flush against Sky’s hips.
Until he’s taken every fucking inch.
Sky moans, high and sharp, brain white-hot with how good it feels, how tight and deep and perfect Nani is wrapped around him.
Nani slumps forward—forehead against Sky’s shoulder, whole body shuddering—barely able to speak, but smiling.
Sky is wrecked.
Utterly gone.
And Nani?
He just whispers, hoarse and smug:
“Told you I could take it.”
Sky isn’t sure if he’s dreaming.
Nani is fully seated in his lap, trembling, open around him—tight and pulsing, stretched to the edge and still trying to take more. His thighs are slick against Sky’s hips, his chest rising in broken gasps, nails still digging into Sky’s shoulders like he needs something to anchor him.
Sky cups his waist, reverent, hands so big around Nani’s trembling ribs.
“You okay?” he whispers.
Nani lifts his head, wrecked and shining-eyed, and he nods—just once. Then he starts to move.
Slow, at first. A subtle grind of his hips. Up barely an inch, then back down. A test. A tease.
Sky groans at the drag—how every inch feels like a velvet vice.
Nani gasps too. His head tips back, mouth falling open, a shudder running through his spine. He does it again, and again—each slow slide a little faster, a little deeper, a little hungrier.
Sky watches him fall apart—eyes glassy, mouth wet, body trembling. He’s close already, so close, just from the stretch and the way Sky fills him. His cock is flushed dark and leaking a fresh trail down his stomach. His rhythm falters, hips jerking faster now.
And that’s when Sky snaps.
He grabs Nani’s hips, slams up into him once—just once—and Nani screams, clamping down around him, nails dragging down Sky’s chest.
“F-fuck,” Sky gasps, lost to the heat, to the sound. “You feel so fucking good—so perfect—”
Nani rides him harder now—grinding, bouncing, desperate, no more control, no more smugness. Just heat. Just need.
Sky thrusts up to meet him, each one rougher than the last.
Skin slaps. Nani’s thighs tremble. The bed shakes under them.
And then Sky sees it.
A slight bulge under Nani’s navel with every thrust. Just the faintest swell—him, deep inside.
Sky freezes, stares. “Is that—?”
Nani follows his gaze. Sees it. Gasps.
“Oh my god,” he whispers, voice breaking. “That’s you.”
Sky thrusts again—slow, deep—and the bulge shows up again.
Nani cries out.
Sky loses it.
“Fucking look at that, baby,” he pants. “I’m so deep—you’re taking me so fucking deep—god, you’re perfect—made for this—”
Nani is sobbing now, whispering filth between choked gasps.
“Never—never felt this before—never been so full, so wrecked, it’s—fuck, Sky—”
Sky presses a hand to the bulge in Nani’s stomach, thumb gentle.
Nani screams, and his cock twitches violently against his stomach.
“You’re close,” Sky breathes, stunned. “Already?”
“Can’t help it—” Nani moans, body rocking, overwhelmed. “You’re ruining me—gonna come, fuck, Sky—no one’s ever—no one—”
Sky’s heart twists.
Because he feels it too.
This isn’t just a hookup. It can’t be. It feels like something snapping into place, like the universe carved out this night for them, like Nani was meant to end up in his arms, trembling, sobbing, clinging to him like Sky’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
Sky presses their foreheads together. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, broken. “You feel like—like everything.”
Nani whimpers—“I know—me too—me too—don’t stop, please—don’t ever stop—”
And Sky doesn’t.
Nani’s falling apart.
He’s riding Sky like he needs it to breathe—hips snapping, thighs shaking, sobs punching out of his chest every time Sky drives up into him. His cock is untouched and yet leaking, flushed and so fucking hard again.
Sky grips his waist, driving up harder now, faster, until Nani’s cries blur into each other, messy and helpless.
“I—I’m gonna—fuck—again—”
And then he does.
Nani screams, and Sky catches him, arms wrapping tight as his body locks up, as his cock pulses untouched between them, streaking both their stomachs in heat.
Sky swears, dizzy with the sight of it—the feel of Nani clenching down, his whole body twitching around him, tight enough to steal Sky’s breath.
“You were built for me,” he groans, dragging a kiss along Nani’s throat. “Fucking made for me, ‘Ni…”
And Nani, too far gone to speak, just lets out a broken sob and melts against him.
Sky rolls.
A slow shift of weight—grabs the back of Nani’s thigh, flips them until Nani is beneath him. Spread out. Shaking. Wrecked.
But still reaching.
Sky looks down—at tear-glossed eyes, parted lips, flushed cheeks.
He leans in and kisses him.
Not just a filthy collision, not just messy mouths. This one is different—deep and lingering, Sky’s hand cupping his jaw like it’s precious.
Like he’s afraid he’ll lose it.
Nani kisses back with the same ache, the same need, and Sky feels it in his bones.
He starts to move again. Slower now. Deeper.
Every thrust presses against Nani’s prostate, every slide punches out another desperate sound, another tremble. Nani’s body arches, his legs spreading wider.
Sky lifts them—hooks them over his shoulders, lets his hips sink forward until Nani is open, so open, and he’s buried completely inside again.
It’s not frantic now. It’s something else.
Something worse.
Sky kisses him between thrusts—his cheek, his temple, the mole under his Adam’s apple.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “You’re mine. You’re so mine.”
And Nani?
Nani stares up at him—eyes blown wide, glassy, soft.
Like he sees Sky’s soul and isn’t afraid of it.
Sky slows his hips—grinding in deep, dragging over that swollen spot inside with every inch.
Nani whimpers, claws at his back.
“You feel like home,” Sky breathes. “Like I’ve been waiting for you.”
And Nani whispers it back:
“So have I.”
Sky breaks.
Right there, in Nani’s arms, inside his body, inside his heart, he shatters.
Sky’s hips roll deep—slow, steady, perfect, dragging across that swollen bundle of nerves inside Nani over and over until Nani is twitching again, panting, a soft wreck beneath him.
“C-can’t,” Nani whimpers, voice thin and ruined. “I—fuck, I can’t again—”
Sky kisses his temple, his cheek, his jaw. “You can,” he whispers. “You’re doing so good. Let me have it, baby. Let me feel you come again.”
Nani moans, high and broken, and wraps his arms tighter around Sky’s neck. His legs are hooked high over Sky’s shoulders, spreading him open, bent nearly in half beneath Sky’s weight—and he wants it, even now, even wrecked and flushed and trembling. He wants all of it.
Sky’s sweat drips down his spine. His cock pulses inside Nani, thick and full, dragging in slow, perfectly angled thrusts that make Nani’s breath catch every time.
“Fuck—you’re still gripping me so tight,” Sky groans. “Even after everything—your body just won’t let me go.”
“D-don’t want to,” Nani gasps, voice shaking. “Don’t want you to—ever—”
Sky slows the next thrust—buries deep and holds it, letting Nani feel all of him.
“You feel me, ‘Ni?” he whispers. “All the way inside? Where I belong?”
Nani’s nails rake down his back. He nods—once, hard, desperate—and sobs:
“Please—please, Sky—want to come again—need to—please—”
Sky’s heart splinters.
He kisses Nani’s mouth, messy and deep, and starts moving again—slow, hard, grinding thrusts that push both of them to the edge.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “You’re doing so good. So beautiful. Come for me, baby—come for me again.”
And Nani does.
With a shattered, high cry, his body locks up—thighs trembling, cock untouched as it jerks against his stomach, spilling again in hot, helpless pulses between them. His whole body shudders, back arching, mouth open in a soundless moan.
Sky loses it.
The way Nani clenches around him—fists around his cock, spasming through his orgasm—it tears Sky apart.
He slams in once, twice—deep—then groans, full-body and wrecked, as he comes inside him, hot and overwhelming and endless, his fingers gripping Nani’s hips like they’re the only solid thing in the world.
They’re both panting now, sweaty and shaking, bodies tangled and pressed together, still joined.
Nani’s lips brush Sky’s jaw, soft.
Sky buries his face in Nani’s neck.
Everything is quiet except for their breath.
Like the sea has gone still.
Sky stays inside Nani for as long as he can.
Even after the tremors stop. Even after the moans fade into breathless, shaky silence. Even after Nani’s body melts beneath him like something unraveled, undone.
He stays.
Because it feels right—his body wrapped around Nani’s, heart still galloping, lips pressed to damp temple. His fingers are still trembling where they cradle Nani’s thighs, where they brush back strands of sweat-damp hair.
Eventually, he has to move.
He kisses Nani’s shoulder, soft and careful, and slowly—gently—pulls out.
Nani lets out a broken, quiet whimper.
And Sky watches.
Watches his own come slide out of Nani’s body—thick and messy, slicking down his thighs, soaking the sheets. Watches Nani shiver, wrecked and pliant, chest rising and falling in little stuttering breaths.
“Hey,” Sky whispers, smoothing his hands over Nani’s hips. “You okay?”
Nani nods, eyes closed.
Sky brushes a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Let me take care of you.”
Nani doesn’t resist.
Sky gathers him close—both arms around his waist—and lifts him. Nani lets out a soft noise of protest, but melts into him, head tucked against Sky’s shoulder, arms loose around his neck.
Sky carries him to the bathroom.
The tiles are cold, the air still damp from earlier showers, and Sky doesn’t even think. He steps into the shower still holding him, one arm supporting Nani’s back, the other keeping him upright as he reaches for the faucet.
The water comes warm. Soothing.
Sky lowers them both slowly—sets Nani down carefully onto the little bench in the corner, but Nani’s legs are shaking, too unsteady to hold his own weight.
So Sky just…holds him.
Stands with the water running over both of them, arms wrapped around Nani’s slighter frame, letting the heat soak into their skin. Nani leans into him like he belongs there—bare skin against bare chest, spine pressed to Sky’s front.
Sky can’t stop touching him.
He runs soft fingers through Nani’s damp hair, tips his head back to rinse it clean, murmurs quiet praise into his ear with every pass.
“You did so good for me.”
“You’re so perfect, ‘Ni.”
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Nani says nothing—but he leans into every touch. Every kiss. Every word.
When Sky gently eases him forward to clean between his legs—fingers slow and reverent, wiping away the mess, easing slickness and come from where he’s still sore—Nani shudders, a quiet whimper escaping him.
Sky kisses the back of his neck. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know. I’m sorry, I’m being gentle.”
Nani doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t pull away.
Just exhales. Like he trusts Sky to hold him together.
Sky turns him around after, lathers shampoo into Nani’s hair, massages it in soft circles until Nani’s eyes flutter closed. He rinses him slowly. Kisses his temple again.
Every part of him—his lean frame, his flushed skin, his still-trembling hands—Sky worships all over again, in the simplest, softest way.
And beneath the silence of the water, beneath Nani’s slow breathing and Sky’s steady hands—something shifts.
Something real.
Sky doesn’t name it.
He just pulls Nani into his arms again. Lets the water run down both their backs. Holds him there until Nani melts fully against his chest.
Until all that’s left is quiet.
And trust.
He dries Nani off like he’s fragile.
Not because he thinks he is—Nani has never been anything but fire, steel, and wicked control—but because…he wants to. Because Nani let him see the soft underneath, let him hold it, touch it, be with it.
So Sky is gentle now. Towel around his waist, slow hands through his still-damp hair. Careful with the little things.
Nani sits on the edge of the bed, eyes lidded, letting himself be handled. Sky towels his legs dry. Kneels to press a kiss just above one bruised knee.
“I have a shirt for you,” he murmurs, suddenly bashful.
Nani hums. “You trying to dress me now?”
Sky grins. “Trying to claim you a little, maybe.”
That earns him a soft, breathy laugh.
Sky pulls one of his favourite cotton shirts over Nani’s head—big enough to fall down past his thighs, sleeves almost comically long on Nani’s leaner frame. It swallows him. He’s never looked better.
And maybe Sky should be used to Nani’s beauty by now, but he’s not.
He stares for a long moment before gently easing Nani back onto the bed.
The sheets are cool. The lights are low. Everything is soft now—muted and quiet, like the crash of the waves has faded into a slow tide.
They lie together, bodies close but not tangled. Sky touches Nani’s arm like it’s made of something rare. Nani’s fingers drift over his chest like he’s counting ribs, like he’s memorising each breath.
They kiss—but it’s not hungry this time. Not frantic.
It’s slow.
Mouths brushing. Breath curling. A whisper of want.
It feels like… more.
Sky noses against his cheek. “You okay?”
Nani nods, eyes flicking open. There’s a spark there again. A flicker of familiar sass.
“You gonna cook me breakfast?” he murmurs.
Sky’s heart trips.
“I’d cook you breakfast for the rest of my life.”
Nani blinks.
Then grins. “That was fast.”
Sky flushes—because yeah, okay, maybe it was. But it’s true. It’s terrifying how true it is.
“I mean,” he mumbles, “if you wanted. I just… you’re…”
“Sky,” Nani interrupts, still smiling. “It’s cute. Don’t ruin it.”
Sky groans and covers his face.
Nani laughs. Shifts closer. Slides a hand under Sky’s shirt, resting against the beat of his heart.
They stay like that for a long moment. Just breathe.
Then—
Sky exhales, soft and nervous. “Do you want to go out with me sometime?”
Nani tilts his head.
“We just fucked and you came inside me like you were trying to impregnate me and now you’re asking me out?”
Sky shrinks a little. “I… yeah?”
A pause.
Nani leans in. Kisses his chin.
“Good,” he says. “I was gonna ask you first.”
Sky’s laugh comes out strangled with relief.
“I’m not letting you go anywhere,” he adds, quietly, pressing a hand to Nani’s back like he’s afraid he’ll vanish.
Nani settles into him. Arms looping around his waist. His forehead tucked into Sky’s throat.
“You’re not gonna have to.”
Morning comes gentle.
Golden light bleeding in through gauzy curtains. The soft hum of the sea still lingering in Sky’s bones, even now, even here—miles away from the boat, from the music, from the heat of the night.
Nani’s still asleep when Sky slips out of bed. One arm curled under his cheek, the other stretched toward the empty space Sky just vacated. He’s in Sky’s shirt, curled in it like it belongs to him. And maybe it does now.
Sky doesn’t think about it too hard. Just leans down, kisses his temple, and pads into the kitchen.
It’s quiet.
Sky moves quietly around the kitchen, shirtless, barefoot, careful with the eggs like they might somehow shatter the spell. Like if he’s too loud, Nani might disappear.
He hears the sound of feet dragging against the floor before he sees him.
Then—
There he is.
Perched in the doorway in Sky’s oversized shirt, sleeves hanging past his elbows, collar slipping off one shoulder. Hair a mess. Eyes still half-lidded with sleep.
Sky swears his heart skips something.
“You cook shirtless for everyone who ends up in your bed?” Nani says, voice still scratchy.
Sky blushes instantly. “You’re not—” He fumbles. “I mean, this isn’t like—fuck.”
Nani smirks, climbing up onto the counter with all the grace of a smug, lazy cat. “Relax. I know.”
He’s close now. Legs swinging slightly. Looking at Sky like he already knows what he’s going to say before he says it.
And Sky just… exhales.
“Didn’t think I’d ever meet someone like you,” he mumbles. “Didn’t think I even wanted to. And now you’re just… here. In my shirt. On my counter.”
“Is that a problem?” Nani teases, one brow raised.
“No,” Sky says softly. “It feels like I’ve been waiting for it.”
Nani stills. Just for a beat. Something flickers in his eyes—something softer, something knowing.
Sky steps between his legs, resting his hands on Nani’s thighs. It’s easy now, the closeness. Like they’ve always fit this way.
“You sore?” he asks, low and gentle.
Nani hums. “Little bit.”
Sky kisses his cheek, then his shoulder. “I’ll look after you.”
Nani hooks a lazy arm around his neck, pulling him in. “You already are.”
Sky hides a shy smile into his skin. He still can’t believe this is real.
Nani watches him like he’s trying to memorise every blink. Every blush.
“This wasn’t a one-time thing,” he says quietly, just in case Sky’s still wondering. “Whatever this is… it’s not small.”
Sky meets his eyes.
“It feels like I finally found what I didn’t even know I was missing.”
Nani’s expression cracks, just a little. Something raw and warm beneath the teasing. He reaches up, brushes Sky’s hair off his forehead.
And smiles.
“Yeah,” he says. “Same.”
Sky leans in, kisses him slow—like a thank you, like a promise. Nani kisses him right back.
They stay like that for a while. Breathing the same air. Letting something new, something real, take root in the quiet.