The roar of the engines outside was like a pack of wolves circling their prey. Kaede wasn't playing around anymore. She had brought the Superintendent's heavy hitters, and they were boxing in the safe house with a cold, calculated efficiency. But inside the room, the air was vibrating with a different kind of energy. It was a mixture of adrenaline, post-climax haze, and a over-protective instinct that made the walls feel like they were sweating.
Daisetsu stood by the window, his muscular chest rising and falling in heavy, jagged breaths. He was a Violent Fugitive now, but looking at him, he looked more like a god of war. He hadn't even put his shirt back on. The soot from the fire was smeared across his abs, and the dark, purple mark he had left on Yasuo's neck was mirrored by the raw, red scratches Yasuo had left on his back during their extreme physical payoff.
"They think they can just take what's mine," Daisetsu rasped, his voice a gravelly growl that sent shivers down Yasuo's spine.
Yasuo stood up, his legs still a bit wobbly from the mega heat they had just shared. He didn't feel like the shy cat anymore. He felt fierce. He grabbed his phone and started backing up the files of his secret project—the evidence against the Superintendent.
"We're not going down without a fight, Daisetsu," Yasuo said, his voice surprisingly steady.
Daisetsu turned, his fierce eyes softening for just a split second as he looked at his Cutie Boy. He walked over, his heavy boots thumping on the floor, and pulled Yasuo into a possessive embrace. He didn't care about the sirens or the flickering headlights outside. He needed one more taste of the home he was fighting for.
He crashed his mouth onto Yasuo's again, but this time it wasn't just passion—it was a territorial promise. His hands were bruising as they gripped Yasuo's waist, pulling him flush against his tough, muscular body. The physical touch was so thick it felt like it could stop a bullet.
"If they get through that door," Daisetsu breathed against his lips, "you run. You take that evidence and you make them pay. You hear me?"
"No," Yasuo whispered, his fingers digging into the Wounded Soul's scarred shoulders. "We go together. You remember?"
Daisetsu let out a low, dark chuckle. He loved the savage edge in Yasuo's voice. He leaned down, his mouth tracing the mark on Yasuo's neck, his tongue swirling over the bruised skin in a way that made Yasuo gasp and arch his back. Even with an army outside, the exact heat between them was a fire that couldn't be put out.
Daisetsu's hand slid down, his thumb hooking into the waistband of Yasuo's pants, pulling him closer until there was no air between them. He wanted to claim him one last time before the world exploded. He pushed Yasuo against the heavy wooden door of the safe house, his muscular chest pinning the smaller boy.
The physical payoff was fast and frantic. Daisetsu didn't have time for a slow burn. He needed to feel Yasuo's passionate heartbeat against his own. He entered Yasuo with a heavy, rhythmic force, his thrusts echoing the pounding of the men outside trying to break the locks.
Yasuo's head hit the door with every wow movement, his moans muffled by Daisetsu's hand over his mouth. He was blushing fiercely, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and extreme pleasure. This was their last stand, a primal bond forged in the middle of a disaster. Daisetsu bit Yasuo's earlobe, his breath hot as he whispered that no matter what happened, Yasuo was his.
The climax hit them both like a physical blow just as the first window shattered. Yasuo's body shuddered, his climax spilling between them as Daisetsu groaned, his wounded soul finally finding peace in the middle of the chaos.
They barely had time to breathe before the front door groaned under a heavy kick.
Daisetsu stepped back, his face turning into a mask of metallic stone. He grabbed the heavy metal pipe, his muscles rippling as he prepared to become the "Iron-Fist" one last time.
"Get behind the counter, Yasuo!" Daisetsu roared.
The door burst open. Three men in black suits charged in, their faces twisted with malicious intent. But they weren't expecting a half-naked, savage warrior who had nothing left to lose.
Daisetsu moved like lightning. He swung the pipe, a heavy force that sent the first man flying back into the hallway. He was a Stoic Protector in his purest form, a savage beast protecting his mate.
Across the street, Kaede watched from her car, her eyes wide with jealousy and horror. She saw the Iron-Fist fighting like a man possessed, and she saw Yasuo in the background, clutching a tablet like a shield.
"He's not a teacher," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He's a monster."
But to Yasuo, watching the man he loved tear through the Superintendent's goons, Daisetsu wasn't a monster. He was a hero. And as the police sirens grew louder, Yasuo realized that the status quo was gone forever. They weren't just running anymore.
They were winning.