The luxury hotel room Tenshin booked for them felt like a different planet. After the dust, the smoke of the bakery fire, and the cold concrete of the safe house, the plush carpets and golden lights were almost too much. But as soon as the door clicked shut, the high-stakes drama of the district hall faded. The Stoic Protector and his Cutie Boy were finally, truly alone.
Daisetsu didn't even wait to turn on the main lights. He tossed the keys onto the marble counter and turned to Yasuo. In the dim glow of the city skyline through the window, Daisetsu looked like a savage king reclaiming his throne. His black shirt was unbuttoned halfway, showing the tough, muscular chest that had shielded Yasuo from a literal explosion.
"You're shaking again," Daisetsu rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated in the quiet room.
"It's just... the adrenaline is leaving," Yasuo whispered, though they both knew that wasn't the only reason. He was "blushing slowly, his eyes fixed on the dark, purple mark on his own neck reflected in the mirror—the territorial promise that had survived the battle.
Daisetsu walked over, his heavy footsteps silent on the rug. He didn't just stand near Yasuo; he boxed him in against the floor-to-ceiling window. The physical touch was a mega heat, thicker than any fire.
"The war is over for tonight, Yasuo," Daisetsu breathed, his hand sliding into Yasuo's hair, pulling his head back gently to expose his throat. "Now, I just want to forget everything but this."
The physical payoff was instant and extreme. Daisetsu's mouth crashed onto Yasuo's with a admiration hunger that made Yasuo's knees buckle. There was no more avoidance, no more shame. Yasuo wrapped his arms around the Wounded Soul's broad shoulders, his fingers mapping out the scarred skin he had come to love.
Daisetsu lifted him effortlessly, Yasuo's legs wrapping around his waist as he carried him to the massive king-sized bed. This wasn't the frantic desperation of the safe house; this was a slow burn that had finally reached its melting point. Daisetsu stripped off his shirt, his muscular body glowing in the moonlight. He looked savage, possessive, and completely obsessed.
He entered Yasuo with a heavy, rhythmic force, but this time it was deep and steady, a shared focus that made the world outside disappear. Yasuo's voice was raw as he moaned Daisetsu's name, his passionate nature taking over as he arched his back, seeking more of that extreme heat.
Daisetsu leaned down, his teeth grazing the mark he'd left before. He bit down softly, a territorial reminder that even if the bakery was gone, Yasuo's home was right here, in his arms. The very heat between them built until it was a lightning strike of pleasure, leaving them both breathless and tangled in the silk sheets.
As the city lights twinkled below, Daisetsu held Yasuo close, his chin resting on the boy's head. For the first time, the Stoic Protector looked at peace.
"We're going to rebuild, Yasuo," Daisetsu whispered into the dark. "A new shop. A new start. No more hiding."
Yasuo smiled, his heart full. "As long as you're there to flirt with me, I don't care where we are."