Chapter 6

Three weeks had passed since that agreement, and somehow everything between us had settled into this strange, addictive rhythm. We had just finished—still breathless, bodies warm, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner. I was lying back on the bed, trying to steady my heartbeat, while he sat at the edge, head lowered, catching his breath.

Then his phone rang.

He shot up immediately. It wasn’t a normal reaction—it was sharp, almost instinctive, like a soldier snapping to attention. He didn’t even bother reaching for his clothes; he simply stood, skin still flushed, and grabbed his phone from the drawer as if the call was something he couldn’t afford to miss. I watched his back tense, the muscles shifting under his skin as he checked the caller ID. His jaw tightened. Whatever it was, it wasn’t something casual.

Farvo turned toward the bathroom, already raising the phone to his ear. He was halfway through his first step when I lifted my hand slightly—just a simple gesture telling him to stay.

He froze.

His eyes flicked back to me, confusion shadowing his expression as he continued listening to whoever was on the other line. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel his attention split between the urgency of the call and the silent pull I had on him.

Without breaking eye contact, I slid off the bed. The sheets shifted behind me as I walked toward the chair near the foot of the bed, the one he always tossed his clothes on. I pulled it closer, letting the legs scrape softly against the floor, and then sat down with a calmness that was anything but innocent.

I crossed my legs slowly, leaning back slightly, my gaze fixed on him with a quiet challenge. His breath caught and I saw it. Even through the phone conversation, the distraction hit him instantly.

That was when I began my teasing subtle, intentional, designed to pull him back to me. And despite whoever was on the phone—it was clear he was already losing the battle.

“Round five,” he said while smirking.

I just look at him and ignore him then start touching my own body with poking and taunting my chest,I saw the more fire in his eyes as I just starting touching my legs.

“Damn!So wet! Who are you thinking?” He said and even start to stand up to go to me when I told him to stay in the bed but my warning was just nothing but a joke to him so I stop what I'm doing and made him taste me through licking my finger I used.

“So wet,let me eat you,” Farvo tease and about to grab my legs when I stopped him. He hissed and I felt his irritation, “what? You love that right?”

I shook my head as grab his ear gently, “we’re doing new experience today,” I said sexually before licking his ear.

I instruct him to sit where I sat earlier and wait me, I went to my drawer to grab what I just brought yesterday. I threw two different handscuffs and a blindfold then I saw his eyes enlarged and amused.

“W-what was that for?” he stammered that make me eagerly to start this as my fantasies running so fast.

I walk to his back and start his shoulder as I kiss his neck, start to distracting him to put the his handcuffs.

Then when I'm finished I face him as play his abs while start teasing his. I heard him groaned as kneel in front on him and look but instead of playing his body,I played mine.

“Miss!” I look at him groaned like his been pain in trying remove himself to touch me so I put my chest on his mouth and remove it quickly like just playing with him.

My moans start as I get faster with myself while watching his reaction when I get cum and put it in his mouth.

“More,” he begged—his voice low, strained, almost desperate.

But instead of giving in, I ignored him completely and stood up, letting him deal with the frustration twisting through his expression. His hands dropped helplessly to his sides, his breathing uneven as he watched me walk across the room.

He probably expected I’d grab something small, something harmless.

But no and I pulled out the biggest mirror I owned.

His eyebrows shot up.

“Seriously?” he whispered, half-amused, half-terrified of what I was planning.

I set the mirror right in front of him, angling it perfectly. Then I climbed onto the bed with slow, exaggerated intent. I didn’t even have to say anything,his eyes followed every tiny movement, as if he was scared to blink and miss something.

“I’m enjoying your reaction,” I murmured, voice deliberately light, almost teasing.

He inhaled sharply when I lifted one leg and placed it gently on his shoulder. That single gesture made him let out a groan,one he couldn’t disguise even if he tried. His grip tightened on the sheets, his eyes flicking between me and our reflection, clearly torn between overload.

For a moment, I reveled in it.

In the power. In the way the air felt charged and electric between us. In the way he looked at me like I was something he could barely handle.

I was fully immersed in the moment—until something strange interrupted the mood.

At first it was faint, almost ignorable.

I frowned.

He didn’t notice at all, too consumed with everything else. But I leaned back slightly, sniffing again, my expression changing as the scent grew stronger. It wasn’t perfume. It wasn’t a candle. And it definitely wasn’t anything that should be in our room.

Burning.Something burning.

I blinked, processing the slow horror building in my chest.

“Do you smell that?” I asked.

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in, leaning away from the mirror to sniff the air. His eyes widened instantly.

“Oh hell no—don’t tell me—,” he muttered.

But we both knew.

The smell wasn’t imagined.

It was smoke.

From outside.From the hallway.From——.

We stared at each other for half a second, frozen, both realizing the same thing.

This was not the time for our play.

For a moment, both of us just stared at each other wide eyed, still breathless, still very much not wearing a single piece of clothing, and Farvo in cuffs.

Not exactly the ideal condition for responding to a possible emergency.

The smoke smell grew sharper.

He shifted, tugging on the cuffs. “Uh… Miss,” he said, voice tight with panic, “not to ruin the mood or anything, but I’m literally restrained right now, and there might be an actual fire.”

“That’s why I’m trying to figure out if this is real,” I hissed back, sniffing the air again.

It was real.Too real.

A faint alarm started beeping in the hallway far away at first, then louder, multiplying as another alarm went off. And another.

Farvo’s eyes widened in pure dread.

“We’re going to die naked,” he whispered.

“Worse,” I replied, “you’re going to die handcuffed. Imagine the firefighters’ faces.”

He groaned again but this time not from pleasure, but existential suffering.

I scrambled off the bed, looking around frantically. “The keys! Where did you put the keys?!”

“You threw them,” he reminded me helplessly. “Like—dramatically. You said, ‘We won’t be needing those tonight.’”

My soul left my body.

I scanned the floor like a lunatic, checking under pillows, under the bed, under the chair I had dragged earlier. Nothing.

The hallway alarm blared louder.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, feeling my chest tighten. “This is not happening. Not right now.”

“Miss,” Farvo said through clenched teeth, one eye twitching, “I swear if you don’t find those keys, I will walk into that hallway as is, cuffs and all. I don’t care anymore.”

“You can’t even open the door!” I shot back.

He groaned louder, writhing like a miserable worm on the bed.

“This is karma,” he muttered. “This is literally karma for having a good night.”

“Stop complaining!” I snapped, now on my knees digging through the pile of clothes we had thrown everywhere earlier.

He lifted his cuffed hands pathetically. “With what? Telekinesis?!”

I ignored the urge to throw a pillow at him.

Then finally, I spotted something glinting under the bedside table. I dove for it like an Olympic athlete and snatched it up.

“The keys!” I yelled triumphantly.

“Unlock me, unlock me, unlock me—,” he chanted like a desperate cult.

I rushed over, fumbling with the lock as my hands shook not from teasing this time, but pure adrenaline. The hallway alarm was so loud now it felt like it was inside our skulls.

The cuffs clicked open.

Farvo exhaled with the relief of a man who just escaped certain humiliation.

“Thank you,” he breathed, immediately grabbing his face with his newly freed hands. “Now clothes—clothes, clothes, where are my clothes—”

“In the floor tornado,” I answered.

We both dove for our scattered clothes, bumping into each other, tripping over the mirror, and accidentally stepping on the pile of sheets like two gremlins in crisis.

More smoke seeped in under the door.

My heart started hammering.

“This is bad,” I whispered.

“No,” Farvo corrected, half dressed, hair sticking up in chaos, “this is worse than bad. This is a nightmare.”

He tossed me one of his shirts backwards, oversized, the first thing he grabbed. “Just wear that, we don’t have time!”

“But—”

“Miss, we are not walking out there naked! Put it on!”

So I threw it over my head, not even caring if it was inside out.

Finally half-presentable, we sprinted for the door with both of us messy, rattled, adrenaline-fueled, and absolutely not in the state any sane person should be in during a fire evacuation.

He reached for the doorknob.

I grabbed his arm.

“Wait.”

He turned to me, panicked. “What now?!”

“We didn’t take off the mirror.” He blinked.

We looked back at the giant mirror still standing perfectly in front of the bed reflecting the absolute chaos we just created.

“We’re never speaking of this again,” he said.

“Agreed.”

Then he opened the door and the smoke from the hallway rushed in.

The hallway was a mess of gray smoke, blinking red emergency lights, and distant yelling. It wasn’t thick enough to choke on, but enough to sting the eyes and make everything look like a low budget apocalypse movie.

We stepped out me drowning in his oversized shirt, him with his hair in full electric-shock mode. His belt wasn’t even done right. One loop was empty. One sock was missing.

We looked like we sprinted out of a fever dream.

And of course, my neighbor down the hall, the one who always judged us with her eyebrows, chose this exact moment to open her door, clutching her tiny dog like it was her firstborn.

She took one look at us—sweaty, chaotic, half-dressed, panting and her eyes widened so much I swear her soul left her body.

I forced a polite smile.

“Good evening,” I choked out.

“It’s 2 A.M.,” she replied, scandalized.

Farvo muttered, “Ma’am, we’re aware,” then grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward before she could ask questions.

We hurried toward the stairs, coughing lightly as more alarms echoed through the building. Our footsteps slapped loudly on the concrete, creating a rhythm of absolute panic.

Halfway down the second flight, Farvo looked at me, breathless.

“This is literally the worst timing imaginable.”

I gasped in disbelief. “The worst?! Farvo, we were inches away from—”

“I know!” he cut in, throwing his hands up. “We were having a moment! A legendary moment! A bookmark-worthy moment!”

“And then the universe said no.”

“It didn’t just say no,” he huffed, nearly tripping. “It said, ‘let me personally slap both of you with smoke and humiliation.’”

I snorted despite myself, one hand pressed to my chest as we descended another flight. “You should’ve seen your face when you realized you were still in cuffs.”

“Excuse me,” he said, offended and breathless, “you left me in cuffs! I was about to walk out there looking like a rejected escape artist!”

“And whose fault was that?” I shot back.

“You threw the key!”

“ That’s because you said—”

“Don’t say it,” he warned, voice sharp. “Do not repeat the line and remember the handcuffs was your idea, Miss.”

I grinned. “We won’t be arguing those—”

“STOP.” He covered his ears dramatically as we reached the landing. “I’m already traumatized.”

We kept moving, passing another neighbor who stared at us so long it became an Olympic level achievement in judgment. Even their cat looked offended.

I groaned into my hands. “I swear, once this is over, I am finishing what we started.”

“Miss—”

“I don’t care,” I snapped, eyes fiery in the emergency lights. “I was spiritually invested. I was emotionally invested. I was—”

“A fire hazard?” he deadpanned.

I opened my mouth, closed it, then pointed a finger at me. “Too soon.”

I laughed again, which made him glare harder, which only made me laugh more.

We finally pushed through the last door leading to the ground floor, only to find half the tenants crowded outside, staring at the smoke drifting out of one of the ground units.

The burnt smell grew stronger.

A firefighter stepped out of the affected unit holding a toaster.

“It overheated,” he announced. “Small appliance fire. Under control now.”

Farvo blinked.

Then turned to me with the face of a man whose soul had disintegrated.

“A TOASTER?” he shouted in pure betrayal. “I lost my dignity because of a TOASTER?!”

The entire lobby turned to stare at him.

I placed a hand on his back, whispering, “Lower your voice.”

“No,” he declared. “No, I will not lower my voice. I was handcuffed. I was naked. I was—”

“Sir,” the firefighter said carefully, “are you alright?”

“No,” he answered honestly, shoulders falling. “No, I’m not.”

I tugged him toward the exit before he could confess our entire evening to the emergency responders.

As we stepped outside into the cold early-morning air, I let out the deepest, most dramatic sigh of my life. “Farvo,” I said quietly, “I need you to know something.”

“What?”

I met hie eyes.

“I am never buying a toaster again.”

Farvo stared at me like I had personally offended every kitchen appliance on Earth.

“You’re blaming the toaster?” he asked, hand dramatically pressed to his chest. “THE TOASTER?!”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “Because clearly it started this entire chain reaction of—”

I waved my hand around the cold parking lot, “humiliation, panic running, and you screaming at a firefighter.”

He opened his mouth, ready to argue.

Then he closed it, sighed heavily, and muttered.

“Okay, maybe the toaster is the enemy.”

Before I could reply, the building security guard approached us with a clipboard.The clipboard.The weapon of bureaucracy.

“Sir, Ma’am,” he greeted cautiously. “We’re doing a headcount for the evacuated residents. Can I get your unit number?”

Farvo ran a shaky hand through his chaotic hair. “Yeah, uh Unit 18B.”

The guard looked up. Looked at our clothes.Or the lack thereof. Then looked back at his list.

“Were you two,” he asked slowly, “sleeping?”

We stared at him.

Then stared at each other.

Then back at him.

“Yeah,” I answered weakly. “Let’s call it that.”

Farvo choked.

The guard nodded professionally, but his eyes were absolutely judging. “Alright. Please wait with the others while we confirm the building is safe.”

We walked away stiffly and joined the cluster of people standing near the curb. Everyone was wrapped in blankets, pajamas, robes like normal evacuation outfits.

And then there was us.

Him in mismatched clothes, hair like he got electrocuted.Me wearing his giant shirt with no pants and no underwears. We stood out like two unpaid extras in a disaster movie.

Our neighbor with the tiny dog walked past. She took one look at us and whispered loudly to the person beside her.

“I knew they were the noisy ones.”

My jaw dropped. “Noisy?! Ma’am, it wasn’t even—!”

Farvo grabbed my shoulders. “Don’t. Don’t engage. We are not fighting a grandmother holding a chihuahua.”

I inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. Mature, responsible adult behavior.

Then one of the firefighters approached us again.

“Are you both sure you're okay?” he asked. “You look… shaken.”

Farvo answered honestly, “We were in the middle of something important.”

The firefighter blinked. “Like sleeping?”

“We’re sticking with that,” I cut in quickly. “Yes. Sleeping. Very deeply.”

The firefighter looked unconvinced but nodded anyway and walked off.

Farvo leaned closer to me, whispering, “You know what’s crazy?”

“What?”

“We were THIS close,” he said, holding his finger and thumb a millimeter apart, “to a top tier, unforgettable session then only for a toaster to interrupt us.”

“And smoke,” I added.

“And your dramatic mirror setup,” he continued, pointing at me like I was the real culprit.

“HEY,” I protested. “You liked the mirror.”

“No comment.”

I shoved him lightly. He stumbled, caught his balance, then gave me a crooked grin.

“Farvo,” I said, voice dropping into a mix of frustration and lingering desire, “I swear, when we get back inside, doors locked, alarms off, and no appliances trying to murder us—”

“Miss,” Farvo warned.

“I am finishing everything we started,” I finished defiantly, arms crossed.

He looked me dead in the eyes. “Damn of you to assume we won’t be traumatized by toaster smell for the next week.”

I groaned loudly, throwing my head back. “WHYYYY did it have to be a toaster?! Why not something cool, like a lightning strike? Or a dramatic short circuit? Or—”

“A dragon,” He suggested.

“Yes. A dragon,” I agreed passionately. “A dragon would’ve been an acceptable interruption.”

We fell silent when the head firefighter stepped out and spoke through a megaphone.

“Attention everyone! The fire is under control. You may return to your units.”

People clapped. Cheered. Sighed in relief.

Farvo clapped too once.Then leaned close to him and murmured in a low, vengeful voice.

“I’m unplugging every appliance we own.”

He snorted. “Good. Especially the toaster.”

“That demon stays in the trash,” he declared like a man announcing war.

We walked back through the lobby, past the same neighbors giving us side-eyes. Farvo stood straighter, trying to look dignified despite still missing one sock.

When we reached the elevator, he pressed the button confidently.

Then I looked down at him and whispered.

“…So, uh… do we continue where we left—”

“No,” he said before I could finish.

I blinked. “Why not?!”

“Because,” Farvo said calmly, “I’m still traumatized.”

“BUT I’M NOT,” I argued.

“You screamed at a firefighter.”

“That was valid emotional expression!”

The elevator dinged open.

We stepped inside.

And as the doors closed, I muttered under my breath.

“This better not be a sign that the universe hates my romantic plans.”

He smiled, “Oh, it definitely does.”