North's hand shot out, fingers closing around Johan's wrist with a strength born of pure panic.

Without a word, he turned and pulled, dragging the larger man behind him.

Johan offered no resistance, his compliance somehow more unnerving than a struggle would have been.

He moved like a tidal wave allowing itself to be guided by a child, his power a silent, humbling constant.

North didn't stop until they were outside, the crisp morning air a slap after the cloying perfume indoors.

They stood on the sweeping driveway, facing a vehicle that was less a car and more a statemer of obscene wealth.

It was a massive, sleek beast of darkened steel and blacked-out windows, so spacious it seemed to distort the space around it.

A uniformed driver, who had been standing at rigid attention, took one look at their approaching forms and, with practiced discretion, silently slid into the front seat, vanishing from sight.

North finally released his grip on Johan's wrist, his own fingers tingling.

He took several steps back, putting a precious few feet of asphalt between them.

"Are you insane?" The question burst from him, raw and ragged, his voice cracking on the last syllable.

It was less an inquiry and more a plea for some anchor in a reality that was rapidly dissolving.

Johan's expression remained infuriatingly placid, only his dark eyes alive with that terrifying, unwavering focus. "You asked me to buy you every café that day." His tone was that of a historian stating an indisputable fact.

It was simple cause and effect in the twisted universe he inhabited.

A fresh wave of dread washed over North.

The terrifying realization dawned: his words, even those spoken in sarcastic challenge, were seeds, and Johan's devotion was the most fertile, monstrous soil imaginable.

"So if I ask you to buy..." North started, a reckless, hysterical curiosity seizing him.

But he stopped mid-sentence, his throat closing up.

He saw the absolute seriousness in Johan's eyes, the readiness to treat any uttered desire as a sacred command.

He exhaled, a shaky, defeated sound. "Take it back," he whispered. "I don't want it."

Johan gave a slight, elegant shrug. "I can't. It's already under your name." He paused, letting the legal irrevocability of it sink in. "You would have to sell it to me."

"Then I'm selling it to you!" North cried out, grabbing at the lifeline he'd been thrown.

A faint smile touched Johan's lips. "But I don't want to buy it."

"Why are you like this???" North groaned, the sound torn from the depths of his soul. He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration.

Johan took a slow step forward, closing the distance North had tried to create.

"It is an apology gift," he explained, his voice coftening into a low intimate murmur. "For being unpresent the last two days."

The absurdity of it-a multi-million-baht apology for mere absence-was so colossal it stole the air from North's lungs.

He threw his head back, a wordless groan of utter exasperation directed at the uncaring sky.

This man's thought process was unbelievable.

"You'll be late for your classes, love," Johan said, his tone shifting back to one of practical concern, as if they had just been discussing the weather.

He moved to the rear door of the vehicle and pulled it open.

North looked from the open door to Johan's impassive face.

With a physical groan, he dragged his feet across the gravel and slumped into the cavernous interior, the plush leather sighing under his weight.

The door clicked shut, sealing them in.

The world outside vanished, the sounds of the city muffled into a distant hum.

The interior was a cocoon of luxury.

A solid, darkened partition wall completely separated them from the driver's compartment, creating a world of absolute, soundproofed privacy.

North's eyes, adjusted to the dim light, scanned the surroundings.

The space was vast, with soft, ambient lighting glowing from hidden panels.

"Is this new?" he asked, his voice small in the expansive silence.

Johan had settled beside him, his large frame dominating the space.

He didn't look at the car's features; his dark eyes were fixed solely on North, drinking in his profile, the line of his throat, the way his fingers nervously picked at the seam of his jeans.

"It is," Johan confirmed, his voice a low rumble.

A fascinated hum escaped North's lips.

It was the opening Johan had been waiting for.

In a movement too fluid and swift to anticipate, he closed the remaining distance.

His arms wrapped around North from behind, pulling him back against a chest that was solid and unyielding.

North stiffened, every muscle going taut.

"These two days," Johan murmured, his warm breath a deliberate, tickling ghost against the delicate shell of North's ear.

A violent shiver racked North's frame, entirely beyond his control. "I couldn't breathe, love."

North tilted his head slightly. "But you are still alive," he retorted, his voice a little shaky. "I guess you are breathing fine enough."

Johan's hold tightened almost imperceptibly.

He turned North in his embrace just enough to see the side of his face.

The intensity in his gaze was smothering. "I was so tired," he confessed.

He brought his nose closer nuzzling the sensitive skin just below North's jawline, inhaling deeply as if drawing sustenance from his very scent.

Then he pulled back, his dark eyes holding North captive.

"I need my inhaler."

Before North could process the statement, he felt it-the wet, warm, shockingly intimate slide of Johan's tongue along his jawline.

North's hands flew up, gripping Johan's shoulders to anchor himself.

The sensation was electric, primitive, sending jolts of pure lightning through his nervous system.

"Wait-" The word was a shaky, breathy exhale a plea and a surrender woven into one sound.

Johan leaned back, his expression one of fascination.

His warm, large hands came up to cup North's face, his thumbs stroking over his cheekbones with a devastating tenderness.

He tilted North's chin up, exposing his throat, and leaned in again.

This time, his lips found the small, dark mole just beneath North's jaw.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to it.

North felt his knees buckle, his strength dissolving.

Only Johan's firm embrace kept him upright.

Johan's lips then traveled to his ear, placing a soft, open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive cartilage.

"I-its~ it's ticklish-" North gasped, his body arching involuntarily.

A dark, triumphant tug pulled at Johan's lips.

He responded by capturing North's earlobe between his teeth, applying a gentle, persistent pressure, worrying the soft flesh before releasing it.

He pulled back just enough to take in the flushed boy sight. He was breathless, pliant, utterly undone.

With a controlled, deliberate push, Johan guided North back against the soft leather of the seat, looming over him.

His breath ghosted over North's lips.

Then, with agonizing slowness, he leaned in and captured North's fuller lower lip, drawing it slowly into the warm, plush captivity of his mouth.

A helpless, broken whimper escaped North, the sound swallowed by Johan's mouth.

Johan smiled against his lips, a predator savoring its catch.

He repeated the motion, sucking gently on the tender flesh before finally, decisively, sealing their mouths together in a deep, hungry kiss.

His hands slid down from North's face, settling on his waist, holding him in place with an possessiveness that was absolute.

The kiss deepened, losing its initial teasing slowness, transforming into a consuming hunger.

The wet, rhythmic sounds of their lips moving together filled the silent, luxurious space.

Johan's tongue traced the seam of North's lips, and when they parted on a shuddering gasp, he slipped inside.

The invasion was slow, deliberate, and devastatingly thorough.

He explored the warm, wet interior.

A choking sound, half-plea, half-sob, escaped North.

His fists, which had been clutching Johan's shoulders, now pounded weakly against them, his body starved for air.

Johan pulled back, his own breathing slightly ragged.

He looked down at North's face, flushed and disheveled, his lips swollen and glistening with saliva.

A dark, possessive fire burned in Johan's eyes.

He slowly ran his tongue over his own lips, tasting North there.

His thumb came up, stroking North's undone lower lip with a feather-light touch.

He leaned in again, but this time, his thumb pressed gently, insistently, against North's lips, parting them.

At the same time, his other hand fisted in the soft cotton of North's t-shirt, slowly pulling the hem upward.

North, dazed and submissive, allowed the fabric to be drawn up, over his stomach, his chest, until it was gathered just under his chin.

With gentle, firm fingers, Johan parted North's lips further and tucked the end of the bunched-up t-shirt between his teeth.

"Hold the tshirt for me, love," Johan commanded, his voice a hoarse, dark whisper.

North could only obey, his teeth closing reflexively on the soft cotton, his mind a haze of sensation.

The exposure, the vulnerability of it, made his skin flush with a fresh wave of heat.

Then he felt it-the wet, hot, searing contact of Johan's mouth on his bare chest.

Johan's lips closed over one nipple, sucking firmly.

North stilled, every nerve ending screaming.

A sharp, involuntary breath hissed through his nose, followed by a low, shuddering sound that was muffled by the fabric in his mouth.

Johan worshipped his chest with a starved beast's devotion.

His tongue laved and circled the taut bud, his teeth grazing it with exquisite care before sucking it deep again, leaving it wet, sensitive, and tingling.

His other hand was not idle, his fingers pinching and rolling the other nipple, sending twin waves of overwhelming pleasure-pain radiating through North's core.

A burning, coiling tension ignited deep in the pit of North's stomach, hot and urgent.

He was being utterly unraveled, his sanity stripped away layer by layer with every suck, every lick, every skillful caress.

Johan, unsatisfied with merely one pass, returned to the first nipple, sucking it until it was a stiff, reddened peak, hypersensitive and aching.

Only then did he pull his mouth away with a soft, wet pop.

His lips trailed a blazing path down North's sternum, placing little, soft, open-mouthed kisses as he moved lower, worshipping every inch of exposed skin on his chest and torso.

North was a trembling, whimpering mess, lost to the storm of sensation.

Another broken sound escaped him, strangled by the t-shirt.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of exquisite torture, Johan pulled back.

He gently removed the sodden fabric from between North's teeth, letting the t-shirt fall back into place, though it did nothing to hide the evidence of his ministrations.

North's eyes were glazed and glossy, his cheeks and ears burned a deep, feverish red, his lips were swollen, and his breath came in ragged, shallow pants.

Johan leaned in once more, burying his nose in the junction of North's throat and shoulder, inhaling his scent deeply, as if marking it to memory.

He placed a series of small, possessive kisses along the cord of his neck.

Another full-body shiver wracked North.

Then, Johan chose his spot.

He pressed his mouth to a patch of skin just above North's collarbone and sucked, hard and deliberate.

The sensation was a sharp, possessive sting that melted into a throbbing heat.

When he pulled back, a deep, livid red mark was already blooming on the pale skin-a brand, a claim.

He pulled back, his own desire a palpable force in the enclosed space, his gaze dropping to North's mouth, ready to reclaim it.

It was then that the car glided to a perfect, silent halt.

Johan paused, every muscle in his body coiled with frustrated tension.

He listened for a moment, then a slow, knowing smile spread across his face, though it didn't quite reach his hungry eyes.

"We are at your University, love," he said, his voice dangerously hoarse.

In an instant the consuming predator was gone, replaced by the polished king.

He pulled back, sitting upright, his hands moving with efficient grace to straighten his own impeccably tailored suit, as if he had just concluded a business meeting instead of reducing North to a breathless, marked-up wreck.

~***~

North didn't make it to class.

His feet, moving on a panicked autopilot, carried him straight past the lecture hall doors and into the stark, tiled silence of the men's washroom.

The door swung shut behind him, muffling the world outside, and only then did his legs truly give way.

He braced himself against the cold porcelain of a sink, his head hanging low, drawing in ragged breaths that did nothing to calm the frantic drum of his heart.

The sensation was too much.

It was a whirlwind of contradiction.

Insane.

He's insane.

This is insane.

A full-body shudder wracked him.

He forced his head up, his eyes meeting their reflection in the mirror.

And immediately, his ears reddened in embarrassment.

There he was, his face flushed, his lips still looking slightly swollen, his eyes wide. There was a dazed, overwhelmed glow to them that he didn't recognize.

The blush crawling up his neck and burning the tips of his ears.

The memory of Johan's intense, dark eyes staring directly into his soul.

A low, frustrated, guttural sound ripped from his throat. "Agahhshs!"

He groaned, pressing the heels of his palms against his closed eyes, trying to erase the image. But it was no use. The phantom sensation was seared into his skin.

It was delicious.

The thought slipped, unbidden and treacherous, into his mind.

There was no denying it.

The intensity, the absolute, terrifying focus... a part of him, a part he was frantically trying to silence, was savoring it.

It was a dark, addictive flavor and it was intoxicating.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he whispered to his reflection, but the crimson in his ears only deepened.

He couldn't face a classroom like this.

He looked... unraveled.

Flustered in a way that had nothing to do with academic stress and everything to do with a man who bought planetariums, cafe's and bit lips instead of asking for kisses.

With a final, shaky sigh, he fumbled with the lock on a stall door, sliding it shut with a definitive click.

He needed to hide.

Just for a few minutes.

To splash cold water on his face and try to convince the traitorous warmth in his veins and the blush on his skin to disappear before he had to pretend to be normal.

~***~

The drive to his office was a blur of sunlight and city noise, but Johan saw none of it.

His mind was a reel of perfect, searing images: the stunned awe on North's face, the furious, adorable blush that painted his skin after the bite, the way his body had initially stiffened before melting, just for a second, into Johan's embrace.

A small, unguarded smile played on his lips.

It was a foreign sensation. He wasn't smiling at a conquered rival or a successful business deal.

He was smiling at the memory of a boy's flustered groan.

He entered his penthouse office.

Tiger was sprawled on the low-slung Italian leather sofa, his long fingers clicking the tiles of a Rubik's cube with restless energy.

He looked up as Johan entered, taking in the relaxed set of his brother's shoulders, the faint, lingering softness around his eyes.

Tiger stopped twisting the cube. The silence stretched.

"Brother," Tiger said, his voice flat. "Do you know how much of a loser in love you look like right now?"

Johan paused, his hand hovering over his desk. He didn't turn around. The smile on his face didn't fade; if anything, it deepened.

Finally, Johan turned.

He leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms.

His dark eyes held a faint, amused light.

"I know," Johan replied, his voice a low, calm rumble. There was no shame. No denial.

The admission seemed to suck the air out of the room. Tiger's jaw went slack.

He snapped his mouth shut. He tossed the rubic cube onto the cushion.

"Yeah, well," Tiger muttered. "It's insane. I can't b-"

The office door opened without a sound.

A guard, dressed in a severe black suit, stood at the threshold. His face was neutral, but his eyes held a sharp urgency that immediately vaporized the relaxed atmosphere.

The softness around Johan's eyes vanished. The small smile dissolved into an impassive line.

The "loser in love" was gone, folded away in an instant.

"Sir," the guard voice was clipped. "We have a situation. It's another rat."

Tiger was on his feet in an instant, all lazy indifference gone.

Johan's gaze, now flat and analytical, shifted to the guard. "What about him?"

"He's been skimming from the downtown operations," the man stated. "A significant amount. And he was foolish enough to try to move the product through a channel we control. He's at the warehouse. He's... waiting for you."

A profound silence filled the room.

Johan's expression didn't change.

He simply uncrossed his arms and pushed himself off the desk.

He walked to his desk and opened a small box. Inside, nestled on black velvet, was a sleek, matte black pistol.

He checked the magazine with a practiced, casual efficiency and slid it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

The gesture was so natural, so routine, it was chilling.

He started towards the door, his men falling into step behind him. As he passed the sofa, he paused, his eyes landing on Tiger.

The briefest flicker of understanding passed between the brothers.

Johan's lips curved again, but this time it was not the smile of a man in love. It was the cold, sharp edge of a blade.

The opulent office was silent once more.

The air still carried the faint, sweet scent of roses from Johan's clothes-a ghost of the lovesick man who had walked in, now completely overwritten by the kingpin who had just left to deliver a final judgment.