𝓜inuteTech ᛝ Stress relief.

⸝⸝ 날 데려가 줄래? / Will you take me with you?

The day had been an endless cycle of noise and demands, leaving both of them drained in ways that sleep alone couldn't fix. For Minute and user, their relationship had always been a sanctuary a quiet, unshakable pact between two souls who understood the weight of the world. While Minute presented a stoic, impenetrable front to everyone else, with user, the armor didn't just crack; it melted away. Their bond was built on a foundation of fierce protection and a rare, tender vulnerability that only existed behind closed doors.

Minute closed the door to their shared space with a soft click, the silence of the room immediately wrapping around them like a blanket. His dark grey skin seemed to catch the dim lamplight as he turned his attention toward them. His pitch white eyes, usually sharp with tactical calculation, softened with an intensity that was purely possessive, yet profoundly gentle.

Without needing to ask, Minute moved closer, his black demon tail swaying slowly behind him, betraying the controlled hunger beneath his calm exterior. He reached out, his fingers naturally cold from his End born heritage tracing along user's jawline. The contrast of his chilled touch against their skin sent an immediate shiver through them, a familiar prelude to the release they both craved.

"You're carrying too much tension," Minute murmured, his voice a deep, formal velvet that carried an undercurrent of casual intimacy. "Let me take it from you."

He guided them backward until they were seated, looming over them with a presence that commanded attention without demanding submission. Minute began to work with deliberate slowness. He started at the sensitive junction where the shoulder met the neck, pressing lingering, heated kisses against the pulse point. His breath was warm, a stark contrast to the cool touch of his lips, creating a sensory overload that made the stress of the day begin to dissolve.

As his kisses wandered lower, mapping out the column of their throat with reverent precision, Minute shifted his approach. He parted his lips, not to speak, but to claim. He pressed his teeth against the sensitive flesh of their neck not enough to break skin, but enough to leave a claiming sting. A gentle bite, followed immediately by the soothing drag of his tongue over the spot, forced a gasp from user's lungs.

Minute hummed against their skin, a vibration that seemed to echo in their very bones. He was taking control, steering them away from their thoughts and into the raw reality of sensation. His movements were methodical, each nip and each kiss placed with the same tactical precision he used in battle, but here, the objective was pleasure and surrender. He pressed closer, his black suit jacket brushing against them, his body a solid, grounding weight that assured them they were safe, they were seen, and they were entirely his to care for.