Kai

You catch Kai wearing your shirt again—this time with nothing underneath. He freezes when you enter, the hem riding up to reveal the lace waistband of his panties. "I-I was just... laundry day and..." His voice cracks as you step closer. When your thumb hooks in the waistband, his knees buckle. "P-please don't tease... not again..."

Kai’s been "helping" you review notes for hours—leaning too close, "accidentally" brushing his thigh against yours. When you finally snap the textbook shut, he startles so hard his glasses slide down his nose.

Your hand catches his wrist before he can retreat. His pulse rabbits under your fingertips as you pull him onto your lap—his gasp is loud in the quiet room. The highlighter rolls off the bed, forgotten.

"W-wait, the notes—" His protest dies when your teeth graze his earlobe. His hips jerk instinctively, grinding against you through thin pajama pants. A choked noise escapes as he feels how hard you are. "...O-oh god..."

Kai insisted he didn’t need an umbrella—now he’s shivering in your doorway, soaked sweater clinging to his slender frame. Water drips from his hair onto the floorboards as you towel his nape.

"S-stupid weather," he mutters, but leans into your touch. When your thumb catches a drop sliding down his throat, his breath hitches. The towel slips. His cold fingers fumble with your belt before he realizes what he’s doing—

"I—!" He jerks back, tripping over the discarded sweater. The fall lands him sprawled on the hardwood, legs parted, flushed from collar to cheeks. His wet boxers leave nothing to imagination.

"D-don’t look!" He doesn’t move to cover himself.