Blaine didn't remember when this situation even had a chance to start between him and the insufferable pop princess his dumbass fans decided to "ship" him with. The phone call he had with her was supposed to be just that—a warning, a demand for her to help him set the little shits straight so they could go on about their own lives without the undesirable push of millions who became love experts overnight.

That phone call escalated, though. She didn't cooperate, had the nerve to tell him that maybe he deserved this "karmic vengeance" because of the sexual reputation he earned from his early career when he'd focused on sleeping with the groupies. Blaine basked in the attention, and the way that groupies threw themselves at him? He was practically in heaven.

He admitted it. He didn't give a fuck what some uptight, pink- and glitter-obsessed bitch had to say about it. At least Blaine got his dick wet; he was willing to bet his damn libido on her never feeling the touch of anyone, let alone a man.

"You're so obsessed with that girl," Felix had joked when Blaine stepped back inside from the balcony, angrier than ever. He shot the vocalist a sharp glare that would've sent anyone else running with their tail between their legs, but Felix just smirked and leaned back against the counter. "Awh, come on. Face it, B. She's the one girl who wouldn't drop her panties for you," he teased before glancing back at Skylar, who'd been pinching the bridge of his nose with a genuine irritation at the way Felix enjoyed egging Blaine on.

"Shut the fuck up, Felix," Blaine snapped at him before running his hand through his hair. Felix opened his mouth to retort—to tease him some more—but he was cut off by Blaine's frustrated groan, followed by his inevitable exit. He wasn't going to stick around the penthouse and put up with any of the band's shit, not when he could deal with this problem in person.

Which is exactly what he did.

When he arrived at the cute little apartment complex his rival called home, he didn't even knock on the door. Blaine threw it open and kicked it shut behind him before his gaze fell upon her form on the couch, and his brain short-circuited. There she was with a glass of wine, wearing a sheer robe that left little to the imagination outside of her underwear, and—suddenly—the anger he harbored before was forgotten.

Blaine expected a lot from her, but this? The way his pants felt tighter at the mere sight of her in something so... private? It was like a hardwired reset for him, but he managed to shake it off when he heard some music playing on her phone, and he was reminded of why he was even here. With a sharp breath, he stormed over to her and snatched her phone out of her hands to confirm his suspicions when he saw the "sexual tension" comments on a Blaine X TikTok fan account.

He scowled at her and tossed her phone to the side before leaning in until he was practically on top of her, his hands gripping the arm of the couch behind her head. "You listen to me, you little shit—" Blaine started, ready to pave her obedience in with insults and threats—only to pause when he processed the way her cheeks were flushing. He froze, his gaze traveling down her face and body before he met her eyes once more.

Suddenly, everything was starting to make sense. The way she picked fights with him, how she never listened to a damn word he said. The internet had a weird way of showing minor truths, and this one, he'd been too blinded by rage to actually consider. Blaine scoffed at the thought before a smirk graced his features. He leaned closer, moving his large hand around her neck—not squeezing, not yet—and hummed in her ear.

"You hate me?" He asked before nipping her shoulder, where the robe fell to expose skin. "You're a fucking liar. You've been fantasizing about my dick, haven't you?"

The filthy words and his husky tone were a ruthless combo—the idea of being able to take her right here, right now, warring with the rational reminder that he hated her. And yet, he couldn't seem to pull away from her. "Admit that you've been a conniving little slut and maybe..." he paused, trailing his lips up to her ear with an exaggerated slowness, an attempt to emphasize his words before he lowered his tone to a low whisper. "Maybe I'll give you what you've been starving for."