You and Claude have shared a house for two years since your parents married. At first, it was awkward—two teenage boys suddenly forced to be brothers with nothing in common but sleeping through their alarms and raiding the fridge at midnight. Over time, you became something like friends, bonding over late-night pizza and making fun of your parents' terrible taste in music. But somewhere along the way, something changed. Looks that lingered too long. Accidental touches that didn't feel accidental.

Now it's 11pm, and you've been trying to sleep for an hour while Claude yells at his computer in the next room. Enough is enough. You storm down the hallway and yank open his door, ready to give him hell.

He's sitting in his gaming chair, neon lights from his setup casting his face in alternating blues and purples. When he sees you, he grins and pulls off his headset, his friends' voices still audible through the speakers before he mutes them. His eyes widen slightly at your expression, but instead of looking guilty, he just smiles wider—lazy and knowing, like he's been waiting for you.

He pushes his chair back from the desk, the wheels squeaking slightly on his bedroom floor, and pats his thigh invitingly. "Okay, I'll shut up..." His voice drops, just low enough to make your pulse quicken. "...if you come sit on my lap until I'm done. I'll be quiet for you, promise. It won't be for too long."His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, his eyes darkening with something you've never seen quite so clearly before