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It was quiet, unnaturally so for a place that usually thrummed with Taiga’s chaos. Sunlight filtered through thin curtains, pale gold and soft, warming the tatami beneath your feet as you padded down the hall in borrowed slippers. The scent of minerals and pine lingered in your hair, skin still faintly warm from the baths the night before.
You hadn’t expected to be summoned.
The note had been short. Slanted handwriting, careless yet deliberate.
Morning. My room. Don’t be late, kitty cat.
It was unmistakably his. Who calls you “kitty cat” other than him?
You stood before the door longer than necessary, heart beating a little faster than logic allowed. The corridor felt too narrow, too quiet, as if the world itself had leaned closer to listen. When you finally slid the door open, the first thing you noticed was the light.
Taiga was sprawled across the futon, half-draped in a loose yukata, patterned with seigaiha. He lay on his back, one leg bent, the other lazily stretched out, his crimson hair fanned across a pillow. Gold glinted at his neck, chains warm against his skin. His sharp eyes tracked you instantly.
“Well?” he drawled, lips pulling into that familiar, dangerous grin. “You gonna stare all day, or come here?”
The door slid shut behind you with a soft click that sounded far too final.
You crossed the room, pulse loud in your ears. Up close, he smelled faintly of metal. When you hesitated at the edge of the futon, Taiga’s hand shot out, fingers closing around your wrist with a grip that was firm but not rough.
He tugged.
You stumbled forward, landing against him as he laughed under his breath, low and pleased. One arm came around your waist, steadying you, keeping you there. His other hand lifted, brushing beneath your chin until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.
“Relax,” he murmured. “If I wanted to scare you, you’d know.”
His thumb traced your lower lip, slow, almost thoughtful. For someone so reckless, his touch was strangely precise as if he were memorizing you. The grin softened, just barely, into something intent.
“You looked at me last night,” he continued quietly. “Thought you were being subtle.”
Your breath hitched. “You look at everyone.”
“Nah.” His eyes narrowed, sharp teeth flashing. “Just the ones I want.”
The space between you disappeared. His forehead pressed lightly to yours, breath warm, teasing. For a moment, neither of you moved, tension coiling tight enough to hurt. Then Taiga tilted his head and kissed you.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t rushed, either. It was deliberate, his mouth claiming yours like a wager he was certain to win. His hand slid from your waist to your back, fingers splaying, drawing you closer until there was no question of where you belonged. You tasted heat and metal and something wild, and when you gasped, he laughed softly into your mouth.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Just like that.”
You found yourself straddling his hips without remembering how you got there, yukata pooling around your thighs. Taiga’s hands roamed shamelessly, mapping the curve of your back, the slope of your waist, thumbs brushing just enough to make your skin prickle. His jagged smile hovered at your throat, lips grazing, teeth ghosting along your pulse without biting.
He paused there, listening to your heartbeat.
“Fast,” he observed, amused. “Cute.”
You tangled your fingers in his hair, surprised by its softness, by the way he stilled for half a second at the contact. His eyes fluttered shut, just briefly, before snapping open again- darker, hungry.
“Careful, kitty,” he warned, voice low. “You keep doing that, and I’m not stopping.”
The room felt warmer with every breath. Outside, you could hear distant water, the chirping of the birds, but it felt unreal like the world had narrowed to this futon, this man, this moment balanced on the edge of something dangerous and intoxicating.
Taiga rolled you easily, pinning you beneath him with a strength he didn’t bother to hide. He braced himself above you, hair falling like a curtain around your face. He studied you for a long second, expression unreadable.
Then he kissed you again slower this time, deeper, until time slipped sideways and the sun climbed higher, until the only thing that mattered was the heat between you and the reckless, brilliant ghoul who had decided, just for this morning, that you were worth stopping the world for.
Taiga didn’t seem bored at all. His weight settled comfortably, as if he knew exactly how much of himself to give without crushing you. His forearm rested beside your head, caging you in, like a challenge you’d already accepted.
For someone who thrived on chaos, his stillness now was almost unnerving.
His gaze traced your face slowly, memorizing again. The sharp edge of him softened, not gone but tempered, like a blade held close rather than swung.
“You know,” he murmured, thumb brushing the side of your jaw, “people usually don’t look at me the way you do.”
Your breath caught. “How do I look at you?”
“Like you’re not scared,” he said simply. “Like you’re curious.”
That earned you a low laugh from him, breath warm against your cheek. He dipped his head, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear, briefly, lingering enough to send a shiver through you.
But his hand slid into yours instead, fingers lacing together, rings cool against your skin.
The contrast was dizzying, this man who pointed guns without hesitation, who chewed through danger like it was nothing, now lying tangled with you in quiet morning, thumb absentmindedly tracing circles over your knuckles. As if he were grounding himself through touch.
Outside, footsteps passed in the hall. Laughter. The distant, careless normalcy of the trip continued on, unaware.
Taiga stilled for half a heartbeat, listening.
Then he smirked.
“Guess we’re behaving,” he said. “For now.”
He rolled onto his side, tugging you with him, pulling you against his chest. His chin rested lightly atop your head, arm draped around your waist with possessive ease. You could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath the fabric.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was charged, intimate in a way that felt more dangerous than any reckless stunt. His fingers idly played with a strand of your hair, absentminded but attentive, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
“…You staying?” he asked quietly, almost offhand.
It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t even phrased like a question that expected reassurance.
It was an invitation.
The morning sunlight crept higher. Whatever came next, whether it was laughter, trouble, or the inevitable chaos Taiga dragged behind him, this moment belonged only to the two of you.
And for now, that was enough.