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The chessboard sat between them, its polished squares catching the late afternoon light slanting through the apartment window. Kagami tapped a knight lightly against her bottom lip, considering her next move. Across from her, Felix leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming idly on the armrest. His eyes weren’t on the board they hadn’t been for the last three turns.
"You’re distracted!" Kagami said, finally placing the knight down with a decisive click. "If you forfeit, I win by default."
Felix exhaled, shaking his head as if clearing cobwebs. "I’m thinking."
"About?"
"Portabella mushrooms."
Kagami arched an eyebrow. "Mushrooms." Kagami repeated flatly. The queen in her hand hovered midair. "You're losing to fungi."
Felix grinned, but it was the sort of grin that meant he wasn't really listening—the kind that made Kagami want to flick a pawn at his forehead. Instead, she moved her queen diagonally, cutting off his bishop's retreat.
"Check!" Kagami said, but Felix was already reaching across the board—not for his beleaguered bishop, but for her wrist. His fingers were warm where they brushed her pulse point, lingering just a second too long to be accidental.
"Areca palms!" Felix said suddenly.
"What?"
Kagami blinked. "Areca palms," she repeated, her voice flat with disbelief. The queen slipped from her fingers and rolled onto its side with a soft clatter. "Are you having a stroke?"
Felix laughed, low and easy, his thumb tracing a slow circle against her wrist. The touch sent an unexpected warmth up her arm. "No," he said. "But I was thinking your place could use more greenery. Areca palms are nice. They're tropical. Resilient." His gaze flicked to the chessboard, then back to her face. "Like you."
Kagami snorted, but her pulse jumped under his fingertips. "Flattery won't save your bishop." she said, nodding toward the board. His grip loosened, but instead of withdrawing, his fingers slid down to tangle with hers.
"I don't care about the bishop." Felix murmured. His other hand reached out, nudging his king off its square with a deliberate clink. "I forfeit."
The declaration hung between them, absurdly weighty for a game neither of them had been fully invested in. Kagami stared at their joined hands, then at the toppled king. "You're conceding?" Kagami asked, her voice quieter than she intended.
Felix didn’t answer—not with words, anyway. His fingers tightened around hers, pulling her hand closer until their clasped hands rested on the edge of the chessboard, scattering pawns like fallen soldiers. The late afternoon light caught the gold flecks in his eyes, and Kagami realized, with a jolt, that he wasn’t looking at the board, or their hands, or even the scattered pieces. He was looking at her mouth.
"You’re cheating." Kagami said, but there was no bite to it. Her voice came out softer than she’d intended, almost breathless.
"Am I?" Felix’s thumb brushed the back of her knuckles, slow, deliberate. "I thought conceding meant I lost fair and square."
"Conceding mid-game is its own kind of strategy." Kagami tilted her head, studying him. The way his lashes cast shadows over his cheekbones, the way his lips quirked at the corners like he knew something she didn’t. "What’s your endgame, Felix?"
"This."
Felix leaned in before she could ask what "this" meant, his free hand coming up to cradle the side of her face. His fingers slid into her hair, warm and sure, and then his lips were on hers—soft at first, testing, like he was savoring the moment before committing. Kagami froze, her breath catching in her throat, but then his thumb stroked her cheekbone, and something in her chest unraveled. She let her eyes flutter shut, leaning into him as the kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if they had all the time in the world.
The chessboard between them was forgotten, pieces scattered where their hands had knocked them aside. The only sound was the quiet rustle of fabric as Felix shifted closer, his knee brushing hers beneath the table. His mouth moved against hers with a quiet certainty that made her pulse thrum, as if this had been inevitable from the moment he'd reached for her wrist.
When he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against hers, Kagami exhaled a shaky laugh. "That.. wasn't in the rulebook!" Kagami murmured.
Felix grinned, his breath warm against her lips. "I prefer improvisation." His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, lingering at the corner of her mouth. "Besides, you were winning. I had to change tactics."
Kagami huffed, but her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, tugging him closer instead of pushing him away. "Cheater."
Felix’s grin widened, the chessboard forgotten as Kagami’s fingers twisted in his shirt. "Only cheating if you mind." He murmured, leaning in again, but she pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him just shy of her lips. His heartbeat thudded under her palm, steady but quicker than usual—a tell, just like the way his fingers flexed against her waist, restless even now.
Kagami tilted her head, studying him. "You planned this." It wasn’t a question. The scattered pieces, the deliberate forfeit—none of it was accidental. Felix had always been better at chess than he let on, and the realization curled warm in her stomach. "You threw the game."
"Not threw." Felix corrected, catching her wrist and pressing a kiss to her palm that made her breath hitch. "Redirected. Strategically." His teeth grazed the heel of her hand, just enough to tease, and she shivered. "You were taking too long to win."
Kagami scoffed, but the sound dissolved into a gasp when Felix stood abruptly, chair scraping back, and hauled her up with him. The sudden movement sent a rook tumbling to the floor, rolling under the couch, but neither of them glanced down. His hands slid down to her hips, lifting her onto the edge of the table with effortless strength. The remaining chess pieces scattered, clattering against the wood like startled birds.
"Felix—"
The protest died on Kagami’s lips as Felix crowded between her knees, hands braced on either side of her hips against the table. The chess pieces still rattling to a stop around them sounded absurdly loud in the sudden quiet of the apartment. His breath was warm against her mouth, uneven now—like he’d been the one dragged into this when she knew well he’d orchestrated every second of it.
"You," Kagami said, gripping the edge of the table behind her for balance, "are insufferable when you’re smug." Her knees tightened around his waist on instinct, pulling him closer even as she glared.
Felix laughed—a soft, breathless sound—and ducked his head to press his lips to the hinge of her jaw. "You love it." Felix murmured against her skin, teeth scraping just enough to make her gasp. His fingers slid under the hem of her shirt, warm against the dip of her waist. "Admit it. You’ve been waiting for me to flip the board since I moved my pawn to e5."
Kagami arched into his touch, heat pooling low in her stomach. "I was waiting for you to stop talking about mushrooms!" Kagami retorted, but her voice wavered when his mouth found the sensitive spot below her ear.
Felix hummed, the vibration sending a shiver down her spine. His hands skimmed higher, thumbs brushing the underside of her ribs. "Liar." He nipped at her earlobe, and she jerked, knocking over what might have been her queen with a clatter. "You’ve been staring at my mouth since I forfeited."
Kagami’s breath hitched as Felix’s teeth grazed her earlobe, her fingers tightening on the edge of the table. The chessboard was a lost cause now—pieces strewn like casualties of war, pawns scattered under the couch, her queen toppled somewhere near his abandoned king. She should’ve been annoyed. Instead, all she could focus on was the way his hands slid up her sides, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing the shape of her.
"I was staring?" Kagami managed, tilting her head to give him better access as his mouth traced the line of her throat. "You’re the one who couldn’t stop talking about houseplants." Her voice wavered when his thumb brushed the sensitive skin just below her ribs, and she dug her nails into his shoulders to steady herself. "Chess was just an excuse."
Felix chuckled against her collarbone, the sound warm and rough. "Guilty." His hands slid around to her back, pulling her flush against him until the edge of the table bit into her thighs. "But you were the one who kept setting up the board every time you came over." His lips found hers again, swallowing her half-hearted protest, and this time, Kagami didn’t resist. She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging lightly just to hear the way his breath stuttered against her mouth.
A pawn skittered to the floor as Felix leaned into her, the table creaking under their combined weight. Kagami barely noticed. His kiss was intoxicating—slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world to unravel her. When he finally pulled back, his lips were slightly swollen, his pupils blown wide. "Admit it," he murmured, tracing the curve of her bottom lip with his thumb. "You’d rather lose a hundred games if it ended like this."
Kagami scoffed, but her cheeks burned. "You wish." She nipped at his thumb, earning a low groan, and then—because she couldn’t resist—added, "But maybe one or two."