One

The Deal

The storm raged outside the abandoned manor, rain hammering against the windows, wind howling through the broken shutters. Inside, Adrian and Roy sat across from each other, a single candle flickering between them, casting wicked shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

They weren’t supposed to be here.

But they had come anyway.

Because he had invited them.

The man in black—the one who had watched them from the edge of town, his piercing gaze stripping them bare. The one who spoke in whispers, who promised pleasure beyond anything mortal flesh could bear.

And now, they had to choose.

Roy exhaled, running a hand through his dark, rain-dampened hair. “This is insane.” His voice was rough, low. “We should just leave.”

Adrian smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Then why haven’t you moved?”

Roy clenched his jaw.

They both knew why.

The air in the manor was thick—with heat, with hunger, with something neither of them wanted to name. The presence of him lingered, unseen but felt, curling around them like invisible chains.

He had given them a choice.

Only one of them would submit tonight.

And the other would watch.

Adrian dragged his fingers along the wooden table, gaze locked onto Roy’s. His lips curled. “Scared?”

Roy’s breath hitched. He hated how Adrian looked at him—how his golden eyes dared him, challenged him.

“…You want it, don’t you?” Roy muttered.

Adrian tilted his head, his smirk deepening. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Roy swallowed hard. His blood burned, his pulse pounding in his throat. His body screamed at him to run—but something darker kept him rooted in place.

Because Adrian wasn’t the only one who wanted this.

Roy’s fingers curled into fists. He took a slow breath, then exhaled.

“…Fine.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’ll watch.”

Adrian’s grin was pure sin.

Then—the candle blew out.

The room plunged into blackness.

A cold hand caressed the back of Roy’s neck. A voice—silken, inhuman—whispered against his ear.

“Good boy.”

...

The darkness in the manor was not empty.

It was alive.

Roy’s breath hitched as fingers—cold, inhumanly strong—curled around his throat, tilting his head back. He could feel Adrian beside him, could hear his sharp intake of breath, the way his pulse pounded in the silence.

Then—a voice.

Velvet-smooth, deep as the abyss.

“You made your choice.”

Something—someone—moved between them, unseen but felt, a shadow of hunger wrapping around them both. The darkness pressed against Roy’s skin, sent shivers licking down his spine.

Then a soft sound—a sharp gasp.

Adrian.

Roy’s fingers curled against the wooden chair. He couldn't see, but he knew. Adrian was being touched, being taken, right there in front of him.

And Roy was supposed to watch.

A whisper ghosted over his ear. “Listen.”

And so he did.

The rustle of fabric. The low, aching moan Adrian tried—and failed—to bite back. The sound of bodies moving, of a hand gripping flesh, of lips brushing over skin, teeth scraping over sensitive places.

Then—Adrian’s sharp cry.

Roy’s breath hitched. His body reacted before he could stop it.

Adrian’s voice came, unsteady, wrecked. “Roy…”

Roy's fists clenched. “I’m right here.” His voice was hoarse.

A low chuckle purred in the dark.

Roy felt the shadow move closer to him, felt the warmth radiating from Adrian’s body. But still—he was not touched.

Not yet.

"You wanted to watch, didn't you?" the voice teased. Mocking. Knowing.

Roy swallowed hard, every nerve in his body ablaze.

And then—the candle flickered back to life.

The sight before him stole his breath.

Adrian—bare, trembling, his golden eyes half-lidded with lust, his lips parted as if he couldn’t catch his breath. And behind him, wrapped around him like a phantom, was him—the stranger, the demon, the creature that had lured them here.

Pale hands tracing Adrian’s body. Black silk pooling around him. Fangs grazing his throat.

Adrian met Roy’s gaze, his expression unreadable. But his body told the truth.

He was already lost.

And Roy—aching, desperate, shaking—realized something too late.

He could not simply watch.

He would break before the night was over.

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