(BL) A Regretful Revenge

It began with a message.

Short. Direct. Unpredictable.

"Mr. Himora has requested a file update in person. Bring the projections to his office."

No assistant. No attached memo. Just a call from the top.

Micheal didn't hesitate. He adjusted his collar, picked up the neatly prepared documents, and made his way to the 34th floor, Ken's floor.

He had been there once or twice before, but never alone. Never like this.

The hallway was quiet. Dimly lit. The kind of silence that made every step echo like a countdown.

He reached the black double doors of Ken's office and knocked lightly.

No answer.

He turned the handle, slowly, and stepped inside.

"Sir?"

Silence.

But Ken was there.

Behind the grand oak desk, sunk into his leather chair, eyes closed, head slightly tilted back. His jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, his tie loose. The stress of the week clearly weighing on his shoulders.

He was sleeping.

Vulnerable. Unguarded.

Micheal stared.

For a long second, he didn't move. The man who haunted his plans, who ruled boardrooms and demolished competitors, was now breathing slow and steady, quiet and human.

And something inside Micheal shifted.

He walked in, closing the door softly behind him.

The scent of Ken's cologne filled the room, woodsy, clean, masculine. It clung to the air like an invisible force.

Micheal circled the desk, footsteps soft, until he stood directly beside the chair.

His heartbeat was fast now.

His eyes dropped to Ken's neck, where a faint pulse flickered beneath his skin.

Then, without thinking, or maybe thinking too much, Micheal reached out.

His fingers brushed Ken's jaw gently, as if testing the reality of the moment. Ken stirred, eyes fluttering open.

They locked eyes.

For a second, nothing happened.

No words. No commands. No resistance.

Just… acceptance.

Micheal leaned in.

Slowly.

Intimately.

His lips hovered near Ken's, and when he felt no recoil, no pushback, he pressed forward.

Their lips touched.

Ken didn't move, but he didn't pull away either.

The kiss was soft at first. Curious. Micheal's hands found Ken's shoulders, tracing the curve of muscle, the edge of his collarbone. Ken's breath hitched, and his hands, once idle on the chair arms, slowly rose, resting against Micheal's waist.

The kiss deepened.

Their bodies leaned into each other.

Heat built, not sudden, but rising in waves. Micheal's hands slipped down, fingertips grazing Ken's chest. He kissed harder now, tilting his head, letting himself fall into the moment with a hunger that surprised even him.

Ken responded, his hand tightening at Micheal's waist, pulling him closer until Micheal straddled his lap, their chests pressed together.

Micheal gasped into the kiss, surprised by the pressure between them, by how natural it felt.

This was supposed to be a game…

A manipulation.

But now his body was trembling.

His hands slid beneath Ken's open collar, fingers pressing into warm skin. Ken tilted his head back, exposing his neck, letting Micheal kiss along the line of his jaw, down to his throat.

He didn't speak. He didn't resist.

He simply let it happen.

Micheal bit his lip, breathing heavily, his forehead pressed against Ken's.

Why does this feel so good?

Why don't I feel disgusted?

His body burned with need, not just to dominate, but to be closer. To feel more.

He kissed Ken again, deeper this time, their tongues meeting, tasting. Exploring.

Ken groaned softly against his mouth, the sound vibrating through Micheal's chest like lightning.

Still… no words.

Just breaths.

Just hands.

Micheal's hands slid lower, fingertips brushing Ken's belt, but he stopped himself. Just shy of the edge.

Not yet.

They weren't naked. Not completely. But the intimacy felt completely overwhelming.

Micheal's heart raced as he kissed Ken one more time, slow, possessive, and finally pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against Ken's again.

His eyes opened.

Ken's were already on him.

And there, for the first time, Micheal saw something he hadn't expected:

Confusion.

Not from Ken.

From himself.

His lips tingled. His body was tight with want. And yet..

I don't feel dirty. I don't feel used. I… wanted that.

He looked away.

Something in him trembled, and it wasn't from shame.

It was from how right it had felt.

This wasn't part of the plan…

And yet, for the first time since stepping foot in Himora Corp..

Micheal didn't want to stop.