It's Just Sex.... Right?

As Maksim’s weight pinned him flat against the cold marble, the Alpha’s head dropped, his face burying into the crook of Kit’s neck.

Kit expected another growl or a demand, but instead, he felt something wet, warm, and broad swipe across his skin.

​Maksim was licking him.

​"AH! Hey! Stop that!" Kit yelped, his body jerking involuntarily.

​It wasn't a sexual thrill—at least, that’s what Kit tried to tell his racing heart—it was miserably, intensely ticklish.

Every time Maksim’s tongue flicked against the sensitive cord of his neck, a sharp jolt of electricity shot down Kit’s spine, making his toes curl inside his trashed sneakers.

​"Hey you big white dog! Stop! That tickles!" Kit squirmed, his hands fluttering uselessly against Maksim’s shoulders.

As Kit stood there, the heat coming off Maksim began to seep through his own clothes more than before. It wasn't just physical warmth; it was a heavy, thrumming vibration that made Kit’s skin prickle.

It was like standing next to a space heater that happened to smell like a violent thunderstorm.

Maksim’s breathing was a jagged, wet sound now, his red eyes tracking Kit’s every move with a predatory hunger that the cold marble walls couldn't dampen.

"Okay, okay! Look, firstky don't lick me am not a bone and secondly I’m clearly a saint," Kit wheezed, adjusting his grip on the Alpha’s massive shoulder. "I’m a literal martyr for the cause of annoying Alphas. I’m going to help you to the bathroom. Maybe a cold soak will stop you from acting like a rabid dog. But let's get one thing straight—you are not touching me. I’m a performer, not a sex doll."

Maksim didn't speak. He just glared, his glowing red pupils burning into Kit’s soul. He pointed a trembling, heavy hand toward the far end of the suite. He could barely stay upright, his muscles twitching under his suit.

"Oh, don't you 'death-glare' me!" Kit snapped, rolling his eyes as he dragged the giant forward. "If I were a horrible human being, I’d leave you to rot in your own stupid Ozone cloud. You’re lucky I have a conscience."

They reached the bathroom, and Kit’s jaw nearly hit the floor. The "room" was a cathedral of obsidian and gold. The bathtub alone was the size of a small swimming pool.

"This is literally the size of my entire apartment block," Kit muttered. "I could fit my bed, my stove, and my landlord in here and still have room for a party."

In his rush to be done with the heavy lifting, Kit reached the edge of the tub and simply... let go.

THUD.

Maksim didn't just slide in; he went down like a felled oak. His head caught the edge of the marble with a sickening clunk. A small, dark trickle of blood immediately began to snake down his temple, stark against his white hair.

Maksim hissed, his hand flying to his head. "Ah... you little..."

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Kit panicked, his hands fluttering. "Don't sue me! I have three dollars and a half-eaten sandwich to my name! Where’s the first aid? Where’s the—"

Maksim gestured weakly toward a sleek cabinet at the far end of the room. Kit turned on his heel and sprinted, but the universe had other plans. His worn-out sneakers, slick with bathroom condensation and his own loose laces, betrayed him.

WHAM.

Kit tripped over his own feet and landed flat on his face, his forehead bouncing off the plush rug.

"Fucking... waste... day... of... my... life," Kit muffled into the carpet. He scrambled up, rubbing his nose. "Lucky I don't have a concussion. But you? You're a mess."

As he fumbled with the first aid kit, Kit’s brain started doing what it did best: The Math. He began a mental tally of the "Inconvenience Fees" he was going to slap on Anton’s desk.

* Kit’s Official Compensation Invoice List:

Base Performance F*e: $15,000 (Non-negotiable)

Hazard Pay: $5,000 (For breathing in a localized thunderstorm)

Chiropractic F*e: $2,000 (For carrying a human refrigerator)

Emotional Distress: $3,000 (For being licked like a lollipop)

Physical Trauma: $1,000 (For the "Shoelace-to-Face" incident)

Mental Health Day: $2,500 (To forget this man exists)

"Are you trying to let me die here?!" Maksim’s voice roared from the tub, snapping Kit out of his financial daydream.

The Alpha was slumped in the tub, the automatic sensors having triggered a waterfall of ice-cold water. His five-figure suit was already soaked through, clinging to his massive chest as he shivered, his breathing still ragged and his eyes still dangerously red.

"Hold your ruts I’m coming, I’m coming!" Kit yelled back, clutching a bottle of antiseptic.

"Keep your designer pants on! Or off! Whatever! Just stop shouting!"

Kit leaned over the edge of the obsidian tub, finally smoothing down the edge of a waterproof bandage over the cut on Maksim’s forehead. He stood back, wiping a bead of sweat from his own brow.

"There. You're patched up. You look like a very expensive, very angry unicorn," Kit muttered. He looked down at the water, which was now nearly overflowing. "Why the hell are you still looking like that? Your eyes are literally glowing redder than my lipstick. Isn't the water cold enough?"

To check, Kit plunged his hand into the tub. He yanked it back a millisecond later, his skin stinging.

"MOTHERF—!" Kit hissed, shaking his hand violently. "Shit! That’s hot as hell! It's like a boiling cauldron in there!"

He glared at the faucet. The lever was shoved all the way to the blue "Cold" side. He toggled it back and forth, but the water hitting the surface was clearly ice-cold. He looked back at Maksim, who was slumped in the tub, the steam rising off his shoulders as if he were a piece of hot iron being quenched.

"Wait... the water is cold, but you're heating it up?" Kit's eyes went wide. "What are you, a human microwave? Just how high is your temperature right now?"

Kit paused, the gears in his head finally turning as he looked at the sheer opulence of the room. "I didn't catch your name. Did you say Soko-something earlier? Please, for the love of my sanity, don't tell me you're a Sokolov."

Maksim didn't answer with words. Instead, he let out a low, pained groan and began to peel the soaked, ruined fabric of his designer suit jacket off his shoulders.

His movements were heavy, his muscles rippling under the wet white shirt that was now practically transparent.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Kit yelled, throwing his hands up to shield his eyes. "I didn't say 'strip'! I said 'tell me you're not a Sokolov'! As in the Sokolovs who own the country and probably this oxygen I'm breathing!"

Maksim let out a dark, ragged smirk, his red eyes burning through the steam. "How the hell are you asking me that now?" he rasped, his voice dropping into a guttural vibration. "You are in my penthouse... in my bathroom... and I am in my Rut. My pheromones are at their absolute peak, Persicheck. Any other living thing in this room would be unconscious or screaming in heat."

He leaned his head back against the marble, his white hair plastered to his forehead. "And yet, you stand there... complaining about the water temperature. Release the drain. Now. This water is useless."

"Fine, fine! Releasing the water!" Kit grumbled, twisting the gold dial. The boiling water began to swirl down the drain with a loud gurgle. "But once you're cooled down, Mr. White Eyes, we are having a very long talk about my 'Mental Distress' compensation. You're basically a walking health hazard."

As the hot water emptied, the ice-cold spray from the faucet began to hit Maksim's chest again, causing a fresh cloud of steam to erupt.

The Alpha's breathing hitched, his hands gripping the edges of the tub so hard the stone groaned.

The ice-cold water hitting the tub was already starting to hiss and steam again, the surface bubbling as if Maksim were a living heating element.

Maksim didn't wait for permission. With a series of wet, heavy thuds, he shed the remainder of his clothes, kicking the ruined white shirt and silk trousers over the side of the obsidian tub. He sat there, completely exposed, his skin flushed a deep, feverish red under the freezing spray.

Kit’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. He had seen naked Alphas before—it was part of the job at the Velvet Fantasy—but he had never seen a Sokolov unmasked. Maksim was a masterpiece of violent, predatory architecture; every muscle was corded and defined, his thighs thick enough to crush stone, and his dick....

Kit’s jaw literally dropped. He forgot to breathe. He had spent years in the department where he sold the idea of sex, but he had never actually followed through.

He was a virgin in a world of professional sin, and looking at the thick, vein-pulsing reality of Maksim stroking himself with a desperate, heavy hand, Kit’s brain didn't just short-circuit—it melted.

"Close your mouth, Persicheck," Maksim rasped, his voice a guttural vibration that made the water in the tub ripple. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

He didn't stop. His hand moved fast and hard, his knuckles white as he gripped himself, his head lolling back against the marble. The Ozone scent was so thick now Kit could almost taste the electricity on his tongue.

"I... I..." Kit stammered, his knees hitting the plush rug as he knelt by the tub, unable to look away. "You're... that's not human. That's a weapon. I’m a performer! I don’t do... that."

Maksim’s red eyes snapped open, locking onto Kit with a terrifying, lucid intensity.

"Do you know why you are here?" Maksim growled, his breathing coming in jagged, pained bursts. "I don't fuck Omegas for pleasure during my Rut. I ruin them. They faint. They have seizures. Their bodies literally shut down because they cannot handle the Molecular Pressure of a Sokolov in heat. My assistant searched for the one person who wouldn't break. That was you."

Maksim reached out, his wet, burning hand grabbing the front of Kit’s red silk bunny costume, pulling him flush against the edge of the tub.

"I have a thousand ways to ruin your life, Little Ghost," Maksim hissed, his face inches from Kit's. "I can make sure you never find work in this city or this entire world again. I can make sure your club is boarded up by noon. I can make you disappear into a cell and forget what the sun looks like."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing Kit's ear, his voice a low-frequency threat that made Kit's thighs tremble.

"So here is the deal. Either you let me fuck that hole of yours for a few hours until this fire goes out, I pay you a fortune, and we part ways... or I destroy everything you've ever touched. Choose, Persicheck. My patience is burning away with this water."

Kit looked down at the Alpha’s hand, then up into those bleeding red eyes. His "broken" biology was acting up again—that strange, wet heat pooling between his legs, making him feel heavy and dizzy.

He was a virgin facing a monster, but the threat in Maksim's voice was just as real as the heat coming off his skin.

"A few hours?" Kit whispered, his voice shaking as he looked at the massive, pulsing length Maksim was still stroking. "You... you're serious? You'll just pay me and let me go and it's just sex..... right? Nothing but sex and then you'll pay me we'll never see each other again!?"

"You have my word, I Fuck you and then pay you and you get lost" Maksim growled, his grip on Kit's silk costume tightening. "And I need it now. I'm at the limit. Choose persicheck"