𝗞ai ran a towel over his head, half-assedly drying the ruffled curls he'd probably be too lazy to style. He tossed the blue thing in the hamper and bent over to grab his boxers and jeans, getting ready for Mason to come home so they could spend the day together and hopefully have time to swing by his apartment so he could meet the baby.
As he pulled his jeans over his hips and began to latch his favorite black belt around his waist, his ears perked up, moving on their own. Without so much as turning his head, without so much as taking a pause in his movements, he peered out of the corner of his eye at the door of the bedroom.
He remembered shutting it close when he went for his shower.
Now somehow, it was wide open.
Kai waited until he saw the shadows dance in the hallway just outside before he turned. He kept a placid expression stuck to his face, and pursed his lips, singing a tune that couldn't only be Rockwell's Somebody's Watching Me.
He knew that it wasn't Mason because he could sense when Mason was around. He could smell the scent of his husband before he walked into any room. He could feel the light and warmth that emulated the moment he entered a new space.
This feeling was cold and calculated. Like it was supposed to remain secret.
Kai pushed his feet into a pair of socks, purposely sitting on the further end of the bed for two reasons. The first was because he wanted to let whoever was out there think that his guard was down. That the twenty-three years of assassination training was all for naught. And the second was because of what sat caked on the floor just by the end ledge of the bed.
Mason had noticed it this morning while tossing clothes on and brushing his teeth, mistaking the small pool for missed toothpaste. Being as late as he already was, Mason merely brushed it off, gave him a soppy kiss, and ran out the door.
Kai knew better.
He knew better than to alert his husband, and he knew what the hell it was.
And considering Mason swallowed his own in both of his holes the night before it appeared, and in the shower, he knew it didn't belong to either of them. Mason had fallen asleep before him, and with the workout they shared, there was no way—no reason—for Mason to pleasure himself.
Kai knew that he was alone in the house.
Jase was AWOL because of the funeral tomorrow, Mason and Blake were seeing their child, and Rueben had taken Rayne to the graveyard with Matteo to see where they buried "Lilly". Even if it wasn't her body, Matteo had mentioned wanting to see it for sentimental reasons he chose not to elaborate on.
So if they were all gone, and Emiko was babysitting Ruby and Tripp, there was no explanation for another person to be sharing the four walls with him. No reason at all aside from creepily stalking him—or mistaking him for another male that would just as easily be disposed to such a vice.
Kai pulled the laces on his shoes, slipping into them and tying, not bothering with a shirt, before he grabbed the door and pulled it open. He almost laughed at the fact that no one was there because it was so obvious that whoever decided to creep on him was doing a poor job.
He rounded the corner of the hallway and stepped into the kitchen/living room area, not surprised at all to see the crumpled blonde curls attempting to mask themselves in the cushions of the couch. But he knew Maverick was watching, so he pretended as if he had no idea what he'd just been up to, and entered the kitchen, reaching for an apple.
There were two ways he could deal with the trampy nuisance, and with his better judgment, he knew that if his husband returned to the house only to find a corpse, he would find himself the newest divorcee of Los Angeles.
So he chose option two.
Kai bit into the apple and mused the sound of his Converse on the hardwood as he closed the gap between his stance and the back of the couch. He held the fruit with his thumb and pointer finger and used the rest of his two hands to lean against the harsh fabric.
Maverick's nose was buried in a book, glasses leaning on his nose.
He blinked up at the same time Kai flashed a smile.
"Hey, Ick. What're you doing here?"
"Waiting for Rueben to get home," he replied too coolly.
"What for?"
"Details regarding the funeral tomorrow."
Kai replied with a hmm. Maverick frowned. But the look didn't linger because Maverick was too focused on pulling his legs out of the way while Kai hooked his body over the back of the couch and landed in the center with a plop.
"A little warning next time would be nice," Maverick mumbled.
"Sorry," Kai took another bite and cocked his head, "Whatcha reading?"
"A book," he rolled his eyes.
"Am I bothering you, Ick?"
"That nickname is," he sighed, "Why are you even here? I thought you were supposed to be at the hospital with Mason to meet his kid. And why don't you have a shirt on?"
Bingo.
It took him all of three seconds to have Maverick crumble like cornbread in his palm—it took him less to force him to be the bird eating out of it.
"Opted out," Kai smiled, "What's wrong?—do I look bad without one?"
He watched with curiosity as Maverick looked up from the words on paper to search his eyes. When he got no answer, no protracted emotion within to prescribe a medical explanation for Kai's sudden interest in him, he lowered his vision. His eyes hungrily scoured the rivets and dips of his abs, the slickness of his v-line.
To anyone else, it would look like his lip was curling up in disgust, but Kai had spent plenty of months alongside him—months in which he spent his time ogling his husband—he knew his tells like the back of his hand. And he intended to exploit every one of them.
"I asked you something," Kai spoke, using the same demanding tone Mason loved.
Maverick startled, "N-no! Y-you," he cleared his throat, "You look fine."
Kai leaned forward, abandoning his apple on the glass table to their right. Maverick looked at him like he had three heads—like he was questioning his new desire to be so close to him—and Kai reveled in it. He wanted to confuse him. Manipulate him. Contort his sensations into a play-thing.
"W-what're you doing?" Mav stuttered.
"I want to see what you're reading."
Kai gently grabbed the top of the book, pulling it toward himself in an act so quick, it had the pages tumbling out of his hands. Maverick reached down to grab it, to pick it up, and Kai played along. He stretched down at the same time and purposely bumped their fingers together.
He continued the act even when Maverick's fingers held mostly onto the spine of the book, rather than his own. Kai stared down his aquamarine eyes even when it was back in his lap. He didn't move his hand. Rather he kept it there, inches away from his crotch, but still delicately touching the hardened edges of his palms.
"I've got it," Maverick said quietly after another minute.
"Of course," Kai replied smoothly, slanting back into the couch.
Maverick's innocent glance turned into something different as he moved. It melted into pointed fingers and an accusatory-flecked glace. Overturned eyebrows and consequential lip indentations. Kai plainly blinked at him, not showing enough reaction for him to decipher.
He could see how much it pissed him off—he could see the retort he was forming underneath his ribcage almost as strong as Kai could feel the laughter bubbling behind his own.
"What're you trying to accomplish here?" Mav bit out.
"Nothing," Kai shrugged.
"You must be playing at something."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Kai let out a breath and reached for his apple, standing up again. He lifted and dropped his shoulders, turning his back to Maverick in a way that would have him wanting him to leave, and at the same time, beg to understand what was written on his face.
"I was trying to be friendly for Mason's sake, but it seems you don't want that."
He heard Maverick's shoes hit the ground as he stood up, but he still didn't turn. He just waltzed into the kitchen and tossed his half-eaten apple into the compost bucket.
"I want to be your friend," Maverick admitted.
"My friend?" he rolled his tongue over the words.
"Yeah," he laughed nervously, "We can do that, right? For Mason?"
Kai finally gave him what he wanted and spun on his heel. He plastered on the gaze he reserved for one person—he pretended as if the face he was staring at was paired with black hair and blue eyes—it was the only way he'd be able to get through this.
He bridged the gap between their bodies, taking extra steps because the more he walked, the more Maverick backed up until his spine inevitably crashed into a wall. Kai didn't stop moving until their chests were half a finger's length away from each other.
Kai barely had two inches on him, so when he moved his head sideways to investigate more of Maverick's features, or at least pretend to, they remained at eye level. The more he stared, the more he understood why Maverick liked to play this game with Mason.
The more he observed, the more he relished in the fact that Mason never slipped into his rabbit hat—he never allowed himself to be a one-pony trick.
"Just friends?" Kai asked.
"Y-yes."
Kai stepped closer—close enough that his chest was rubbing against the fabric of Mav's shirt. He didn't let his nose twitch at the unfamiliar cologne that tickled his nostrils, or at the fact that his breath was not as minty fresh as his husband's.
Instead, he took one hand and dragged it up the side of Maverick's jeans, grinning when he stilled. It worked on his behalf because, to Mav, it looked like he was getting what he wanted all along—and to Kai, it was just another kink in the knot he was attempting to unravel.
"What if I don't want to be just friends?"
Kai's fingers reached the waistband of his pants. He dragged the pad of it across the entirety of his hot waist, pretending as if he was soaking in the desire pooling on the edge of his dick as well as the tension that was hardening around his navel.
"You have Mason," he whispered.
"I do," Kai obliged, sliding his nose across his collarbones, "But I want you, too."
"You're lying."
Kai smiled against his neck, wetting his lips enough to entice Mav, but not enough that he would have to put any actual action into teasing him. Maverick inadvertently raised to his tippy-toes, leveling their faces again, but Kai didn't remove himself from his neck.
He latched a hand onto his waist and pulled him close. He hid the disgust he felt at the feeling of his cock brushing against his freshly cleaned body and continued the game.
"What?—you don't want me?"
"It's not that—"
"I know you've always had your eyes on Mason, but he's a bottom," Kai nuzzled his way up to his jaw, to his chin, and paused their lips just shy of each other, "I can pleasure you better, baby."
"You don't mean that."
"Just say you don't want it," Kai pushed a hand through his hair and yanked, tilting his head in the way that had his Adam's apple ready to burst, "I can handle rejection."
"That's not what I'm saying."
"Tell me what you want, Mav," he teased.
Kai felt him shift on his feet. Felt his hands slowly crawl up the length of his biceps. He allowed the goosebumps of abhorrence to descend his skin because he knew that Maverick would take it as something else like he did with everything else.
"It was you, wasn't it," he sighed, "On the floor?"
Maverick's breathing increased, the beat of his heart pounding against his chest. Kai didn't let go of him, and instead stepped closer, releasing him of any remaining movement. He had him trapped like a fly in his web and he was just seconds from devouring him.
"Don't worry, baby," Kai breathed, "I'm not mad."
Maverick stopped shaking, "You're not?"
There was his answer. For some fucking reason, Maverick had come into their shared space and done that all over the floor. But that's not what bothered him. If he wanted to be a fucking creep, that was his right as long as he accepted the painful death that was to come his way.
What he couldn't understand was why he didn't wake up.
But Kai knew that if he pressed it, Maverick would see through his gig.
This far in, it wasn't worth it.
"No," he continued, "If you wanted in with us, you could've asked."
"I have—"
Kai shut him up with a finger to lips, and a shh.
He moved in closer, brushing his lips ever-so-slightly against Maverick's, giving him enough of a physical reaction that he didn't see through the ruse yet.
Kai reached behind his back and grabbed the knife he meticulously tucked in the waistband of his boxers and withdrew it. He wasn't going to kill him—not yet—he needed more proof, more backup. But he could hurt him in all the right ways.
"I'm not mad at you," Kai nodded, "If I had to describe what I felt, it would have to be pissed," he watched the way Maverick's eyes gave away his understanding, felt his squirm, but he locked him in place, "I would call it disgusted. I would call you a sick fucking rapist."
"I didn't do it—!"
"You just admitted it," Kai laughed, dropping the act.
"You manipulated me!"
But he just kept laughing. Laughing and laughing until his voice grew hoarse and he felt like if he didn't do what he needed to, his anger would have him producing a stage four murder scene—which, despite his desires—was the last thing his friends needed.
Kai moved close and slammed the knife right into Maverick's side, purposely making sure he didn't knick the area in which his kidney might lay. He watched with delight as Maverick's whimpers transformed into a breathy sort of betrayal. He reeled in the way his eyes dilated—the way his hand gripped Kai's wrist.
"If you ever lay another hand on my husband or me, I will rip your heart from your chest and watch you bleed out," he tore the knife out, to which Maverick cried, "—the only reason you're not dead yet is because I don't have proof other than my word. But I'll get it. And then I will kill you."
"You can try," Maverick groaned, holding his wound.
"With the way you just melted for me, I can tell it won't be hard."
Kai moved away and smirked at the way Maverick fell against the ground like a sack of potatoes. He twirled the knife around his five fingers and knelt down in front of him, catching it so the blade was pointing outwards as always.
"Clean this up," he gestured to the trail of blood smudging the wall, "I reckon this is something you'd like to keep between us for now, eh?"
Kai stood and purposely kicked his leg, shifting his body in a way that produced more blood.
"Oh, and if you tell Mason about what you did, don't bother groveling."
"Why's that?" Mav sneered.
"Dead bodies don't talk."
He snickered the entire way down the hallway to take a second shower.
It was less than an hour later that Mason and the rest of the family returned to the house. He only knew this because as Kai sat down on the edge of the bed to mindlessly scroll, their bedroom door flung open and slammed into the wall.
Mason's bright face told him two things. One, that his daughter was perfectly healthy, and two, that Maverick had the ability to be a well-behaved creatin when it mattered after all.
Kai was barely given another second to get his fill of his husband's gorgeous face before the door was slammed and Mason was jumping into his lap. His hands pressed against Kai's shoulders, taking him down until his back was level with the mattress.
He smiled against Mason's mouth as he bent over and curtained their faces with his long hair, blanketing them in their own personal fantasy. Kai grabbed onto his hips, sighing into his kiss. This was where he belonged. Where he needed to exist. A place to die with happiness.
"What was that for?" he used both of his hands to push Mason's hair out of the way.
His eyes traced the whites of Mason's teeth as his grin returned. Kai kept his hands on his face, keeping his hair back, but also giving him the reprieve he'd needed since getting into the altercation with Maverick.
"I have a surprise," Mason cheekily smiled.
"I do love those," Kai copied his expression.
Mason's joy only grew as he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. Kai's eyes magnified as he turned it around, presenting a series of black, calligraphy writing. Embedded under layers of official jargon sat their names.
"Is that our marriage certificate?"
Mason nodded.
"And—and your name is—"
"Yes," he beamed, "Yes, yes, yes."
Kai clutched his hips and spun them, loving the way Mason's giggle echoed off the four walls of their safe space. Mason squirmed like he was tickling him as Kai found his favorite place between his legs. He wrapped himself in them, feeling the warmth of his person radiate against his skin.
"Mason Alveréz," Kai repeated.
"We're officially Mr. and Mr. Alveréz."
Kai kissed him deeply. Inhaling him. Memorizing him.
Devoting his life and purpose and his drives and fears and loves all to the man tucked tightly against his beating heart. Because there was no one else who'd been able to defrost his heart, keep him on his toes, and continue to pump blood through his raggedy organs like his husband could.
He owed more than his life to him.
"We should celebrate," Kai breathed heavily against Mason's mouth, reaching for his belt.
"Celebrate what?" Mason gasped, lifting his hips.
"You're an Alveréz now," he stated, pulling at his clothes until they were two humans exploring one another for the first time, "Now shut up and let me show you what it means to be one. Let me show you what it means to be irrevocably mine."
Mason's response was a moan as Kai soaked him with lube and slid in.