ENGLISH VERSION - Second Star to the Right (Mikey Bonten x OC)

Chapter 21: The Theory of Signals

POV AYANA

TW: Smut

His bare chest burns against my skin, his hands moving over my hips with an intoxicating slowness. My breathing grows shallow. My clothes are scattered somewhere around the room, but I can't remember how they got there—or how I even ended up in his bedroom.

Every kiss, every touch, every shiver he provokes in me pushes me dangerously close to the point of no return. It's not the alcohol making me feel like this. It's him. His breath on my skin, his hands exploring my curves, his lips on my neck. I feel the imprint of his words deep in my mind:"I didn't mean to fall in love with you." "In love with you."

I don't even recognize my own voice as a whisper escapes me. "Mikey..."

"Shh," he commands, pressing a finger to my lips to silence me.

His lips trail down my torso, brushing against my stomach and finally finding their way to the intimacy of my thighs. His hands slide between my legs. My body ignites. I've lost all control of my thoughts, my movements. Nothing else matters but him: his fingers, his tongue. I lose myself in the moment, my nails digging into the sheets.

He hasn't touched me like this since that night in my room, but this time, it's different. More intense, more desperate. As if he's trying to etch this moment into my very being, as if he's afraid everything will collapse the second he lets go. I don't know if it's the alcohol clouding his judgment or if it's something deeper consuming him, but one thing is certain: I have no intention of stopping him.

A searing heat washes over me, suffocating, and just as I feel like everything is about to unravel—Ring... Ring... Ring.

The shrill sound of a phone cuts through the magic. My heart stops. It's definitely not mine—it was confiscated the day I arrived here.

"Mikey..." I murmur to alert him, seeing that he doesn't react.

"Hmm..." he groans, clearly determined to ignore the interruption.

But the ringtone persists, followed by a flood of notifications. Whoever it is, they're not giving up. My foggy mind begins to clear.

"Mikey... your phone."

He finally lifts his head, his lips glistening. His dark eyes meet mine, irritated.

"What?!" he snaps, his tone sharp.

"Someone's calling you..."
"I don't care," he mutters before diving back between my thighs.

Ring... Ring... Ring. The ringtone returns, even louder.

A low growl rumbles in his chest. Mikey abruptly stands, grabbing his phone, and hurls it across the room. The device hits the wall and crashes to the floor with a dull thud. The screen must be shattered. I freeze, wide-eyed.

Before I can say a word, there's a knock at the door. Mikey exhales slowly, running a hand down his face, clearly on the verge of losing it. He pulls the blanket over my head, as if to hide me, and gets up. I hear the door swing open with force.

"Someone better be dead," he growls, his voice icy.

"Soon enough, maybe, because I have a plan" retorts Sanzu's all-too-familiar voice.

Of course, it had to be him. Who else would be so persistent? I poke my head out from under the blanket to see what's happening.

Mikey, still shirtless, stands with his back to me. Sanzu is there, leaning against the doorframe. Even from this distance, it's clear he's high—not just on alcohol. His glassy eyes give him away. When he spots me on the bed, his grin widens.

"And your damn plan can't wait until tomorrow?" Mikey asks, crossing his arms, his patience visibly wearing thin.

Sanzu chuckles softly. "Technically, boss, it's already tomorrow—it's past midnight."

I imagine Mikey must be giving him one of his infamous death stares because Sanzu swallows nervously before continuing.

"I just thought of something. It's risky, but if it works, everything changes." His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he adds with a smirk, "Oh, and we need to talk about Atsushi too."