Touch Me Not || Chūya × Fem!Reader

--9

Although she allegedly wasn't a captive of Port Mafia, she was held captive nonetheless by its executive, and the extremity of his capabilities held no boundaries.

Chūya's motives were nowhere clearer than that of fog in high altitude. She found no traces of the clothes she had worn the day prior, and her phone was missing from her person, almost as if he had been deliberately keeping them away from her to isolate herself from the society outside his penthouse.

With his dress shirt still worn over her underwear, she removed herself out of the comfort of his bed, briskly walking out of the room without reason to spend idle amount of time stretching. Outside opened to an interior terrace viewing the space of his living room - couches, a modern coffee table, a large-screen television and decors she could immediately realize her salary wouldn't be able suffice within only a month. Carefully, she made her way downstairs, as the glass staircase did no help to her already disoriented conscience.

It was rather difficult to keep the reminder that she was indeed in Chūya's penthouse apartment, and not in the vestibule of a 5-star hotel. He did fancy the need of elegance in his belongings as if his get-up wasn't enough to elaborate. She would have loved to stay had it not been for the purpose of being restricted within the place. At the view of the vast sky of Yokohama, she concluded that the window wall from the bedroom stretched down to the first floor of his penthouse, and wondered in deafening silence if he ever minded the concept of exhibiting himself to the world.

However, she was still in terms with her decision of leaving. Even with the lack of clothes, knowing the availability of going outside without restriction as his prior words had suggested could make her the very least at ease. She turned to the direction of where she had assumed to be the front door of the apartment, gyrating the doorknob with high hopes.

Locked.

She clicked her tongue in frustration. It appeared to have the requirement of a card scan, to which had her guessing with no doubt that Chūya had it in possession. Was she expected to wait for his return? It was rendered too much of a hassle; there was still a case left unattended that already had her a prime suspect. That aside, she also refused to remain in the undergarments she had worn the day prior, but didn't permit herself to lay practically naked inside the house of a man whose intentions with her were nowhere innocent.

Although, had she been given any other choice?

▪︎▪︎▪︎

6:28PM, nearly two hours and thirty minutes ever since resolving to soak herself in the bathtub for a quiet state of mind. The bathroom was, in approximate measure, comparable to the size of her own apartment bedroom; the floor was a combination of quartz stones and resin a dilute shade of cream, whereas the walls were gold-tinted translucent mirrors with the exception of one side, which consisted the sink, drawers, and shelves displaying towels.

She enjoyed the treatment in courtesy of the body products inside the bathroom - it smelled so much of Chūya at the time he had pulled her close to him at the bar with the mix of his distinctively expensive perfume; his scent was a strange allure to her libidinous anticipation, quite frankly.

Her consciousness denied her of any other occurrences the moment thereafter. No matter how difficult it was to accept, there were no valid excuses to avoid thinking the possibility of having her drink spiked by the executive.

Recognizing the undesired protruding of boredom, she stood up from the stillness of the water, small waves crashing against the porcelain enameled steel and back to her rose oil-aromatized skin. She wrapped her midriff with a vacant towel, and after squeezing excess water off her hair, proceeded to open the bathroom’s door without the assumption of Chūya's presence.

At the moment of seeing his frame, though, sitting on the bed with absolute nonchalance, she retreated and shut the door quite suddenly. The sounds of his shoes against the floor came prominent, and soon she felt the subtle vibration of his knuckles on the door.

"Sweetheart, open up."

"I..." (y/n) trailed, blood rushing to her cheeks in embarrassment, "I'm naked."

A low chuckle emitted from his throat. "I don't mind that at all, but I have a surprise for you. Come on, baby, don't make me force this open."

The request came out more of a demand due to the threat said at the end, nonetheless she supposed she had not much deliverance when it came to him. Reluctantly, she did as told, exposing large portions of her skin due to how skimpy the towel was. He ravished her entirely with his eyes.

"W-well, what is it?"

Her quivering voice took him out of his reverie. Upon seeing the modest view of the way she contracted her arms tightly, creating therefore a prominent cleavage in between her mounds, he licked his lips in fervent anticipation.

"I've been longing to go home now that you're here."

Before she could respond that no, she wasn't living with him, neither did she have plans to, he took her wrist and pulled her towards him in an embrace.

"I'm sorry for losing my cool earlier morning, baby." He muttered. "I'll make it up to you in a moment."

He dragged her out of the bathroom, arousing goosebumps on her skin due to the chilling air of his apartment. Once she settled down (still semi-drenched) on the mattress, he took two of the shopping bags he had dropped aside and gave it to her rather casually.

She needed not to question to whom it was for; the bags contained evidently expensive undergarments - was it actually lingerie? - and he appeared to be contented with her expected reaction. From the looks of it, the articles were almost if not exactly her size. How had he been knowledgeable of it?

"How did you know my size?" She questioned in shock.

"I've had a hard time choosing which color you favored, so I decided picking all wouldn’t be bad." He continued, audaciously and downright ignoring what she had asked. "But I personally prefer black."

The unnerving feeling of trepidation settled in a form of a painful churn in her stomach. It reminded her so much of the predictive feeling she had experienced before revealing the disgraced body of her case's victim that had been within the wall for likely about a week.

"Chūya..." she began, "you didn't answer me."

Then again, her words were a ghost to his ears. "Now, I don't mind if you prefer to be naked, but I made all the effort of choosing for you. Can you at least try them out, (y/n)?"