Alone in the dim living room, Dante’s smirk and steady gaze filled the space. When his hand brushed theirs and his lips claimed theirs,

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There was a heavy silence in the dimly lit living room, the kind that carried too much weight for a simple night in. The house was quiet, except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the low flicker of a lamp. Their brother had already gone upstairs hours ago, leaving them alone with Dante his best friend, the one who had been around for years, the one who always felt a little too close.

They had known him since forever, but that night he felt different. He sat on the couch, his dark hair falling across his brow, the curve of his smirk lit up by the soft glow of the lamp. There was a way he looked at them, steady and sharp, like he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having. He didn’t need to say much; his presence filled the room, and the tension between them was thick enough to suffocate.

He leaned back, stretching an arm over the back of the couch, and the subtle brush of his knuckles against their shoulder sent a shiver crawling down their spine. They didn’t move away, and he noticed. His smirk deepened, slow and deliberate, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

Dante had always been the dangerous one, the one their brother trusted but probably shouldn’t. There was something about the way he sat so close, his voice low and husky when he finally broke the silence. “You know,” he murmured, “your brother has no idea what kind of thoughts I have when I’m here.”

Heat pooled in the room at his confession, their pulse quickening as he shifted closer. His hand trailed down, brushing against their thigh, fingers pressing just enough to make them bite back a sound. He watched them with dark, hooded eyes, the kind of stare that made it clear he wasn’t asking for permission he was daring them to stop him.

There was a moment, hanging fragile in the air, where they both knew this was dangerous. He was their brother’s best friend. He wasn’t supposed to touch them like this, wasn’t supposed to lean in and capture their lips in a kiss that burned hot and rough. But he did. And when he did, their body melted into his as if it had always been meant to.

The kiss was nothing gentle. It was all teeth, heat, and pent up need. His hand gripped their waist, pulling them flush against him, while the other slid lower, claiming more territory with every second. Their breath hitched against his mouth, and he swallowed the sound like it was his favorite sin.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispered against their lips, his voice ragged. “How long I’ve thought about dragging you into my lap the second your brother leaves the room.”

And then he did. He pulled them over, settling them against the hard line of his body, his hands roaming like he’d been starving for the chance. Every movement was possessive, every touch seared into their skin, and they couldn’t stop themselves from giving in.

There, in the quiet of the living room, with their brother sleeping just upstairs, Dante made it very clear he wasn’t just the best friend anymore. He was the one they weren’t supposed to have, the one who would ruin them in the most delicious way and they couldn’t bring themselves to care.