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Bison liked the quiet best—the held breath of a place that didn’t belong to him. The apartment smelled expensive, like glass and chemicals. He slipped through the shadows with the confidence of someone who had done this before. He wasn’t here for the things, not really. He was here because it thrilled him to steal what was behind locked doors.
Quick, silent, his small frame darted past the window’s pale spill of moonlight. Dark hair brushed his forehead, sweat cooling at his temples. His heartbeat wasn’t fear. It was hunger.
The drawer gave under his hand with a satisfying click. Jewelry, watches—he slipped a thin gold band into his pocket, fingers nimble. Pretty little things for a pretty thief.
“Enjoying yourself?”
The voice froze him. Low. Calm. Too calm.
Bison turned.
The man stood in the doorway, tall enough to make the air shift, lenses flashing in the dark. Dr. Karn, in his own damn home, looking at him like he wasn’t surprised at all.
Bison’s mouth went dry. Not from fear. From the way Karn’s gaze held him—clinical, amused, dangerous.
“Well,” Bison drawled, lips curling, “looks like the doctor’s in.”
He didn’t bolt. He liked being caught.
Karn leaned against the doorframe as if this were a mild curiosity, as if Bison were a stray cat nosing around his kitchen.
Bison tilted his head, smile sharp. “You always greet your guests like this? Or am I special?”
“Guests knock. Thieves crawl through windows.” Karn’s gaze flicked to the glint of gold. “And that one doesn’t even suit you.”
Bison slid the ring onto his pinky, flashing his hand like a flourish. “Oh, I make everything suit me.”
Karn adjusted his glasses, studying him like a specimen under glass. “Small. Quick. Pretty.” The word landed like an insult. “But careless. That’s how people like you get hurt.”
Bison laughed softly, stepping closer. “You threatening me, doc? Because I have to warn you—I get hard when people do that.”
Karn’s silence was heavier than a raised fist.
“You broke into the wrong home,” he said at last, voice flat as a scalpel’s edge. “Most men in this city would have put a bullet in you by now.”
“And yet,” Bison purred, “you’re still talking. Which makes me wonder…” His tongue flicked across his lower lip. “Do you like having me here?”
A crack in Karn’s composure—slight, but there. Interest.
Bison felt it like oxygen.
“You don’t scare me,” he murmured. “And you don’t look scared of me either. So what is this? A staring contest? A game? Should I be worried about what you want to do with me?”
“Worried?” Karn’s voice dropped to a murmur. “No. Anticipating, perhaps.”
The air tightened. Karn’s mind dissected him, and fuck if Bison didn’t like it.
“You’re not calling the cops,” Bison said lazily, leaning against the wall. “You’re not throwing me out. You’re just watching. So maybe I broke in, but you’re the one keeping me here.”
“Or maybe I’m deciding the best way to make you bleed.”
The words hit like a hand at his throat. Bison grinned, sharp and hungry. “I’d let you.”
Karn stepped into the room at last, closing the distance. His height dwarfed Bison’s frame, but Bison didn’t move back. He thrived on the contrast.
“You’re tall,” Bison said, eyes trailing deliberately up his body. “But I bet you’ve never had someone like me this close.”
“Someone like you?”
“Pretty. Reckless. Bad for your health. The kind you can’t resist even when you know you should.”
Karn’s laugh was soft, almost soundless. “You think you’re irresistible?”
“I know I am. Otherwise you’d have shoved me out the window already. But here we are.”
“You think being desired keeps you safe?”
“I don’t want safe.”
Something shifted. Karn adjusted his sleeve—precise, rehearsed.
“Got something sharp up there, doc?” Bison teased. “You’re dying to pull it out, aren’t you?”
“You’d like that.”
“I’d love it.”
The silence crackled, dangerous as a lit match in dry grass.
“You don’t know me,” Karn said evenly. “Don’t know what I’ve done. Don’t know what I’d do to someone stupid enough to crawl through my window.”
“And yet you’re still talking.” Bison stepped in until their shoes nearly touched. Close enough to see himself reflected in Karn’s glasses. “Which tells me one thing—you want to find out how far I’ll let you go.”
Karn leaned down, breath grazing Bison’s cheek. “And how far is that?”
“As far as you can take me.”
The stillness broke. Karn’s hand shot forward, fisting in Bison’s collar, slamming him back against the wall. The impact rattled the frame, stole his breath—then he laughed, sharp, wild.
“There he is,” Bison whispered. “Knew you had it in you.”
Cold metal kissed his throat.
Bison froze—not from fear, but from the rush of heat flooding his body. The knife pressed just under his jaw, not hard enough to cut. Not yet.
“Shit,” he breathed, voice cracked with arousal. “You really do want to play.”
“You’ll bleed,” Karn murmured.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
With a sudden twist, Bison shoved back, spinning Karn against the wall instead. The air filled with the scrape of bodies, sharp as flint.
Bison’s hand slid to the knife, pressing it just enough to break the surface. A thin line of red blossomed.
Karn’s breath hitched. His eyes—usually so controlled—flared with something raw.
Bison leaned in, tongue tracing the blood down Karn’s neck. Metallic. Sharp. Delicious.
He pulled back grinning, crimson smeared at the corner of his mouth. “Tastes good.”
For the first time, hunger broke through Karn’s composure.
Bison’s tongue dragged back slow, savoring the copper tang before he bit down at the edge of Karn’s throat, sharp enough to bruise. Karn didn’t flinch. If anything, his hand curled in Bison’s hair, pulling him closer, offering up more skin like he wanted to see how far the little thief would go.
“Oh, you’re fucked up,” Bison muttered against his neck, teeth scraping. “I like that.”
His hand left the knife and landed across Karn’s cheek in a stinging slap. The sound cracked in the still room. Karn’s head jerked with the force, glasses skewed, but when he looked back, his mouth was curved—dark amusement tugging at the edges.
Bison grinned wide, feral. “Yeah. That’s it. You like being roughed up, don’t you?”
“Do it properly,” Karn said, voice low, steady, like he was prescribing a dosage.
The command sent heat straight through Bison’s gut. He grabbed Karn by the collar, dragged him forward, and shoved him down onto the couch. Karn’s long body folded into it easily, glasses slipping lower on his nose. He didn’t resist, just stretched himself out like a man offering a puzzle: show me what you’ll do with this.
Bison straddled his lap, grinding down hard enough to make Karn’s breath catch. Their clothes pressed hot, friction sharp through fabric. Karn’s hands bracketed Bison’s hips, not guiding, not controlling, simply holding him there, letting him ride.
Bison slapped him again, harder this time, the sting blooming red across his cheek. Karn’s jaw flexed, but his gaze stayed fixed, steady, alive with something sharp and hungry.
Bison’s cock throbbed at the sight. He leaned in, lips brushing Karn’s ear. “I could break you.”
“You won’t,” Karn murmured, his voice a calm taunt. “You want me breathing.”
Bison laughed breathlessly, grinding down harder, rolling his hips against the doctor’s lap until the friction turned molten. Karn’s composure cracked just enough—a sharp inhale, a flicker of heat in his eyes—as Bison bit into his lip hard enough to taste iron.
The rhythm built, brutal and messy. Slaps, bites, bruises painting their skin, each jolt of pain only feeding the pleasure. Bison moved against him with wild hunger, their bodies straining, grinding, chasing the edge.
Karn’s fingers dug bruises into Bison’s thighs, anchoring him as he rode the friction raw. Breath tangled between them, sharp, hot, ragged.
Bison came first, sharp and violent, head thrown back with a ragged cry. The sound dragged Karn over with him, his composure finally breaking as his body shuddered hard beneath the thief’s.
For a moment, the room spun with the aftermath—sweat, breath, blood, the reek of iron and heat. Bison collapsed forward, laughing against Karn’s mouth, sharp and breathless.
“Guess I do make everything suit me.”
Karn’s mouth was split, bloody where Bison had bitten, but his eyes gleamed like glass catching fire. “We’ll see how long you last.”
Bison shifted up just enough that their mouths hovered a breath apart. Karn’s hands were still on his hips, loose but ready, his pulse a visible beat at the hollow of his throat.
Bison smirked, slow and cruel. “Bet you thought I’d kiss you.”
Karn’s eyes, dark and glassy behind askew frames, didn’t waver. “Thought you might try.”
“I don’t kiss men I rob.” Bison’s thumb traced the fresh split in Karn’s lower lip, pressed just enough to make him flinch. “But I’ll remember the taste.”
Something sharp flickered in Karn’s gaze, interest shading to something dangerous. “Come back, then. Finish what you started.”
Bison laughed, quiet and mean. “Careful, doc. You invite wolves, you get eaten.”
He slipped off Karn’s lap with liquid grace, plucked the gold band from his own finger, and set it lightly on Karn’s chest—mocking, intimate. Then he leaned in one last time, close enough that Karn could smell the sweat and copper still clinging to his skin.
“Next time,” Bison whispered, voice a low rasp, “lock your damn window.”
Karn’s hand twitched, like he might grab him back, but he didn’t. He only watched as Bison slipped into the shadows, a dark smear across the quiet apartment.
By the time Karn sat up, breath rough and glasses crooked, Bison was gone.
Slowly, the doctor smiled.