13.

---

Noah stepped into his classroom, expecting the usual morning calm. Instead, his breath hitched.

His desk—no, his entire desk—was buried beneath an overwhelming display of gifts.

Sleek black boxes, wrapped in crimson ribbons, stacked neatly on top of one another, each one labeled with a handwritten tag. The scent of rich leather and something darkly intoxicating filled the air, the presence of him lingering in every detail.

Noah swallowed hard.

At the very top of the pile sat an envelope, his name scrawled across it in Kieran’s familiar, looping script.

"For my sweet little professor,

You belong to me. I want you wrapped in my gifts, touched by my hands, ruined in my name.

Kieran."

A shiver ran through him. He knew he shouldn’t open them, shouldn’t encourage this twisted obsession, but his fingers disobeyed him.

The first box contained a silk shirt—black, thin, dangerously sheer. He could already imagine how scandalous it would look against his pale skin.

The second, a pair of tailored slacks, expensive beyond reason. The kind of thing he’d never buy for himself, yet Kieran had chosen it as if he knew exactly what would make him look irresistible.

Then came a smaller box. Noah hesitated before lifting the lid.

Lace.

Black lace lingerie—delicate, sinful, meant to cling to his body like temptation itself. His cheeks flamed as he shoved the box aside, but there was more.

Inside lay a pair of diamond cufflinks, shimmering under the fluorescent lights. Jewelry—, a thin platinum chain with a pendant shaped like a lock,  undeniably expensive.

Then came the books. First editions of classics, leather-bound and pristine, the scent of aged paper and wealth wrapping around him like a trap.

And finally—Noah’s stomach twisted—the last box.

It was heavier.

His breath caught as he opened it.

Inside, polished and sleek, lay a collection of intimate things.

A vibrator. A set of silk restraints. A bottle of rich, scented oil.

And at the very bottom, a note scrawled in that same elegant hand.

"When you're ready, kitten. Use them. Think of me when you do."

Noah let out a shaky breath, his face burning, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk.

This wasn’t love.

This was ownership.

And the worst part?

His body wanted to be owned.

*****

Noah's fingers trembled as he reread the intimate note, heat crawling up his spine.

"When you're ready, kitten. Use them. Think of me when you do."

His entire body burned with mortification. How dare Kieran send him something like this? How dare he assume Noah would even consider—

No. He wouldn’t.

With shaky resolve, he grabbed the scandalous gifts, stuffing them back into their boxes as fast as he could. The books, the clothes, even the—God, he couldn’t even think about those things—he packed them all up.

He had to return them.

Kieran had gone too far this time.

Storming out of the classroom, Noah’s heart pounded with determination, but the closer he got to the field, the more that determination wavered.

The roar of teammates, the rhythmic pounding of feet against the grass—it all melted away the moment he saw him.

Kieran Wolfe.

Shirtless. Wild. Perfect.

His sculpted body glistened under the afternoon sun, every ripple of muscle taut with raw power. Sweat dripped down his sharp jawline, sliding over his collarbone, trailing down the hard ridges of his abs. His toned arms flexed as he wiped his face with the hem of his jersey, the movement effortless, natural—completely unfair.

Noah swallowed hard.

The air thickened.

Kieran was dangerous like this.

His hair, damp and tousled, curled just slightly at the ends, framing his sharp cheekbones and those wolfish, unreadable eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, an untamed force, exuding dominance with every breath he took.

And then—he turned.

Their gazes collided.

Noah froze.

Kieran’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. He knew.

The box in Noah’s hands felt unbearably heavy.

*******

--- Kieran's pov:-

The afternoon sun bore down on the field, heat radiating off the turf as bodies clashed, sweat-slick and unrelenting. Kieran barely felt it. His focus was razor-sharp, but not on the game.

It was on him.

Noah stood at the edge of the field, watching from a distance. He didn’t belong here, not among the chaos, not in the thick, humid air reeking of aggression and exertion. He was too soft, too delicate—too mine.

Kieran smirked darkly, licking the sweat from his lip as he caught the ball with effortless ease, dodging the desperate reach of his teammates.

"Focus, Wolfe!" his coach barked.

Kieran ignored him. His eyes flickered back to Noah.

The little professor had no idea what he did to him. Dressed in his usual neat, buttoned-up shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to tease pale wrists. His long, delicate fingers clutched box , he gave him against his chest, hugging it like a shield. His lips—those lips—pressed together as if he were trying to look unaffected.

But Kieran saw the way his eyes darted toward him. Saw the way he fidgeted under the weight of his gaze.

The moment practice ended, Kieran didn't wait.

He stalked off the field, his jersey damp with sweat, muscles thrumming with adrenaline. He didn't stop until he was towering over Noah, his presence suffocating, his breath hot against that fragile composure.

Noah stiffened. "You're—too close."

Kieran chuckled, low and dangerous. "Am I?"

He reached up, curling his fingers around Noah’s wrist, dragging him closer. The scent of fresh books and something inherently Noah clung to his skin, making Kieran’s pulse pound.

"You shouldn't be here," Noah whispered, trying to sound firm but failing.

Kieran’s grip tightened. "You came to watch me, didn't you?"

Noah's eyes darted away. "I— came to return these.."

"Don’t lie to me, baby." Kieran leaned in, his lips ghosting the shell of Noah’s ear. "I saw the way you looked at me."

Noah trembled, his breath coming shallow and fast. Kieran chuckled, dragging his thumb over the rapid pulse at his throat.

"Do you like seeing me like this?" Kieran mused, his voice thick with amusement. "Sweaty. Rough. Hungry."

Noah swallowed hard. "You're disgusting."

Kieran only grinned. "And yet, you're still standing here."

****

Noah’s face was flushed, his hands gripping the box of gifts like a lifeline. His wide, panicked eyes darted from the scandalous items inside to Kieran’s smirking face.

"I-I can’t take these," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "They’re too expensive, and—"

Kieran took a slow, deliberate step forward, sweat still glistening on his bare chest, muscles tight from practice. His teammates were still on the field, but right now, his world was narrowed down to one thing—Noah.

His kitten.

"And?" Kieran drawled, tilting his head, his eyes dark with amusement.

Noah swallowed hard, stepping back, but there was nowhere to go. Kieran’s body heat was suffocating, his scent—wild and masculine—wrapped around Noah like a cage.

"I… I can’t accept these kinds of gifts," Noah tried again, his voice weaker this time.

Kieran exhaled a soft chuckle, the sound dripping with wicked intent. "You think you have a choice, baby?"

Noah’s breath hitched as Kieran suddenly moved, closing the distance in one swift step. His body pressed flush against Noah’s, trapping him against the wall behind the bleachers.

"You take them," Kieran murmured, his lips brushing over Noah’s ear, his breath hot. "Or I’ll use those little toys on you right here. Right now."

Noah gasped, his body going rigid. "You wouldn’t—"

Kieran’s fingers traced along Noah’s jaw, tilting his face up. His dark, sweat-dampened hair fell into his eyes as he smirked. "Wouldn’t I?"

Noah trembled. He knew Kieran would. He knew he wasn’t bluffing.

Kieran leaned in, his lips grazing Noah’s in a ghost of a kiss before pulling back just enough to watch the helpless panic in his eyes.

"Be a good boy, kitten," Kieran murmured, his voice silk and sin. "Take the gifts. Or I'll make you scream my name in a way you’ll never forget."

He released Noah suddenly, watching with satisfaction as he stumbled back, eyes wide, cheeks flushed.

Kieran licked his lips. "Be a good boy and wait for me after school, kitten."

He turned, walking away without waiting for an answer.

Because they both knew—Noah would be there.

*****

Noah was the last one in the classroom, still flustered, still shaken. The weight of the box sat heavy on his desk, mocking him. His fingers trembled as he touched the expensive books on top, carefully avoiding the other… explicit gifts beneath them.

He should have thrown them away. Should have refused them. But the thought of Kieran’s reaction made his stomach twist into anxious knots.

And just as if summoned by his thoughts, a shadow loomed at the door.

Noah’s breath hitched.

Kieran.

He strolled in casually, his uniform messy from practice, sweat still clinging to his skin. His gaze locked onto Noah like a predator finding its prey, amusement glinting in his dark eyes.

Noah scrambled to stand, but before he could react, Kieran had already reached him, effortlessly leaning against the desk, too close, always too close.

"You didn’t throw them away," Kieran observed, his voice low, taunting. "That’s cute."

Noah’s face burned. "I—I was going to return them—"

Kieran hummed, unconvinced, his eyes dropping to the untouched box. His lips curled into a smirk. "So, tell me, kitten…" He dragged a finger along the edge of the desk, watching Noah with a slow, predatory gaze. "Have you ever used toys before?"

Noah’s heart nearly stopped.

The air was sucked from his lungs. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again—words failing him completely.

Kieran chuckled darkly. "I’ll take that as a no."

Noah stepped back instinctively, but Kieran only followed, closing the distance again, his hand coming up to brush against Noah’s burning cheek.

"So innocent," he mused, voice thick with sinful amusement. "Have you ever even touched yourself, baby?"

Noah let out a strangled noise, completely frozen, his entire body locked in mortified tension.

Kieran laughed.

"God, you’re adorable," he whispered, leaning in until his breath ghosted over Noah’s ear. "Should I teach you how?"

Noah shuddered. "K-Kieran—"

Kieran’s fingers trailed down his arm, his touch light, teasing. "I could show you exactly what to do… what you should imagine when your pretty little hands go lower."

Noah’s knees nearly buckled. "S-Stop," he whispered, but it sounded weak, more like a plea than a demand.

Kieran exhaled a soft chuckle, lips barely brushing the shell of Noah’s ear. "You’ll think of me, won’t you? When you finally give in? When you’re alone, desperate, aching?"

Noah’s breath came in ragged pants, his head spinning.

Kieran smirked. "Don’t worry, kitten," he purred. "I’ll help you..."

*****

Noah was trembling, his back pressed against the desk, his wide, helpless eyes locked onto Kieran’s. His lips were slightly parted, his breath uneven—so easy to break, so easy to ruin.

Kieran grinned, his fingers tilting Noah’s chin up, forcing him to hold his gaze. "You’re so shy, kitten," he murmured, voice thick with amusement. "Have you really never touched yourself properly?"

Noah’s lips quivered. "I—"

Kieran leaned in, brushing his lips against Noah’s ear. "I bet you get all hot and flustered at night," he whispered, voice dripping with wickedness. "Lying in bed, squeezing your thighs together, pretending you don’t want it."

Noah shuddered.

Kieran chuckled darkly. "But now you have all these pretty little toys… just for you."

His fingers trailed down Noah’s arm, slow, teasing, until they reached his wrist. He lifted Noah’s hand, guiding it lower, closer to the heat between them.

Noah let out a sharp gasp when Kieran pressed his hand against his own arousal.

"Feel that?" Kieran breathed, his grip firm as he made Noah palm him through his pants. "That’s what you do to me, baby."

Noah whimpered, his fingers twitching as if trying to pull away, but Kieran only tightened his hold, grinding into his touch.

"You should think of me when you use them," Kieran rasped, his breath ragged now. "Imagine me taking you apart, stretching you open, making you beg."

Noah’s breath hitched.

Kieran groaned softly, his grip possessive, unforgiving. "You’d look so good, kitten, all spread out, writhing, moaning my name while those toys work you open for me."

Noah’s legs nearly gave out.

Kieran smirked, dragging his lips along the side of Noah’s throat. "Would you cry for me, baby?" he murmured. "Would you beg?"

Noah was shaking, overwhelmed, drowning.

Kieran chuckled, dark and sinful, his teeth grazing against Noah’s skin. "One day, I won’t need the toys," he promised, voice thick with hunger. "I’ll ruin you myself."

****

Noah’s heart pounded violently in his chest as Kieran leaned over him, that wicked smirk playing on his lips. His piercing blue eyes glowed with something dark—something possessive—as he traced a single finger down Noah’s trembling arm.

"You’re such a little virgin, aren’t you, baby?" Kieran purred, his voice dripping with amusement. "Untouched. Pure. Just waiting for me to ruin you."

Noah’s breath hitched. His face burned with humiliation, his hands clenching at his sides. "K-Kieran, stop—"

But Kieran wasn’t listening. He tilted his head, his fingers skimming along Noah’s throat, ghosting over the flushed skin. "I bet you get embarrassed just thinking about it," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You’d never let anyone touch you, would you? Only me. Only when I say so."

Noah’s pulse throbbed wildly. He wanted to push him away, wanted to run, but his body betrayed him—weak, frozen beneath Kieran’s looming presence.

And then, without thinking, the words slipped out. "I’m not."

Silence.

Kieran’s smirk vanished. His entire body went still.

Noah realized what he had just said a second too late. His eyes widened in horror. "Wait— I didn’t mean—"

Kieran grabbed his chin, hard. His grip was bruising, his breath slow and dangerous as he forced Noah to meet his gaze.

"What," Kieran said, voice deathly low, "did you just say?"

Noah swallowed thickly, his body trembling under the suffocating weight of Kieran’s fury. "N-Nothing," he stammered, voice barely above a whisper. "I misspoke—"

Kieran growled.

A dark, twisted sound, vibrating from deep within his chest. His fingers tightened around Noah’s jaw, his nails digging in just enough to make Noah whimper.

"You’re lying. , I'll fucking kill him"

Noah’s stomach twisted. "Kieran, please—"

"Who?" Kieran demanded, voice sharp as a blade. His teeth clenched, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. "Who fucking touched you?"

Noah shook his head frantically, panic rising in his throat. "No one—"

"Don’t lie to me, kitten."

Kieran’s other hand shot out, grabbing Noah’s waist, pulling him flush against his body. The heat radiating from him was suffocating, overwhelming. His muscles were taut, vibrating with suppressed rage.

Noah gasped. "I— Kieran, let me go!"

But Kieran wasn’t listening. His grip was possessive, his fingers pressing into Noah’s skin like he wanted to carve his name into him.

"Did they kiss you?" he seethed. "Did they put their filthy hands on you? Did they—"

"No!" Noah cried, shaking his head violently. "No one—there’s no one!"

Kieran didn’t believe him. Not yet. His breaths came sharp and uneven, his fingers trembling with rage against Noah’s skin. His mind was spiraling, drowning in violent, possessive thoughts—thoughts of destruction, of erasing any trace of another man on his little lover.

********