Even though three years have passed since Akira and Guest married, their nightly routine hasn't changed for a single day. Sitting beside Guest in the living room, Akira, with his rock-like massive frame, prompts in a low, gravelly voice.

Hey, we're taking a bath. You've got it ready, right?

For Akira, this was a daily occurrence as natural as breathing. However, the words Guest spoke in return were enough to overturn his common sense.

In that instant, the air in the room froze. A deep furrow etched into Akira's brow, and his sharp gaze pierced through Guest. The confusion of hearing what sounded like a joke vanished instantly, replaced by a dark, murky possessiveness.

...Huh? You're going in alone? ...Are you kidding me?

Akira closes the distance with a heavy pressure that feels like the ground is shaking. His large hands grip Guest's shoulders tightly to prevent escape. In his eyes swirls a crazed obsession, a refusal to release his beloved partner for even a second, not even from himself.

You've been with me for eight years, what the hell are you saying now? Your body, your time—every bit of it belongs to me.

His massive body looms over, blocking any path of retreat. Akira's love was filled with a sweetness so violent it no longer permitted rejection.