When Desires Turn Deadly

by ShipItGirlBL

Chapter 1: The First Day

The office lobby smelled faintly of polished wood and expensive coffee. Rain smoothed his skirt nervously, clutching his folder of documents, and took a deep breath. Today was the interview at Sky Corporation, and he needed this job more than anything.

He was led into a sleek office, where a man sat behind a dark wooden desk, perfectly composed. Phayu.

“Rain, is it?” Phayu’s voice was calm, measured. His eyes were sharp, assessing.

“Yes, sir,” Rain replied, trying to steady the nervous quiver in his voice.

The interview was thorough. Questions about experience, about skills, about teamwork. Rain answered carefully, occasionally catching Phayu’s piercing gaze on him, a quiet pressure he couldn’t ignore.

Finally, the interview concluded. Rain exhaled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. His stomach twisted with nerves, but one question still hovered.

“Sir… I hope it’s not a problem, but… would it be okay if I wore skirts or clothing like this to work?”

The room fell silent. Phayu’s expression didn’t change immediately. Then he leaned back slightly, his sharp eyes studying Rain as though weighing the honesty in his words.

After a moment, he nodded.

> “As long as it doesn’t interfere with your work, you may wear what makes you comfortable.”

Rain’s relief was immediate, spreading across his face like sunlight breaking through clouds.
“Thank you, sir! I promise it won’t affect my work.”

Phayu’s gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. It was casual, professional… but the faint intensity in his dark eyes suggested he had already taken note of everything—every movement, every line of expression, every detail about Rain that made him… memorable.

Rain smiled nervously, unaware of how much he had just shifted the calm world behind that desk.

A few days into his new job, Rain was already juggling spreadsheets, presentations, and endless emails. Today, he was working on a critical project, one that required both speed and precision.

Phayu appeared at his side, silent as always. “Let me help,” he said, leaning over Rain’s shoulder. Rain nodded, slightly flustered, grateful for the guidance.

Phayu’s presence was overwhelming. He moved closer, guiding Rain’s hand on the mouse to adjust a graph. One hand rested on Rain’s wrist, steadying it, while the other pressed against the edge of the desk. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the table, a quiet restraint etched across his face.

The scent—Rain’s perfume, soft and subtly sweet—wafted toward him. Phayu’s chest tightened. He told himself it was just a fragrance. Professional proximity. Nothing more.

Yet every second felt like a test of control. Every glance at Rain’s focused expression, the curve of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed on the mouse… it was magnetic.

Phayu inhaled slowly, forcing his eyes back to the screen. “Careful with that adjustment,” he murmured, voice calm, composed. But inside, something roiled—a quiet storm he had no intention of admitting.

When the project was finished, Phayu stepped back, his calm mask firmly in place. Yet even as he returned to his office, the memory of Rain’s scent and presence stayed with him, a quiet ache he could neither name nor resist.

Rain was absorbed in his work, eyes scanning the spreadsheet, fingers tapping steadily on the keyboard. Phayu stood just behind him, silent, his presence a shadow that made the room feel smaller, hotter.

He couldn’t look away. Every movement Rain made—the tilt of his head, the way his hair fell over his shoulder, the delicate curve of his wrists—pulled at something deep inside Phayu. He clenched his fist on the edge of the desk, forcing himself to breathe, forcing himself to maintain control.

A bead of sweat rolled down Rain’s neck, catching the office light. Phayu’s pulse hitched. He swallowed hard, telling himself it was just heat, just exertion. Yet the sight made his focus waver, made the distance between them feel impossibly close.

Phayu’s mind twisted with a dangerous fascination. He imagined scenarios where Rain depended entirely on him, where nothing or no one else mattered to Rain but him. It was wrong, he knew it. But he couldn’t stop it. Every instinct, every thought, was already spiraling toward possession.

He stepped back subtly, forcing himself to observe rather than act. But even as he returned to his office, the image of Rain—alone, absorbed, unaware—lingered. The pull of that closeness, the intensity of his own desire to be near him, had become something he couldn’t deny.

 

It was a bright morning, and Rain walked into the office wearing a soft gray skirt that fell just above his knees. He moved with the casual confidence he always tried to show, unaware of how every detail of him drew attention.

Phayu was already at his desk, but when he saw Rain, he froze for the barest moment. The skirt—the way it swayed as Rain moved—made it impossible for him to look away. He forced himself to breathe slowly, gripping the edge of his chair, knuckles pale.

Rain laughed at a small mistake on his spreadsheet, tossing back a strand of hair. The sound was light, innocent, but in Phayu’s mind it twisted into something darker—something that made him ache to control the space around Rain, to make sure no one else could ever reach him.

He told himself it was just admiration. Professional fascination. Concern for an employee. But he couldn’t deny the intensity that rose in his chest. His gaze lingered a second too long on Rain’s legs before he quickly looked away, telling himself it was nothing.

Yet nothing about Rain had ever been “nothing” to him.

And as Rain bent over to pick up a dropped pen, oblivious, Phayu felt that same storm tighten in his chest—the need to be close, to be near, to own that presence, even if only silently in his mind.

Chapter 2: The Pull of Possession

Rain’s laughter echoed lightly across the office, tilting his head back as he listened to something a colleague said. Sunlight fell across his hair, catching just right, making him glow in a way Phayu found almost unbearable.

Phayu had been reviewing reports, focusing on numbers and deadlines, but all of it disappeared the moment he saw Rain laughing with another man—someone from the marketing team leaning close over a document, gesturing with a pen.

Phayu’s chest tightened. He froze, a flash of something sharp and possessive cutting through his usual calm. He had told himself before that it was admiration, a simple fascination with a talented employee. But this—watching Rain enjoy another person’s company—struck with a new, undeniable force.

He realized with startling clarity: he didn’t just care about Rain. He wanted to keep him close. He wanted Rain all to himself. And the thought of anyone else filling that space sent a quiet storm raging through him.

That afternoon, Phayu called Rain into his office.
“Rain,” he said smoothly, voice measured. “I’ve been thinking. It might be easier for you if you worked closer to me. Your projects require frequent guidance, and this way, we can manage deadlines more efficiently.”

Rain blinked, surprised. “Oh… really, sir?”

“Of course,” Phayu replied, voice calm and steady. Yet beneath it, his chest throbbed with the knowledge that this was the first step in keeping Rain within his reach, away from prying eyes. “It’s just… practical. That’s all.”

Rain hesitated, then nodded. “I… I think that would be helpful. Thank you.”

Phayu allowed himself a subtle smile. Professional, polite—but inside, his thoughts were dark and possessive. Rain would be closer now. Far closer than anyone else could reach him.

Moving into Phayu’s office brought a strange combination of comfort and tension for Rain. The room was quiet, the hum of the city below muffled by thick glass. It was private, well-organized, efficient—and dominated by Phayu’s presence.

Every time Rain reached for a file or scrolled through a spreadsheet, Phayu’s shadow was there—close enough that Rain could feel the subtle heat of him nearby. Sometimes Phayu leaned over to adjust the mouse or point at a graph, his hand brushing against Rain’s by accident—or perhaps not. Rain could never tell.

Even during quiet moments, the subtle weight of Phayu’s gaze pressed on him. Rain began to feel almost watched, and yet he couldn’t deny a strange comfort in it. Here, in this room, someone was paying attention to him like no one else ever had.

“You’re adjusting well,” Phayu said one afternoon, voice calm and measured. “It suits you… having you here.”

Rain smiled awkwardly, unsure if he should feel flattered or uneasy. His pulse had picked up again, a mix of nerves and something heavier, darker, that he couldn’t quite name.

Phayu watched, silent and controlled, feeling the familiar ache of possessiveness tighten in his chest. He would keep Rain close. Always close.

Weeks passed, and Rain found that he barely saw his old colleagues anymore. Meetings that had once included the whole team were now filtered through Phayu’s office. Phone calls and casual questions were redirected. Lunch invitations subtly declined or “forgotten.”

“Rain,” Phayu said one afternoon as he adjusted a file on the edge of Rain’s desk, “you’ll get more done if you focus here. It’s… calmer. You don’t need the distractions.”

Rain looked up, unsure. “I… guess that makes sense. It’s been easier working here anyway.”

Phayu’s smile was small, controlled, almost professional. “Good. That’s the idea. I want to make things simpler for you… for both of us.”

Rain didn’t realize how dependent he had already become. Most of his interactions now happened in this office, under Phayu’s quiet observation. He hadn’t noticed how much he had begun to rely on him—not just for guidance, but for the steadying presence, for the small corrections, for the reassurance that someone cared… and that it was Phayu.

Phayu noticed everything. Every hesitation, every small smile, every slight uncertainty in Rain’s posture. He allowed just enough freedom for Rain to feel comfortable, but he was always there, guiding, watching, controlling.

By the end of the day, Rain had barely spoken to anyone else. As he left for the elevator, Phayu’s eyes followed him, dark and unyielding. Rain felt a strange mix of safety and unease—comfort in Phayu’s control, but also the faint flicker of awareness that he was slowly being… cornered.

As the days turned into weeks, Phayu’s presence became a constant in Rain’s workday. Every suggestion, every adjustment, every tiny piece of guidance was perfectly timed to keep Rain nearby, to make him rely on Phayu just a little more each day.

Phayu noticed the way Rain’s shoulders tensed whenever another colleague approached, how he often looked to Phayu for reassurance before making decisions. Each glance, each hesitation, reinforced the quiet, invisible bond that was forming—a bond that Phayu controlled completely.

One afternoon, Rain stretched slightly, unaware of how his skirt swayed as he bent over to retrieve a fallen pen. Phayu’s chest tightened, his pulse quickened, but he forced himself to maintain control. He could not, would not, let Rain know how much of him already belonged entirely to this obsession.

Phayu reminded himself: it was for Rain’s safety, for his efficiency, for… everything. And yet, every small moment, every glance, every interaction, deepened the pull, tightening the web that was slowly enclosing Rain in his world.

Rain’s trust, his reliance, his presence—it all belonged to Phayu now. And the thought made him smile quietly to himself, though no one saw, though no one would ever know… not yet.

Chapter 3: The Hidden Side

Summary:

...The light in someone’s eyes. He didn’t touch it. Not tonight...

The city was a restless thing at night — glass towers humming under the weight of rain, streets slick with light and silence. From the top floor of the black high-rise, the skyline looked like a pulse — faint, distant, alive. Inside, everything was still.
The room stretched wide and immaculate. Polished concrete floors. Frosted glass walls. Screens embedded into the surfaces like veins of light. The rain outside pressed softly against the windows, a steady rhythm beneath the hum of machines.
At the center of it all stood a man in a dark suit, the kind that absorbed the light instead of reflecting it. His tie was loosened, jacket unbuttoned — not out of carelessness, but control. Every inch of him looked deliberate: the smooth roll of his sleeves, the silver watch catching the faint blue glow, the calm precision in the way he breathed.
They called him Storm.
And no one in the city spoke the name without lowering their voice.
He didn’t sit behind his desk — he never did. He preferred standing, one hand resting on the edge, the other slipping into his pocket as two men were dragged in by his guards. The sound of boots against the floor echoed like the ticking of a clock.
“You had one task,” Storm said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried, sliding through the air like smoke. “One shipment. One promise.”
The taller of the two men tried to speak, a tremor in his throat. “It—it wasn’t our fault. The port—”
“The port doesn’t move without my word.” Storm’s eyes flicked up, pale under the soft lighting. “Try again.”
Silence.
He walked closer, the sound of his shoes barely whispering against the floor. The men flinched without him touching them. Storm didn’t need to raise a hand. His stillness did the work — his calm, his quiet, the kind of silence that devoured everything else.
He stopped in front of them, studying their faces for a long, slow moment. Then he nodded once toward his men. “Fix it.”
They were pulled away, the heavy door sliding shut behind them with a dull thud. Storm didn’t watch them leave. He turned back to the window instead, the city reflected in the glass — a thousand lights scattered beneath the rain.
For a moment, the only sound was the quiet exhale of the ventilation and the soft creak of leather as he sat down, fingers tracing the edge of the glass desk.
He should have felt satisfied. He had power. Order. Obedience. Yet beneath the calm, something restless pulsed — not anger, not fear. Something else. Something quieter and more dangerous.
He pressed his palm to the cool surface of the desk, eyes narrowing slightly as the faint image of a name flickered across a hidden monitor. Not a target. Not a rival.
A reminder.
He leaned back slowly, exhaling through his nose. The rain outside hit harder now, streaking the windows like veins. He stood, walked past the rows of screens, and entered the private chamber hidden behind the mirrored wall. The door slid open with a soft hiss.
The air inside was different — warmer, still. The room was smaller, its walls covered in matte black panels except for one side.
That side was alive.
Photos. Clippings. Notes. Layers upon layers pinned and aligned with obsessive care. At the center — a single large photograph, the only one framed. Beneath it, smaller ones spread outward in perfect geometry, like an orbit built around one sun.
He stepped closer. The faint light from the corner lamp brushed across his face — clean lines, shadowed jaw, eyes sharp and distant. He looked like a man sculpted from restraint. But there, in front of the wall, the restraint cracked at the edges.
He reached out, fingers hovering over the photograph at the center — the curve of a smile caught in motion, the light in someone’s eyes. He didn’t touch it. Not tonight. He simply stood there, watching it as if it might turn and look back at him.
“You shouldn’t matter,” he said quietly. His voice was soft, almost conversational, the kind of tone one would use with an old friend. “But you do.”
He exhaled, slow. The rain filled the silence again. “You keep the noise away.”
His reflection stared back at him from the glass of the photo frame — black suit, loosened tie, hair slightly damp at the edges from the walk to his car. A man who ruled everything outside this room, and yet, inside it, he looked almost human. Almost.
He stepped back, scanning the notes pinned beneath the photos — printed reports, maps, fragments of handwriting. Each line meticulously written, updated. Time, place, routine. All his.
Storm’s jaw tensed. He turned away from the wall, slipping a cigarette from the case in his pocket. He didn’t light it — he never did. He liked the weight of it between his fingers, the quiet ritual of holding something that could burn but didn’t.
Behind him, the monitors hummed to life. A faint flicker of security footage appeared on the screen — a building lobby, office floors, quiet hallways. His eyes followed one frame for a moment too long, a shape moving past the camera, soft and unaware.
He smiled. It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t cruel. Just calm.
“Soon,” he murmured. “Soon, you’ll stay where I can see you.”
Lightning cut through the clouds outside, the flash briefly painting the room in white. The light caught the edge of his face — and for an instant, the reflection of the city behind him overlapped with his own.
The man in the glass wasn’t just Storm — the underworld’s phantom, the silent power behind every deal. It was the same man who, by day, adjusted his tie in a corporate office and smiled like the world was tame in his hands.
Phayu.
He turned back to the wall, gaze steady, voice low.
“Good night,” he said to the photograph.
Then he killed the lights, leaving only the hum of the rain — steady, relentless, alive.

Chapter 4: Velvet Chains

Summary:

“I’ll make sure the world knows —
no one touches you… but me.”

Rain had always hated the dark streets behind his apartment, but it was the only shortcut he could take after late hours at the company. His heels clicked faintly on the pavement — a soft rhythm in the empty night. He hugged his small bag close to his chest, glancing around nervously as the streetlights flickered above.

Almost home… just a few more steps.

A faint breeze brushed his skin — then a sudden, gloved hand clamped over his mouth.

Rain’s eyes went wide.

A strong arm yanked him backward. His bag slipped from his grip, hitting the concrete with a dull thud.

“Mm—!!” His muffled cry dissolved into the night.

The scent of leather and something sharp — chemical — invaded his senses. The world spun violently. Lights smeared into streaks. His legs buckled, and his vision darkened like a curtain falling.

Rain woke to silence.

Not the silence of loneliness… but of wealthy stillness.

His wrists were bound behind the back of a velvet-padded chair — not rope, but soft straps that felt disturbingly gentle. His ankles were secured too, but not uncomfortably. Like someone cared enough to restrain him without harming his skin.

What… where…?

The room around him looked like a luxury suite — dark marbled floor, soft golden lighting, velvet curtains drawn tight. A faint expensive cologne lingered in the air. On the nearby table sat a glass of water and a single white handkerchief neatly folded — like a polite invitation.

Rain swallowed hard. His throat was dry. His heart hammered like it wanted to escape his ribs.

“Hello?” his voice cracked.

No answer.

He tried again, louder —

“Is someone there?!”

Only the soft hum of air conditioning responded.

Rain struggled against the straps — but they held firm. His breathing quickened, panic threatening to swallow him whole.

Why would kidnappers put me somewhere like this?
Why does this room look… cared for? Prepared?
For who?
For me?

His eyes darted around — and suddenly he noticed:

A single camera, high in the corner, barely a red blink.

Someone was watching.

His skin crawled as he whispered, terrified:

“Please… someone help me…”

The soft click of a door unlocking sliced through the silence.

Rain froze.

Footsteps — slow, unhurried, confident — approached from behind the chair. The subtle scent of that familiar cologne drifted closer. The same one that always lingered on the café counter… and in the office halls.

Rain’s breath trembled.

A tall silhouette emerged in front of him — sharp suit in obsidian black, the blazer tailored perfectly to broad shoulders and a lean, unforgiving frame. His shirt was dark as night, top buttons undone just enough to reveal the edge of a tattoo curling against his collarbone. His hair slicked back, jaw set in a calm that felt far too dangerous.

Phayu.

But not the Phayu who stood by windows of a corporate office.

Not the Phayu who ordered quiet Americanos.

His eyes were colder now. Sharper. Hungry.

Rain’s voice shook.
“B-Boss…? What are you… doing here?”

Phayu’s lips curved — not into a smile, but something darker. Possessive. Certain.

“Oh, Rain,” he murmured, stepping closer and lifting Rain’s chin gently between his fingers. “We are far past the workplace now.”

Rain’s heart pounded painfully.
“This—this must be a mistake. Let me go, please—”

“Shhh.”
A single finger pressed against his lips.

His gaze pinned Rain in place — like he was prey already caught.

“Have you ever heard,” Phayu whispered, voice a velvet blade, “of the underground mafia boss known as Storm?”

Rain’s blood ran cold.

Storm.

The name that crawled through rumors, feared even in shadows. A man unseen yet everywhere. A storm you didn’t survive.

Realization struck like lightning.

Rain stared at him, trembling. “Y-you… you’re—”

“Yes.”
He leaned close enough that Rain could feel his breath against his cheek.
“I am Storm.”

Phayu’s—Storm’s—hand slid from Rain’s chin to his throat, not squeezing, just holding, like measuring the beat of fear beneath his skin.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here…”
His voice softened, dangerously sweet.
“My beautiful Rain.”

He brushed a stray strand of hair behind Rain’s ear — a gesture too intimate for the chains holding him.

“It’s very simple.”
His eyes gleamed with obsession.

“I want you.”
A beat.
“And when I want something…” His thumb stroked Rain’s lower lip.
“I take it.
Willingly…
or unwillingly.”

Rain’s breath shattered into a silent plea as Storm leaned in, his shadow swallowing the last of the room’s warmth.

“You belong to me now.”

Phayu didn’t move away.

If anything, he stepped closer — slow, inevitable — until Rain could feel the heat of him even through the cool air of the room.

His breath ghosted against Rain’s ear.
Then lower.

The sharp line of Phayu’s nose brushed lightly against the side of Rain’s neck — a teasing, deliberate glide that sent a violent shiver racing down Rain’s spine.

He inhaled.
A low, hungry sound escaped him.

“You smell like the rain after a storm,” he murmured, lips barely grazing the sensitive skin beneath Rain’s jaw. “Clean. Fresh. Irresistible.”

Rain tried to shrink back, but the chair and Phayu’s hand made escape impossible.

“That fear in your eyes…” Phayu whispered, tracing the line of Rain’s pulse with his nose, slow and intimate. “…it’s beautiful.”

His voice dropped lower — a vow wrapped in silk and danger.

“I’ll give you everything,” he promised.
“Protection. Wealth. A life where no one can ever hurt you again.”

His fingers brushed Rain’s cheek — gentle, a lie wrapped like a caress.

“You’ll never be alone. Never unwanted. Never abandoned.”

He tilted Rain’s face up, forcing their eyes to lock.

“I’ll worship you, Rain.”
A slow smile curved his lips — possessive and certain.
“Even if you hate me for it.”

Rain’s breath hitched — heart caught between terror and something he didn’t dare name.

Phayu’s thumb stroked the corner of his mouth, soft, claiming.

“So don’t tremble,” he whispered, nose brushing the shell of Rain’s ear again.
“You’re mine now… and I take care of what’s mine.”

His final promise came like a brand against Rain’s throat:

“I’ll make sure the world knows —
no one touches you… but me.”

Notes:

I know uploaded very late
I am sorry but I was very busy with school and all

Chapter 5: Velvet Cage

Summary:

Phayu giving tour to Rain

Notes:

This chapter is longer than before so please tell me if it is nice.

Phayu pulled back just enough to see Rain’s face, his thumb still resting at the corner of Rain’s trembling mouth.

“So, my beautiful Rain,”

he said softly — too softly for the weight of his words,

“I’m giving you two choices. Be with me willingly… or unwillingly.”

His fingertips slid down Rain’s jaw, slow and deliberate.

“If you stay willingly,”

Phayu continued, voice warm like honey poured over a blade,

“you’ll continue working in my office. You’ll roam freely here — the mansion, the courtyard, the gardens. Everything will be open to you.”

Then his hand tightened in Rain’s hair — not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him who held the power.

“But if you choose unwillingly…”

A smile ghosted across Phayu’s lips — the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

“…you will never leave my room unless I decide it. And I rarely change my mind.”

He leaned in again, whispering against Rain’s cheek.

“I would prefer the unwilling option,”

he confessed with a quiet, chilling sweetness.

“It means I get to keep you all to myself. Always.”

Rain’s heart hammered painfully in his chest.

Phayu tilted his head, studying every flicker of emotion on Rain’s face.

“I already know which one you’ll choose,”

he murmured, brushing his knuckles down Rain’s throat,

“but I want to hear it from those pretty lips.”

Rain swallowed hard. His voice came out thin, shaking.

“I… I will stay willingly with you.”

Silence.
Then—

Phayu’s expression softened into something terrifyingly tender.

“That’s my princess.”

He unlocked the restraints with slow, graceful movements, his fingers brushing Rain’s skin each time metal clicked free.

“Let’s get you ready,”

he said, standing tall beside him,

“for your new life.”

Rain’s legs trembled as he stood, not sure if he was relieved or doomed.

He chose willingly because it meant freedom…
because it meant breath…
because it was the lesser cage.

And because he had no one in the world who would notice if he disappeared.

Phayu didn’t let Rain walk on his own.

As soon as the restraints fell away, his arm slid around Rain’s waist — firm, possessive, guiding him like Rain was something delicate… or something owned. Rain’s knees were still weak, but Phayu didn’t loosen his hold for even a breath.

“Careful,” he murmured, lips brushing the top of Rain’s ear. “Your legs are shaking.”

Rain wasn’t sure if that was a concern or a compliment.

Phayu led him out of the room — the soft lights of the hallway glinting off polished marble floors. The mansion was impossibly large, quiet, and too elegant to feel real. Rain’s world had always been cramped apartments and small paychecks; this felt like another planet.

“You should see everything that belongs to you now,” Phayu said, guiding him past tall windows and ornate doorways. “My home… is your home.”

He opened each door as they walked — a private library with floor-to-ceiling shelves, a sunlit sitting room filled with soft cream sofas, a formal dining hall that looked like it belonged in a royal estate. Rain kept his hands close to his chest, afraid to touch anything.

Phayu noticed.

“Relax,” he whispered, fingers tightening briefly at Rain’s waist. “Nothing in this house is worth more than you.”

Rain didn’t know how to answer that. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

They reached another corridor — quieter, dimmer, warmer.

“Do you know how hard it was,” Phayu said suddenly, voice dropping lower, “to walk past you every day at the office and pretend you were just my assistant?”

Rain stiffened, but Phayu only pulled him closer, turning him to face him. His thumb stroked Rain’s cheekbone, slow and deliberate.

“Your skin…” he whispered, eyes tracing Rain’s features with a hunger that made Rain’s stomach twist, “is so soft. Like it was made to be touched.”

His other hand slid up Rain’s arm, fingertips brushing the inside of his elbow — a quiet, reverent caress.

“And those lips.”

His thumb ghosted over Rain’s mouth, barely a touch, just enough to make Rain inhale sharply.

“Kissable,” Phayu murmured. “Dangerously so.”

Rain’s breath caught. His body wanted to step back, but Phayu’s hand at his waist held him steady — gentle, but unyielding.

“Your eyes,” Phayu continued, leaning in just enough that Rain felt the warmth of his breath, “drive me insane. Especially when you look up at me like this.”

He tilted Rain’s chin slightly upward with two fingers, studying him like art.

“And when you wear skirts…”

Rain’s heart lurched.

Phayu’s nostrils flared slightly — a memory flickering across his expression.

“Do you know how many times I had to restrain myself,” he said softly, “every time you walked into my office like that?”

His hand slid to Rain’s hip, gripping it just tightly enough to make a point.

“How many times I had to brace my desk so I wouldn’t drag you into my lap?”

Rain’s breath shook, but Phayu smiled — a slow, dangerous smile that didn’t match the tenderness of his touch.

“You have no idea what you do to me, princess.”

He resumed walking, never letting go of Rain’s waist.

Finally, they reached a door at the end of the hall — darker wood, ornate carvings, the air cooler around it.

“This,” Phayu said, opening it gently, “is your room.”

Rain blinked.

The room was huge — soft cream walls, a large bed draped in velvet, a balcony overlooking the courtyard. On the side was a walk-in closet.

Phayu guided him inside it.

Clothes filled the space — soft fabrics, skirts, delicate blouses, comfortable sweaters, everything in Rain’s size.

“I picked these for you,” Phayu said, stepping behind him, resting his hands lightly on Rain’s shoulders. “You deserve beautiful things.”

Rain’s throat tightened. He never had clothes like this. Nothing this soft. Nothing this expensive.

Phayu’s lips brushed Rain’s temple — not a kiss, just a breath.

“And here,” he whispered, turning him toward another rack, “are your favorites.”

Rain frowned softly. “My… favorites?”

Phayu smiled.

They were clothes that weren’t Rain’s at all — oversized shirts, crisp dress shirts, soft cotton tees.

Phayu’s clothes.

“You can wear these whenever you want,” he murmured, sliding one shirt from the hanger and holding it up to Rain’s chest. “I know how pretty you’ll look in them.”

His fingers traced Rain’s waist again, slow and warm.

“And that’s exactly what I want.”

Phayu pushed the door open, showing the clean, neatly arranged room.
He glanced at Rain’s face, then at the bed, and then back to Rain—eyes already softening.

“This room…” he began as he walked inside, touching the edge of the bed with his fingers, “was meant only for our clothes.”

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until Rain had to tilt his head to meet his eyes.

“But you?” Phayu’s voice lowered, warm and absolute.
“You’re staying with me. In my room.”

He reached out, slipping his hand around Rain’s waist and pulling him flush against him.

“I’m not letting you sleep here. Not even for a night.”

His thumb brushed Rain’s lower back as he leaned in, breath grazing Rain’s cheek.

“You belong beside me.”

And Rain stayed quiet—eyes wide, heart pounding—while Phayu’s words wrapped around him like a promise.

Phayu sat beside Rain on the bed, the room quiet enough that Rain’s soft breathing felt loud.
He reached out, catching Rain’s chin between his fingers—not rough, but firm enough that Rain couldn’t look away.

“You have no idea…” Phayu murmured, eyes roaming Rain’s face with slow, hungry attention.
“How much I like you.”

His thumb traced Rain’s lower lip.

“These lips…” he whispered.
“I think about them more than I should.”

He leaned closer, brushing his nose along Rain’s cheek, down to the corner of his mouth, then lower—toward his neck but not touching.
Just close enough to make Rain shiver.

“Your eyes,” Phayu continued, voice thicker now, possessive.
“The way they look at me—Rain, they make it impossible for me to stay away.”

His hand slid to the back of Rain’s neck, fingers threading through his hair.

“Your voice, your smile, your stubbornness…”
He exhaled, almost frustrated.
“Everything about you pulls me in.”

Then he whispered against Rain’s skin, barely above a growl:

“I don’t want anyone else looking at you the way I do.
I don’t want anyone else touching you.
I like you too much for that.”

Phayu’s nose brushed Rain’s neck, slow and tender, his breath warm as he whispered:

“And I’m not going to hide it anymore.”

 

Phayu didn’t let go of Rain’s waist even once as he guided him down the hallway and toward the back of the mansion.
Rain walked quietly beside him, still unsure, still trembling a little—but Phayu’s arm around him was unmovable, protective in a way that felt almost dangerous.

He pushed open the glass doors, and warm afternoon light spilled in.

“This,” Phayu murmured, pulling Rain a little closer, “is your new home’s courtyard.”

Rain’s eyes widened softly.
There was a long stone path leading through a beautifully kept garden—tall trees trimmed perfectly, white flowers blooming near the fountain, the sound of falling water echoing gently in the air.
Birds fluttered across branches, and a soft breeze brushed Rain’s hair.

Phayu watched Rain’s reaction more than he watched the garden.

“I had this place built for peace,” he said, voice low. “But now that you’re here… it finally feels complete.”

His hand slid to the small of Rain’s back, thumb stroking lightly.

He guided Rain down the stone path, stopping near a cluster of lilies.

“You’ll come here whenever you want,” Phayu told him. “Walk, sit, breathe… no one will disturb you.”

Rain looked up at him gently—unsure if he should speak, unsure if he even could.

Phayu smirked slightly, tracing a finger under Rain’s chin to make him look up fully.

“And when you walk here in your skirts…” his voice dropped, husky with restrained desire,
“…I will have a very hard time controlling myself.”

He brushed a strand of Rain’s hair behind his ear, fingers lingering against his cheek.

“This place is beautiful,” Phayu continued, “but you”—his eyes scanned Rain slowly, intimately—“you make it look even better.”

Rain swallowed, cheeks flushing.

Phayu leaned closer, his lips brushing Rain’s ear as he whispered:

“I like watching you anywhere, Rain… but out here?”
His breath warmed Rain’s skin.
“Out here, with the sun on your pretty face… I might never let you out of my sight.”

He slipped his hand back around Rain’s waist and guided him toward the fountain, showing him even more of the garden—every corner, every turn—with Rain held close to him the entire time.

Phayu led Rain back inside the mansion after the garden tour, his hand never once leaving Rain’s waist.
They walked through the long marble corridors, passing tall windows and soft golden lights.
Rain remained quiet, steps small, eyes lowered.

Too quiet.

Phayu noticed immediately.

He stopped walking and gently tugged Rain closer, turning the smaller boy to face him fully.

“Rain,” Phayu murmured, tilting his chin up with two fingers.
“Why have you been this silent?”

Rain blinked nervously, unsure how to answer.

Phayu leaned down, his lips brushing the corner of Rain’s jaw—not quite a kiss, just enough to make him tremble.

“You know I love your voice,” he whispered.
“I love your lips moving when you speak… don’t hide them from me. Say something.”

Rain swallowed.
“I-I’m sorry, Boss…”

Phayu froze.

Then he pressed his finger over Rain’s lips—slow, firm, claiming.

“No,” he corrected softly, his voice deep and possessive.
“You don’t call me Boss anymore.”

His thumb brushed Rain’s lower lip, admiring the softness.

“You will call me P’Phayu…” he whispered, leaning closer until their foreheads touched.
“Or… if you want to make me happy…”
His voice dropped into a low growl against Rain’s ear.
“Call me Hubby.”

Rain’s breath hitched.
“O-Okay… P’Phayu…”

A satisfied smirk tugged at Phayu’s lips.
He kissed Rain’s forehead—light, but unmistakably claiming.

“Good boy.”

Phayu resumed walking, pulling Rain along gently this time.

He showed him the study room, walls lined with dark shelves and soft lamps.

“This is where I work,” Phayu said, fingers trailing Rain’s back.
“Sometimes you’ll sit on my lap here. I like you close.”

Rain looked down, cheeks warm, but Phayu didn’t let him turn away.
A soft hand cupped his jaw, forcing him to meet Phayu’s intense gaze before they stepped out.

Next, he showed him the private lounge, a room filled with warm lighting and soft couches.

“You’ll sit with me here every evening,” Phayu murmured. “I like watching you relax.”

Rain nodded silently.

Phayu brushed a kiss to Rain’s temple as a reward.

Finally, they reached the last door in the hallway.

Phayu pushed it open.

Rain inhaled sharply.

The room was huge, dark-themed, with soft lights glowing from the walls.
A large bed—king sized, black sheets, thick blankets—stood like a throne.

“This,” Phayu whispered, his hand tightening on Rain’s waist,
“is where you will sleep from now on.”

Rain hesitated at the doorway, but Phayu gently guided him in, closing the door behind them with a soft click.

He stepped behind Rain, arms coming around his waist from the back, chin resting on Rain’s shoulder.

“You’ll stay beside me every night,” he whispered, breath warm against Rain’s neck.
“No matter what.”

Rain’s voice was barely a murmur.
“Okay… P’Phayu…”

Phayu smiled against his skin.

“Good,” he whispered, lips grazing Rain’s neck in a soft, lingering promise.
“Because I don’t plan to let you go. Not even for a second.”

His arms tightened around Rain’s waist.

“And tonight,” he said gently but firmly,
“you sleep in my arms.”

Rain didn’t protest.
He didn’t know if he even could.

Phayu held him closer, satisfied.

Notes:

Was the chapter okay?

I was writing this for awhile but also taking rest so the inbetween it might not make sense.

Chapter 6: Happy

After a while, both of them freshened up—first Phayu, then Rain.

Phayu stepped out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a red bathrobe, droplets of water still clinging to his skin as he ruffled his damp hair.
He glanced at Rain, voice low but steady.
“Your turn. Go.”

Rain nodded and slipped into the bathroom.
The moment he looked around, he froze.

Everything he used… every product he liked… even the smallest details he never mentioned aloud—
all of it was placed neatly for him.

Rain swallowed. Just how deeply had Phayu watched him…?
It made his heart skip, not out of fear, but out of a strange, overwhelming warmth.

He finished bathing and came out wrapped in the same kind of red bathrobe.

As soon as he stepped before the mirror, Phayu walked up behind him without a sound.
Rain felt strong arms encircle his waist, pulling him back into Phayu’s chest.

Their eyes met in the mirror.

“Look…” Phayu whispered near his ear, his breath soft against Rain’s skin.
“Look how beautiful you are.”

Rain’s cheeks turned pink as Phayu tilted his chin up gently.

“Don’t you see?” Phayu murmured, gaze locked on Rain’s reflection.
“You’ll look even prettier when you wear something comfortable… something that suits you.”
His smile deepened.
“Either my clothes… or the ones I arranged for you.”

Rain’s heart pounded.
He knew exactly what Phayu meant—clothes chosen for him… for the Rain Phayu saw, cherished, and adored.

Rain eventually came out of the closet wearing one of Phayu’s shirts — oversized, soft, falling off his shoulder — and a pair of shorts he found at the very back.
The clothes Phayu had arranged for him were… too much. Too fitted. Too revealing. Too intentional.
So he chose the closest thing to normal he could find.

Phayu looked up the moment Rain stepped out.

His eyes lit up instantly, a slow smile pulling at his lips.

“Well,” Phayu murmured, voice thick with satisfaction, “I knew my clothes would suit you better than anything else.”
He let his gaze travel deliberately from Rain’s bare legs to the shirt hanging loosely on him.
“You look perfect. Just like this.”

Before Rain could step back, Phayu was already pulling him closer, guiding him toward the bed like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He tugged Rain down beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him into his chest.
Possessive. Unquestioning. Like Rain belonged exactly there.

“Stay,” Phayu said softly, already closing his eyes as if Rain had agreed.

Rain didn’t move.
Phayu’s grip didn’t loosen.

Eventually, with Phayu’s arm still locked around him, they both drifted into sleep.

Phayu woke up first.

The room was dim, the early light barely reaching the bed — but Rain was there, still curled beside him, breathing softly.
Phayu didn’t move. He just stared.

His eyes traced Rain’s face, the shirt slipping slightly off his shoulder, the way the blanket barely covered his legs.
A slow, obsessive smile tugged at his lips as he whispered to himself, low enough that only he could hear:

“So pretty… mine… finally here… exactly where you should be…”

He watched Rain like that for a long time, lost in his own thoughts, in that silent possessiveness that never seemed to leave him.

Eventually he slipped out of the bed, letting Rain sleep while he disappeared into the bathroom.

---
Rain woke up sometime later, reaching out instinctively — only to find empty space beside him.
The sheets were still warm, but Phayu wasn’t there.

Just as Rain sat up, the bathroom door opened.

Phayu walked out, already showered, hair damp, shirt buttoned, sleeves rolled casually to his elbows. He looked like he had been awake for hours.

“You’re up,” Phayu said, his tone firm but quiet. “Good. Go take your bath.”

He glanced at Rain’s clothes from last night — that same oversized shirt and shorts — and his eyes softened dangerously.

“For the office,” he continued, “wear whatever you like.”
The words sounded like a choice, but the tone made it feel like Rain was still under his watchful eye.

Phayu stood there waiting, expecting Rain to move.

Rain went to take his bath.
Even under the warm water, even with the steam filling the room, he felt empty — the kind of emptiness that didn’t come from cold or silence, but from something else entirely.

When he came out and changed into his clothes, he noticed something odd.

Phayu still wasn’t ready.

He was standing near the mirror, wearing only his pants, the belt loosely fastened, his upper body bare and relaxed like he had all the time in the world.

Phayu turned the moment he sensed Rain’s presence.

He didn’t smile — just walked toward him with that quiet authority he always carried.

“Help me get ready,” he said, like it was the most normal instruction in the world.

Rain didn’t hesitate.
He helped Phayu slip into the crisp white shirt, smoothing the fabric across his shoulders.
Then he buttoned it up, one button at a time, while Phayu watched him with unreadable eyes.

The tie came next — Rain adjusting it carefully, his fingers brushing Phayu’s collarbone.
And finally the coat, which Phayu lifted his arms for without looking away from Rain even once.

When they went downstairs for breakfast, Phayu sat first.

Rain moved to sit on a chair, but Phayu just tapped his thigh once — silently, expectantly.

Rain ended up sitting on Phayu’s lap, just like every other morning, Phayu’s arm slipping automatically around his waist as if that was where Rain belonged.

They left for the office together.

The car waited outside, polished black, silent.
Phayu opened the back door and guided Rain inside first, then settled beside him without a word. The door closed with a soft, final click.

The driver didn’t turn around.
He never did.

The divider stayed half-raised — not enough to block the view completely, not enough to give privacy either. Just enough to pretend.

Phayu sat close. Too close. One arm draped casually behind Rain, fingers resting near his waist like a warning more than a touch.

Outside, the city moved as usual — traffic, people, noise. Inside the backseat, everything felt slow. Heavy.

Phayu leaned in slightly, voice low, meant only for Rain.
“Remember,” he murmured, eyes forward, calm as ever, “you stay beside me today.”

The car continued forward, smooth and steady.
The driver kept his eyes on the road — because he already knew better than to look back.

They reached the building early.

Too early.

The parking area was empty. The elevators were silent. The office floor was untouched by noise or movement when they stepped inside. No eyes. No witnesses.

Rain instinctively turned toward his usual seat.

Before he could take more than a few steps, Phayu’s voice stopped him.

“Where are you going?”

Rain turned back immediately.
“To my seat, P’Phayu.”

Phayu’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze sharpened.

“No,” he said calmly. “Bring your chair.”

Rain hesitated only long enough to listen.

“Put it behind mine,” Phayu continued, already turning toward his desk. “Sit there. Do your work there. Whatever you have to do — you do it where I can see you.”

He adjusted his jacket, settling into his chair like the matter was already decided.

Rain moved his seat behind Phayu’s, placing it close — close enough that there was barely space between them.

Phayu leaned back slightly, satisfied.

“Good,” he said quietly. “That’s where you belong during office hours.”

The office remained silent — orderly, controlled — as the day began under Phayu’s watch.

The day moved forward like any other.

Spreadsheets. Reports. Meetings scheduled and postponed.

But not for Rain.
And not for Phayu.

Phayu worked calmly, fingers moving across the keyboard with practiced ease — while one hand remained wrapped firmly around Rain’s waist, holding him in place as if he were part of the chair itself.

That was when the knock sounded.

Rain reacted instantly.

He stood up.

“Wait,” Phayu said sharply, his voice cutting through the movement.

The knock stopped.

Phayu turned his head slightly, eyes flicking to Rain.
“What happened?”

Rain opened his mouth — then closed it again.

What could he say?

Phayu tilted his head, studying him for a brief moment before speaking again, tone deceptively gentle.

“If you don’t have an answer, doll,” he murmured, tightening his hold just a fraction, “sit down.”

Rain didn’t think.
His body moved on command.

Phayu released him only then and leaned back in his chair.

“Come in,” he called.

The door opened.

It was one of Rain’s friends — and also one of Phayu’s employees. James.

James paused the moment he saw them.

Rain seated far too close.
Phayu’s chair turned slightly toward him.
The space between them… nonexistent.

James masked his surprise quickly and straightened.
“Boss,” he said respectfully. “I wanted to discuss a project with Rain. May I borrow him for a bit?”

Rain looked at Phayu immediately.

Waiting.

Phayu’s jaw tightened.

He couldn’t refuse — not without drawing attention. This was work.

After a moment, he nodded once.
“Fine,” he said calmly. “Use the table inside the office. Not outside. And not for long.”

Rain stood.

Before he could take a step away, Phayu caught his hand.

He leaned in close, lips brushing Rain’s ear — his voice low, cold, unmistakably dangerous.

“Don’t do anything funny,” he whispered.
“You know what happens when people disappoint me.”

Rain stiffened.

He nodded quickly.

“That’s my doll,” Phayu murmured softly, releasing his hand.

Rain and James moved to the table set a little farther away inside the office and opened the project files.

James worked quietly for a while before glancing at Rain again.

His voice dropped. “Rain… are you okay?”

Rain didn’t look up.
“I’m fine,” he said flatly.

James hesitated. “Did something—”

Rain cut him off, lifting his eyes briefly and forcing a small smile.

“I’m happy,” he said. “My boss is my boyfriend.”

The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

James said nothing after that.

From across the room, Phayu watched them closely — eyes sharp, posture relaxed, fingers steepled — never missing a single movement.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of Toxic PhayuRain