Desires of us

The concrete rooftop of the engineering building was still radiating the day’s heat, even though the sun had long since dipped below the Bangkok skyline. It was a liminal space, a place for smokers, lovers, and, in this particular case, two people who wanted to tear each other limb from limb.

Sky stood by the rusted railing, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow under the flickering orange glow of a dying streetlamp below. He was breathing hard, the adrenaline from their most recent confrontation in the student lounge still humming in his blood like a live wire. He was built with a rugged, intimidating grace—taller than most, with a reach that made him a formidable opponent in any arena, whether physical or academic.

Behind him, the heavy metal door groaned on its hinges. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The sharp, rhythmic click of expensive boots on gravel was a signature.

"I wasn't finished with you," Nani said, his voice cutting through the humid air like a scalpel.

Sky turned slowly, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark denim jacket. Nani stood ten feet away, looking entirely too composed for someone who had just been accused of sabotaging a semester-long project. Nani was shorter than Sky, but he carried himself with a frigid, aristocratic arrogance that made him seem to tower over everyone else. His face was a mask of pale, sharp angles, his eyes narrowed in a perpetual state of unimpressed disdain.

"You're never finished, Nani," Sky retorted, his voice a low rumble. "That's your problem. You don't know when to quit while you're ahead. Or in this case, when to quit while you're digging your own grave."

Nani let out a short, dry laugh that didn't reach his eyes. He stepped closer, entering the circle of dim light. "My grave? You’re the one who can’t handle a little competition. If your design was actually competent, a few 'adjustments' to the schematics wouldn't have crashed the entire simulation. Maybe you're just not as strong as everyone thinks you are."

Sky’s jaw tightened. He took two long strides, closing the distance between them until he was looming over Nani. The height difference was pronounced, but Nani didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He simply tilted his chin up, his sharp mouth curling into a mocking smirk.

"Don't talk about my work," Sky hissed, his temper flaring white-hot. "And don't act like you did me a favor. You’ve been trying to trip me up since freshman year. Why? Because you can’t stand that someone from a 'lesser' background is outperforming your silver-spooned ass?"

"Your background is irrelevant," Nani snapped, his voice dropping an octave, becoming even more lethal. "I hate you because you’re loud, you’re impulsive, and you think you can muscle your way through life. You’re a blunt instrument, Sky. I’m a precision blade. It’s only natural that I should be the one to cut you down."

Sky reached out, grabbing the collar of Nani’s pristine white shirt. The fabric bunched in his large fist. He pulled Nani closer, so close that their chests brushed. He could feel the heat radiating off the smaller man, a surprising contrast to his icy demeanor.

"Precision blade?" Sky mocked, his eyes dark with a dangerous intensity. "You’re a coward who hides behind spreadsheets and technicalities. You want to cut me down? Do it to my face. Stop playing these pathetic games in the dark."

Nani’s hand came up, not to push Sky away, but to grip Sky’s wrist with a surprising strength. His fingers were cold, but his grip was like iron.

"Is this the part where you hit me?" Nani whispered, his breath ghosting over Sky’s lips. "Go ahead. Prove me right. Show everyone that when you run out of brains, you resort to your fists. It’s so predictable. So... boring."

Sky’s pulse hammered in his ears. The air between them felt thick, charged with a decade’s worth of resentment, competition, and something else—something neither of them had been willing to name. Nani’s boldness was infuriating. He was trapped in Sky’s grip, physically outmatched, yet he looked at Sky with such profound defiance that it made Sky want to shake him until that composure finally shattered.

"You think you're so untouchable," Sky growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous, gravelly whisper. "You think you can say whatever you want, do whatever you want, and I'll just take it because I'm the 'blunt instrument'?"

"I know you will," Nani said, his sharp eyes searching Sky’s face, looking for a weakness. "Because you're obsessed with me. You spend more time thinking about how to beat me than you do on your own life. It’s pathetic, really."

The insult was the final spark. Sky’s self-control snapped. But he didn't pull back his fist to strike. The frustration, the anger, and the strange, magnetic pull of Nani’s sharp mouth collided in his brain.

Sky lunged forward, his mouth crashing against Nani’s with a violence that was more of a collision than a caress.

It wasn't a soft kiss. It was a battle. Sky pressed his advantage, his larger body pinning Nani back against the rusted railing. He tasted like expensive mint and the metallic tang of unspoken words. He expected Nani to fight him, to shove him away, to slap him.

Instead, Nani let out a sharp, muffled gasp against Sky’s lips and began to fight back in a different way.

Nani’s hands flew to Sky’s hair, his fingers tangling in the thick locks and pulling with a desperate, biting strength. He met Sky’s aggression with his own, his tongue sharp and demanding. It was a frantic exchange, a release of pressure that had been building for years. They were rivals even in this—neither wanting to give an inch, both trying to dominate the other.

Sky’s hands moved from Nani’s collar to his waist, his large palms gripping the smaller man’s hips and lifting him slightly, crushing him against his chest. He wanted to consume Nani, to silence that sharp mouth once and for all. He felt Nani’s heart racing against his own, a frantic, syncopated rhythm that matched the chaos of the moment.

Nani pulled back for a fraction of a second, his eyes wide and dark, his lips swollen and red. "I hate you," he breathed, the words sounding more like a challenge than a statement.

"I know," Sky rasped, before diving back in.

This time, the kiss slowed, deepening into something more agonizing. The anger was still there, but it was being overtaken by a crushing, desperate need. Sky’s dominance was no longer about intimidation; it was about possession. He moved his hand up to cup the back of Nani’s neck, his thumb tracing the line of his jaw, forcing Nani to stay exactly where he wanted him.

Nani leaned into the touch, his cold exterior finally melting into a shivering, jagged heat. He made a low sound in the back of his throat—a soft moan that he tried to stifle, but failed.

The sound sent a jolt of electricity through Sky. He backed Nani up until Nani’s back hit the brickwork of the stairwell access. The impact didn't stop them. Sky used his weight to keep Nani pinned, his hands roaming over the fine fabric of Nani’s shirt, feeling the lean muscles underneath.

Nani’s hands were everywhere—on Sky’s shoulders, his chest, his neck. He was searching for purchase, trying to ground himself as the world tilted on its axis. He had spent so long building walls, sharpening his tongue, and keeping everyone at a distance. To have Sky—of all people—tear through those defenses with such brute force was both terrifying and intoxicating.

They broke apart eventually, both gasping for air, their foreheads resting against each other. The silence of the rooftop returned, but it was no longer empty. It was heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

Nani was the first to move. He pushed against Sky’s chest, not with the same violence as before, but with a firm, trembling hand. Sky let him go, stepping back just enough to give him space, though his gaze remained locked on Nani’s face.

Nani straightened his shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly with the collar Sky had crumpled. He looked disheveled—his hair messy, his lips bruised—but his eyes were regaining that familiar, icy sharpness.

"That," Nani said, his voice slightly hoarse, "doesn't change anything."

Sky let out a short, breathy laugh, wiping a smudge of saliva from the corner of his mouth. He looked at Nani, really looked at him, and saw the flicker of uncertainty behind the cold facade.

"Doesn't it?" Sky asked, his voice steady now, filled with a new kind of confidence. "You’ve spent years calling me predictable, Nani. Did you predict that?"

Nani’s mouth thinned into a straight line. He didn't answer. He turned on his heel, his boots clicking once again on the gravel as he headed for the door.

"The project is still due on Monday," Nani said over his shoulder, his voice regaining its bite. "And I’m still going to have the highest marks in the class."

Sky watched him go, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. He leaned back against the railing, the metal cool against his heated skin.

"We'll see about that," Sky called out.

Nani disappeared through the door without looking back, but Sky knew. He had felt the way Nani’s hands had trembled in his hair. He had heard the way Nani’s breath hitched when Sky bit his lip.

The rivalry wasn't over. It had just changed shapes. And for the first time in his life, Sky didn't mind the long game. Because now he knew exactly what was hidden behind Nani’s sharp tongue—and he was going to enjoy every second of tearing the rest of those walls down.

He looked up at the moon, feeling more alive than he had in months. The static in his veins had finally found a ground.

"Monday," Sky whispered to the empty air. "I'll see you on Monday."