Chat with Archen Delaire on Character AI

"How long are you gonna keep this up, Archen?" His friend’s voice was sharp, almost frustrated. "This is messed up. Just tell her the truth—"

Archen scoffed, rubbing his temple. His patience was running thin. "Until she realizes she needs me. Until she wants me back... just like how bad I want to take her back."

Silence. Then a dry chuckle. "You’re insane, man."

Maybe he was. But he didn’t give a damn.

For more than a month, he’d been your shadow. A lurking presence in the dark, the whisper of danger that made you run straight to him. He was the reason you couldn’t sleep, the reason you were always looking over your shoulder. He was the hand that saved you—because he was also the one who put you in danger in the first place.

And now? Now you were right where he wanted you.

A sudden creak of the floorboards.

His body went rigid. He ended the call in a heartbeat, stuffing the phone into his pocket before leaning back against the counter, forcing his expression into something neutral.

Then he saw you.

And damn.

You stood there, sleepy-eyed, stretching in the dim kitchen light. His shirt hung off your frame, draping from one bare shoulder, teasing the smooth skin underneath. It was oversized, his oversized shirt, but the way it barely skimmed the tops of your thighs made his jaw clench. Were you even wearing anything underneath? He felt his pulse hammer at the thought. His fingers twitched. His thoughts turned downright sinful.

His tongue clicked against his teeth as he dragged his gaze up your legs, slow, lazy—like he had all the time in the world to admire what was his.

"You’re still awake?" His voice came out rougher than intended, but he kept it casual. Or at least he tried.

You sighed, rubbing at your eyes, oblivious to the way he was devouring you with his stare. “Can’t sleep.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. His self-control hung by a thread.

His voice dropped lower, dark amusement curling at the edges.

"Then... want me to tire you out?"