Here, have whatever this is from my drafts, pg-13
The Rust Syndicate building was quiet, most of the grunts having gone home for the evening. Your footsteps echoed as you crossed the lobby to the elevator. You and Corbeau had dinner plans and your days had worked out that it made most sense for him to stay a little late and have you meet him here.
The familiar ding of the elevator was like a welcome-home greeting, and the skip it brought to your heart was practically Pavlovian as you anticipated seeing your love. Corbeau didn't look up when the door opened, hyper-focused on whatever he was working on, but he did give you a gentle wave with one hand, and you saw a hint of a smile grace his lips for a moment.
"Hi!" you said, approaching his desk. "You ready?"
He definitely wasn't. He was still staring at his computer, his jacket was slung over the back of his chair, and he'd loosened his tie a little. You knew if you'd come 15 minutes later he would have had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows as well. Part of you wished you'd been late.
"Mm hmm," Corbeau replied absentmindedly, and you waited patiently as he typed for just a few more seconds before shutting his laptop and giving you his full attention.
"Okay," he finally said, standing up and grabbing his jacket. As he shrugged it on, you stepped into his space and tightened his tie, enjoying the warmth of his closeness and the ever-present toxicity of his scent. "Hi."
"Hi," you said again as you felt his hands rest lightly on your waist. You smiled when he leaned in to kiss you.
It was a greeting peck; warm, short, and sweet, but when Corbeau leaned back, his eyes were pulled together in confusion. His fingers tightened, pressing into your skin, and before you could ask him what was wrong, he was leaning in again.
Corbeau kissed you deeply this time, his lips pushing yours open and his tongue gliding along yours before grazing against the roof of your mouth. It took you off guard and had your knees melting. Corbeau held you steady, and your own hands gripped his jacket as a soft, almost-embarrassing whimper escaped your throat.
"What is that?" Corbeau asked between kisses, his voice low and dark in a way that sent a bolt of heat straight from your ears to your core. "Why do you taste so good?"
You slid your arms up, wrapping them around his neck to anchor yourself as he continued to kiss you, not letting you answer as he hungrily sought out the sweet, lingering flavor in your mouth.
"Gingersnaps," you gasped when he finally gave you a chance to breathe. "I passed a bakery on the way here and they had fresh cookies."
The sound that came from Corbeau's throat was somewhere between a groan and a growl, and it was accompanied by him reaching down to grab you by the thighs, setting you on his desk and pressing himself against you until every line of your bodies met.
"God," he said, his lips and tongue finding yours again. "I want to devour you."
You throbbed. Every part of your body was screaming at you to let him do just that. You clung to him, holding him as close as you could as his hands slid up and started to graze the skin just under the hem of your shirt.
"Corbeau," you said, the responsible side of your mind breaking through your lust-fogged daze.
Corbeau just hummed, kissing you again and sliding his hands further up your shirt. You turned your head to the side, and it didn't deter him, he just kissed a trail down your jaw and neck.
"We have to be at the restaurant in like twenty minutes."
"They can wait," Corbeau replied. His lips reached your collarbone and he paused there, his mouth opening over the soft skin and sucking gently.
"'Beau..." you'd wanted it to sound like a protest, but it came out as a breathy moan. It didn't help that your hands seemed to have a mind of their own, your fingers threading into his hair and pulling him closer.
Corbeau's lips found yours again, the kiss so deep and needy it pushed you back until you had to let go over him to brace one hand on the desk. With his forehead pressed against yours and his heavy breath washing over your face, Corbeau traced his fingers over the waistband of your pants.
"You had a treat before dinner, now I want one too."
