𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴.

Jules and Maia start comparing their recent Hinge hookups to see who’s had the worst one night stand. You listen, amused and thankful you have no horror story to add this time.

“He came, rolled off of me, then immediately called his mom after!” Maia taps her finger on the tabletop as she lists the mystery man’s actions. “While I was still lying there!”

“Jules, honey, I think she’s got you beat.” You chime in with a faux frown.

“You know what? Fine by me!” Jules snorts and downs the last sip of her Heineken.

This contest has no real winners.

“Ok enough about our sad love lives,” Maia shakes her head. “What about that sexy scientist you’re dating?”

“Ooh, yes. Let’s talk about hot nerd!” Jules is of course all ears. Hot nerds are exactly her type.

“We’re not dating.” You stress for what feels like the millionth time since this arrangement between you and Miguel began. “We’re just.. hanging out.”

The excuse sounds as lame as it feels to say.

“Oh, do you fuck everyone you hang out with? Because we hangout,” Jules waves a finger between the two of you. “And I don’t fuck you.”

“You know what I mean.” You shove her shoulder. It hardly deters her from grilling you with more questions.

“So you and the scientist—”

“—Geneticist.” You correct. You don’t know why. He’s not here to pat you on the head for it.

“Potato, tomato. You two are seeing each other, exclusively, but you still don’t have a title?” Jules squints at you.

You hate when she puts things the way that they actually are. Though, it never really bothered you before that you couldn’t call him your boyfriend because you were never looking for one.

Casual sex works for you. Casual sex with Miguel works really well.

Now you realize that, in addition to him not being your boyfriend, you can’t even call him a friend either.

You barely know anything about him because he won’t let you in. Hell, you're in a bar telling your friends that you and him “hang out” because you aren’t crass enough to say that he fucks you and sends you home before the sun comes up. You don't even see him in daylight hours.

Jules is waiting for an answer but your heart is lodged in your throat. You just shake your head. No. You don’t have a title. You don’t have any place in his life.

Maia can see that the question has brought your mood down a bit so she tries to give a positive spin. “I mean it’s only been two months…maybe that little nerd just needs a little more convincing.”

There's no way to make Miguel O'Hara do anything he doesn't want to— you know this, but you're still curious.

“Convincing how?”

“Wellllll,” Maia fishes around in her purse until she pulls out what looks like a sauce packet. “I do have this.”

“I don’t really see how ketchup is going to help her, Maia.” Jules deadpans.

“It’s not ketchup! It’s-It’s one of those like, horny.. honey packet thingies. You know, the ones that make you… excited.” She explains with a blush.

The sip of your vodka soda you just took doesn't go down your throat right.

“Excuse me?" You cough. Jules pats your back. She's in just as much shock.

"Why do you have one of these, Maia?”

“Because I’m not a prude and I like to try new things!" She snarks. "Anyway, I think it would be fun for you and for him. Go rock his dorky world and see how he feels about you in the morning!” She tosses the packet at you and you scramble to catch it.

You start down at it in contemplation. You’re certainly no prude either. Especially not after everything you and Miguel have done. Though, it’ll be really embarrassing if it changes nothing and he’s still just as cold to you after.

“Dooo it. Dooo it. Dooo it.” Jules chants. She waves her hand to get Maia to join in and Maia does. They both chant in unison now. “Dooo it. Dooo it. Dooooo it.”

God, they're always so belligerent when they drink.

“I dunno..” You stall.

“We dare you.” Maia says.

“We double—no, triple dog dare you." Jules adds on. "Don't be a scaredy cat!"

You look down at the packet resting on the table again. If nothing changes, well, nothing changes. The worst that can happen is the worst still happening.

“Ok fine, what the hell.” You roll your eyes and rip the corner off the packet. “Sláinte.” You squeeze the whole thing out onto your tongue before you can second guess it.

“WOOOOO!” They both cheer.

You swallow it and chase it with the last of your vodka soda. The aftertaste has a faint tinge of regret, though it’s too late to go back. Your fate has officially been sealed.

“How long until it kicks in?” You almost want to brush the taste off your tongue. You can taste the honey for sure but there's something artificial underneath.

“No clue, girl. I haven’t tried it yet so you’re my little guinea pig.” Maia tweaks your nose. You frown.

“Alcohol might kickstart it sooner.” Jules tips her head at you. “You may wanna head on over to lover boy’s before you wig out in front of everyone at the bar.” She wiggles her fingers in your face with a cackle.

You brush her hand to the side. “Yeah, yeah. I’m booking the Uber.”

The area was crawling with drivers looking to pick up drunk bar patrons in need of a ride home so you had no problem finding one.

You find your chauffeur for the night in Mary. A middle aged lady who you would trust with your life and maybe a pair of knitting needles.

After confirming and paying, you bid your girls a good night and set off in the back of a Toyota Rav4 to Miguel’s apartment.

He has no idea you’re even on your way. If your mind weren’t so foggy from the drinks and the.. stimulant you’d recognize that this is not a good idea. Not even a little bit. 

You never stopped to run it by him, though you should’ve because you never do surprise visits. All your meetups in the past have been on his terms. Miguel calls and you come. That’s how it’s always been.

You can’t approach unless he wants you to and doing too much will drive him away completely. He’s like a feral alley cat in that way. He’d certainly warmed up to you a bit. Enough to fuck you senseless at least. That’s why you put up with his standoffish nature.

Miguel is the best you’ve ever had, bar none. Which may also be why you’re not thinking straight.

All you can really think about is his hands all over your body, caressing and groping the way that he does when it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. The hungry way that he kisses you, like he’d devour you whole if he could.

How his wet kisses trail down your body from behind your ear to your throat, your collarbone, your chest, your nipples, the plane of your stomach, your inner thighs and your soaking wet clit.

You can’t wait for him to slide past your lips and fill you up nice and deep until he has nothing left to give and—

Oh. Oh.

It definitely just kicked in. If you couldn’t already tell from the thoughts you were having, the egregious amount of wetness forming between your thighs would be your next clue.

You start to feel increasingly warm all over like someone lit a match inside you. That fire beneath your skin is extra concentrated between your thighs. You hate to admit it but it feels… good. Jules and Maia won’t let you live it down once you give them the full report they’ll be demanding afterward but right now you don’t care.

Your body is a live wire, raw and sensitive to the touch. To every touch. At one point, you nearly choke on your moan after hitting a particularly deep pothole.

Mary apologizes and you sheepishly brush it off, the jolt went straight to your clit and you can barely keep up appearances. It makes you want to cry out when usually you just want to curse your mayor for not getting these things fixed.

Shifting around and crossing your legs doesn’t help. It just makes your nipples press against the fabric of your dress and the rough seatbelt glide across your neck. Two of your most erogenous zones. You have to bite your bottom lip to hold everything in but even that feels good.

God, you’re a mess and no one’s even touched you yet.

Your breaths are shallow and they barely fill your lungs. It makes you lightheaded and dizzy which doesn’t help your situation at all. You didn’t even think about the side effects it could have on you, too caught up in Miguel.

You have to roll the window down a bit to get some air on your face and cool yourself off. Miguel’s place is coming up as you recognize the buildings on this route.

Just keep it together you think to yourself.

You fly out of the car before it can really come to a true, complete stop and mutter a quick thanks to your driver. If she picked up on your behavior, she doesn’t let on and you’re thankful for it.

The walk through the ornate lobby to his building, one of the tallest in the city, is muscle memory at this point. You could walk off the elevator right up to his doorstep blindfolded. By now, even the doorman knows you. You don’t have to tell him who you’re here for and he knows exactly which button to push for you.

You both love and hate that. You take up enough space for Miguel’s doorman to recognize you but that’s just about all the space you take up in his world.

It makes you wonder if you’re the only regular visitor Miguel gets or if there are other women who get off on the twentieth floor and knock on the same door as you.

Before the elevator doors can close all the way, a woman rushes in nearly out of breath. She’s drop dead gorgeous, tall and svelte, like a model. Maybe she is one.

“Glad I caught you guys.” Her laugh is breathless and perfect. Her voice is silky smooth. “Twentieth floor ple—Oh! Nevermind, I see you’ve already got it.” She smiles at Hank, the man working the elevator tonight.

Jealousy distracts you from your aroused state momentarily. She’s new to you. Maybe she just moved into the building or maybe she’s usually out around the time you normally come over. Either way, your shared destination makes you bristle like a cat.

It doesn’t help that she’s suddenly appeared, just after you wondered if anyone else came up to see Miguel besides you, like a bad omen.

Your stomach is in knots when both of you leave the elevator. The scowl forms before you can help it. There’s a real possibility she could be heading to Miguel’s and your visit being a complete surprise doesn’t help your anxiety. It’s not until she tells you goodnight and turns left, instead of toward Miguel’s place, that you let out a breath of relief.

The green eyed monster goes back to her cave.

You hate the comfort you get from seeing her go the other way. It’s superficial at best. There could still be others.

It hardly matters now, you’re still on a mission that culminates at Miguel’s front door. Your knuckles rap against the wood. You hear nothing for a few moments and then there’s the sound of shuffling feet before the door opens to reveal Miguel who can barely fit in the frame.

He’s still in his lab coat, dress slacks and shoes, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He must’ve just come home from work.

Miguel gives you a scrutinizing once over. Your dress feels sluttier now in front of him and you fight the urge to pull it down. You wish you’d checked your makeup and hair in the car ride over because now you’re not sure how put together you look standing before him.

He waits for you to offer an explanation. Forcing your hand without a single word.

“Surprise.” You offer lamely. It’s a surprise alright and judging from the look on his face, not a welcome one. He just blinks but it’s more of what he doesn’t say that has you antsy.

“Did you leave something over here?” Miguel asks gruffly.

“No I just.. I just, um..” You trail off. How can you even begin to explain your situation in a way that isn’t completely embarrassing?

“Just what? I’m a bit busy right now so make it quick.”

God, he sounds so annoyed. You hate it.

Looking up into his eyes seems more daunting than before. You find it hard to meet his gaze and even harder to articulate what it is you came here for. It’s too bad the honey just makes you horny and not bold or courageous.

He grips your chin and tilts your head back so that you have to make eye contact with him. Your pupils are blown wide with lust and you know he can see that. Nothing gets past him.

Miguel tuts and brushes a thumb across your bottom lip. Instinctively, your lips part ever so slightly for your tongue to dart out and wet it.

His voice is softer this time, like you might bolt if he gets too loud. “Missed me, did you?”

You nod. Honesty is the best policy after all.

He dips his head so that his lips are at the shell of your ear.

“I don’t like surprises, chula, you know that.” He reprimands like you should know better when you barely know anything about him. As if you actually have a shared rapport beyond the walls of his bedroom.

You almost laugh at the notion that you know him enough to know him habitually. The things he does and doesn’t do.

You can’t find it in you to argue, though, not when you’re this needy.

“I know.” Your chin tilts down as your gaze hits the floor. He lets you hide.

“I wouldn’t normally do this.. it’s just that I was out with my friends and they dared me to take this honey packet thing that makes you horny and now I am.. so now I’m here. Sorry.”

Your eyes meet his after your candid explanation and they have just the faintest hint of amusement shining through crimson.

“Get in here.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Hell, you barely need to be told once.

The door closes behind you and you’re swept away to his office instead of his bedroom. You’re too blissed out to even notice because his hands are finally on you and even if it’s just your wrist it’s enough to reignite that flame inside you.

You land with a squeal when he sits you on the small arm chair in front of his huge mahogany desk. It takes up almost as much room as he does with his large stature.

You’ve never seen the inside of his home office before. Just his bedroom and the path it takes to get there. It grates.

Miguel slides back into his chair behind the desk, eyes flitting across the screens of three different monitors. He gets right back to work on whatever was so important that it had to come home with him.

You’ve never really understood his profession and he’s certainly never bothered to explain it to you. You watch him work, completely in the zone, completely ignoring you. It goes on for longer than you thought it would, figuring he would take care of something real quick and then take care of you.

“Miguel..” You whine, shifting in your seat which you learned in the car ride over does not help. If you were more sober and clearheaded you would cringe at how desperate you sound.

The sound of keys on his keyboard is the only answer you get.

You don’t get him at all. Is he mad at you?

“I thought—” You begin only to be cut off.

“You thought you could barge in here and call the shots? That I would drop everything the second you show up unannounced?”

You’re afraid to say anything that might make him mad. Still it’s better than those elusive one word answers he usually gives.

The wheels on his chair roll across the hardwood floor as he shifts over to get a look at you. His heated eyes glide over you slowly like magma down the side of a volcano.

“It doesn’t work like that. I told you I was busy so you’ll just have to wait until I’m not.”

“I know, I know.” Your eyes roll and you look away from him in favor of staring at the wall. “You call the shots. Everything’s on your terms. Trust me I get it.”

“Well when you show up unannounced I start to think that maybe you don’t get it.” Miguel’s words come out harsher than they were intended to but you don’t care.

“Bad day at work?” You tilt your head and bat your lashes.

“Something like that.” He replies, more subdued than before. He’ll never admit it but you being here has calmed him down substantially.

The two of you never talk enough to argue so Miguel has no clue that you can volley the attitude right back over the net at him. “Cool. Don’t take it out on me.” 

You grab your purse and stand to leave. Clearly this was a mistake. You already know the apology will never come so you decide not to stay where you aren’t wanted.

“Sit down.” Miguel orders without even looking up from the monitor.

You scoff.

“I’m leaving.” Your hand barely touches the handle of his office door before he’s up and at your back, reaching to stop you. In the middle of wondering how he got over to you so fast and so quietly, his mouth is at your ear saying something you never thought you’d hear from him. Please.

It’s so soft you thought you imagined it at first but lightning strikes twice in his office because he asks again.

“Please. Stay.” Miguel’s massive palm grips your middle and cages you against him. Against all of him.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. I may not be a geneticist or whatever the hell you do that requires you to wear a lab coat but I am not dumb.”

“You’re the furthest thing from it.” He agrees.

You don’t know how to react to that quasi compliment. You don’t really get much from him aside from how wet you are or how good you feel around him.

Your shoulders fall with the decision to stay. He lets go of you only to let you turn and face him. There’s about as much desire in his as there is in yours only he’s not on anything.

“I still have a little work to do but I can take care of you while you wait.”

A plea. A compliment. A compromise. All in the same night.

“Okay.”

“Relax, hermosa. You can take it.” Miguel coaches as you sink down onto his semi hard length. It’s true, you can take it. You certainly have in the past.

You groan when you’ve taken him completely to the hilt, thighs resting atop his with your back to his chest. Your head falls back into the crook of his neck as you try to get your bearings. It’s common practice between the two of you to forgo the condoms, (Miguel prefers it that way and you’re on birth control anyway), but the honey packet has you wishing just this once that there was a barrier keeping you from feeling so much of him.

He slips in easy enough from how wet you are but he carves a path the whole way, molding every part of your body to him in a way that can’t be undone.

Enough time has passed for you to be acclimated to his size and feel, you know Miguel knows this so why hasn’t he started moving yet?

Your eyes flutter open at the sound of his keyboard clacking again. Seriously?

“Guel..” You whine, desperately trying to ride him. The sudden iron grip on your waist halts your movement. He won’t let you fuck him.

“Sit still, I’m working.” If you hadn’t looked back to catch his expression you would’ve missed the sly smirk his tone did nothing to convey.

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you pictured Miguel taking care of you.

“But..” You pout. “I need you.”

You’re past the point of caring how you sound and too clouded by lust and alcohol to realize he’s typing absolute gibberish just to seem busy.

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog indeed. And the beautiful woman with the sopping wet pussy will just have to sit here on Miguel’s lap with her too-fucking-mini dress bunched around her perfect hips while he warms his slowly hardening cock in her. He may have conceded earlier but you still needed a punishment for showing up out of the blue like that.

“All soaking wet for me. How’d that happen, hm?” Miguel nips playfully at your neck. Not enough to break your skin but maybe you wish it was.

“The honey packet Maia gave me.” You gasp when two of his fingers come between your legs to rub against your clit with barely any pressure behind them. You could cum just like this you think, if he would just let you move—

His fingers are gone in an instant. The way you clench around him is likely what gave it away that you were nearing the edge.

It’s sweet torture but torture all the same. “I’m gonna kill her.” You mumble under your breath.

“I’m gonna thank her personally.” Miguel huffs out a laugh before licking those same two fingers clean. You’d laugh too if you weren’t so high strung. It’s nice seeing him playful like this.

“Miguel, I can feel you getting hard inside me just fuck me already.” You beg. You even clench and unclench around him a few times to try and push him over the edge. He feels every pulse. He just doesn’t care.

“Cállate. I need to concentrate.” He’s typing real sentences this time not that it matters, all the scientific jargon may as well be Greek to you.

You keep fluttering around him trying to make yourself cum while he works on his report. It barely deters him but it’s starting to work for you, enough that little mewls start spilling from your lips before you can stop them. But being quiet is the least of your worries now not when bliss is so close around the corner. Not when your pussy feels so full of him, completely hard.

Deep in your stomach there’s a warmth beginning to spread, the start of your release like a wave about to crest . Your lips part to release what would’ve been a throaty moan now a surprised cough tumbles out caused by Miguel’s hand wrapped around your throat and squeezing so hard that you can’t breathe.

“Oh, nena, you’re making too much noise now I’ve lost my train of thought.” He tuts. “Guess I’ll just have to start over.”

You want to say something, anything, in protest as he backspaces all his work thus far but his hand still has your throat in a vice grip. You can’t breathe but god can you gush all over him in response. You didn’t even know you liked being choked.

“It’s gonna take me even longer now to finish cause I have to make sure you keep quiet, baby.” Miguel slowly lets go of your neck so you can gulp down some much needed air.

You’re dizzy, all five senses grossly impaired but there’s oxygen rushing to your brain now at least. His hand clamps around your throat once more and he brings you face to face.

“Don’t distract me. I’m typing with one hand now and we don’t want you to pass out before I finish do we?”

You shake your head no and pray he’s secretly a super fast one-handed typist. And the game resumes.

He is typing faster this time and the grip on your throat allows for some air to come through. You suppose you should be thankful but you’re too busy trying not to pass out or explode whichever comes first. The corners of your vision are getting fuzzy and you feel like you’ve stepped outside of your body. Whatever he’s typing must be important.

Something something multiverse theory who cares? Not you.

Your eyelids droop in tandem with the coil in your stomach tightening in pleasure. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip in an effort to keep quiet. You know he would absolutely let you pass out just to teach you a lesson so you try not to rock the boat with too loud moans and whimpers.

It’s only when tears pool in your eyes that relief comes in the form of his gravely voice at your ear saying “Done.”

You’re done too. With a strangled cry you burst from all the pleasure that seemed to build exponentially inside you with every word he typed.

“Just like that pretty girl.” Miguel’s lips are at your throat, your jawline, your collarbone, all over as you gasp. “Yeah you did so good for me you deserve it baby.”

It’s a heady feeling you get from all the air after being so deprived combined with how satisfied you are finally getting your release since the honey entered your system.

But it’s not nearly enough. No. You’re an insatiable beast now. A succubus meticulously crafted for Miguel’s ruin.

“More.” Your voice is hoarse and in your position it’s mistaken for a plea but it’s meant entirely as a command.

But Miguel knows. He’s quick on the uptake and immediately grabs you by your hips and bounces you up and down like you’ve been craving all night.

The only sounds in the room are lewd and loud. Your squelching and moans, his determined grunts, the creak of his computer chair that may need to be replaced after this. You two never need words.

He doesn’t use any to lift you and turn you around in his lap so that you’re finally facing each other as you ride him. He’s wordless when he tugs your dress down far enough for him to suck a nipple into his mouth and grope the other breast in his large hand. And you don’t have to say a word when you place that hand back on your throat to get him to squeeze within an inch of your life.

His eyes meet yours in a silent dare to cum before you faint on top of him.

You taste salty sweat when you lick your lips, smell the musky aroma of your arousal coating the both of you, hear a wet plap, plap, plap, plap keeping time with a set of rough upward thrusts and black is the last thing you see before the dam breaks and sprays all over Miguel’s lap.

When you come to he’s still fucking you through it, chasing his own high. You caught him mid dialogue with no clue of what he’d said before.

“Lightheaded already, mamita?” You can’t form a response and he knows it, the bastard. “That stupid look on your face.. you don’t even care about breathing do you? No you just care about how deep I can get inside you right? Being my little toy?

You shouldn’t like the way he’s talking to you given your reaction earlier but it makes you so much wetter. Still, You frown. “Don’t talk to me like that.” You slur.

“You don’t like it? Don’t cum around my cock so hard then.”

“Miguel.” You try to warn but it’s feeble.

“You mad at me, baby? Don’t be mad at me beautiful.” He hugs you tight to his front but not for intimacy’s sake, so that your clit has no choice but to grind against his pelvis as you ride him. “I just wanna make this perfect pussy cum over and over and over again.”

“Fuck you.” You bite as your third orgasm of the night creeps up on you. It’s too much to handle but he’s making you handle it and trying to play innocent about it.

“That would be the point, doll.” His chuckle is deep and sexy and it infuriates you to no end that he can even be snarky right now when you’re barely holding it together. “Your face right now mm so fucked out and cock drunk that you can’t even frown at me like you want to.”

“Guel please.. I..” You don’t know whether you’re begging him to let you cum or to not make you cum but you know you can’t take either of those options right now. It’s too much. Everything. And you tell him so.

“I’m just doing what you asked, pretty girl. This is what you wanted right? To get fucked so good like this? That’s why you came to me and not someone else cause I’m the only one that can.”

“Shut up.” You pant, movements getting sloppier and hurried.

“No.” Miguel grins seeing the crazed look in your eye. “I’m not gonna shut up and I’m not gonna stop making you cum either so stop being mad at me and let me make you feel good.”

You decide to stop fighting and that’s when your orgasm crashes into. You clutch his shoulders leaving half moons where your fingernails meet his skin. The rhythm your hips follow is all their own and all you can do is let it happen until the undulations slow. Your head lolls backward cradled by one of Miguel’s hands as his lips meet the base of your throat in a sloppy kiss that turns into a passionate suck with a hickey as a parting gift.

His hot tongue trails up, up, up and stops at your ear. “Good girl.” Miguel purrs and you shiver.

“Still mad?”

“Yes.” You don’t mean it.

“Kiss and make up then.” He holds your chin in place while his tongue explores your mouth. Your head is spinning too much to do anything other than follow his lead. Luckily he’s gentle but no less passionate than before, sucking your tongue, biting your lip, licking the taste of you out of your mouth.

He’s filthy. Miguel only parts to let you breathe and instructs you to bend over his desk. You’re lying on his keyboard but neither of you seem to care. The task of sinking into you much more important to you both.

You can give him one more. You feel like a bottomless pit but at the same time your brain is begging you to tap out, certain you’ve had more than enough.

Miguel is deceptively gentler this time. Maybe he knows you can only take so much more. It’s unnerving. This is how a lover would do it and there is no love to be found between the two of you.

“I needed this.” He admits rocking into you, hitting that spot once again. “Needed you.” He clarifies in a rush. It spills out of him like he’s the drunk one here.

You don’t acknowledge it with anything other than a moan. You know how skittish he is. It’s best to pretend he never said it even if it makes your heart flutter.

Then you remember the whole reason you even took the packet in the first place and think maybe it’s okay if you’re vulnerable too. You can both blame it on the heat of the moment, the drinks or the drugs in your case.

You’ll both have something to regret and maybe that’ll make it okay. And so you speak up.

“Are you mine?” It feels so juvenile insinuating a man like this is a thing to be had. By you no less. But it’s out there and you can’t take it back.

“Who else’s would I be? No one else can put up with me but you.” His pace picks up speed, climax nearing and for the first time tonight he lets it.

“Am I yours?” If it’s even possible you feel more pathetic than before. But you need to know if anything will change tonight.

Miguel falters. Almost imperceptibly. Almost. You don’t know him completely but you’ve known the way he fucks for too long for that to get past you.

To his credit, he recovers quickly. Seconds from falling apart, he leans over you, chest on your back pressing you into his desk and growls in your ear, “You’re the only woman in Nueva York I give a fuck about. That should be enough.”

It isn’t. But you’ll take it.

He wishes he could tell you the truth. But everyone that belongs to him gets taken from him. This is how he keeps you a little longer, he thinks.

Before you know it you cum again, your body had always been so synced with his.

“I’m yours,” He reiterates, the bruising grip on your hips his way of desperately trying to make you understand. To read between the lines and see what he can’t say but wants to so badly.

You moan in defeat, pleasure and pain. Mostly the former. It’ll have to do.

Hot rivulets of his cum paint the walls of your puffy wet cunt and you get the feeling that this is about all the warmth you’ll ever get from him.

Your entire body is spent, you’re so weak that you can’t lift your head from his keyboard. The text in his report trails off from actual scientific findings to just:

fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffin.