#operatour

bass swells outside lounge's walls, repo's bag lost somewhere by the door. rich reds stains vision, lefebvre's features stealing his focus entirely, unfamiliar heat rushing through veins as he searches them. nathan doesn't remember how they ended up like this, manicured fingers wrapped around his aching cock, lewdly bared from fly. the lines, their exchange of words, blur —— he only came to drop off the requested files. but they always end up this way, don't they?

smoke flits from between lips absently, eyes rolling as gaze finds dominic struggling with bags. “ can't you see i'm busy? ” words border on annoyance, feigned as he stares. cigarette tucked loosely betwixt slender fingers, kept there as he pushes off the arm of the couch — coming closer, but certainly not to help. instead, he bends at his waist, open suit jacket falling open further. his free hand trails along the bulge of his bodyguard's bicep, over the curve of his shoulder. amusement clear on his tongue, “ the fuck do you need my help for with arms like those, anyway? ” nearer to a hum, daring to ghost a kiss to the exposed part of dominic's arm. “ . . . hm? were you a good boy today? — did you get what i asked for? ”

“ if i had it my way, i'd never let you go. ” a softly spoken yearning, the shine in his eyes twinkling with it. please don't go. the sheets are tangled beneath him, left unusually warm for the priest's bed — not oft holding two bodies instead of one. he's caught her by her wrist: fingers threaded into a loose circle. a gentle beg, not a demand. eyes curve over the hushed mess made of the waves of her hair, the clothes she clutches to bare skin, to where their flesh meets. his heart throbs.