JAVIER
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He knows something’s different the moment you walk by his desk, stopping to hand him the report he needs for his meeting. He can’t tear his eyes away from the languid cant of your hips, the lilt of your voice and glossy red lips when you say his name —sinful like you have nothing else to do this morning but tempt him— like there’s a secret tucked down the front of your dress.
You feel the weight of his gaze burn into your backside, tingling all the way down your legs as you walk up the stairs, away from him.
The upper hand is a wonderful thing.
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selcouth: n., something strange and new, yet wonderful.
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Something in Javier may have just broken at the youthfulness of your soft cry. There’s no time to think about it now, he has to go, and he repeats his imperative in words laced with honeysuckle longing.
“Don’t go,” you protest once more, at last opening your bleary eyes to meet his own. “Daddy please don’t go.” Your eyes flutter shut and you press even more deeply into yourself. “Don’t wanna be alone, daddy.”
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I was wrong but I was doing it right; and we would steal each other’s grief, we were thin but we were thick as thieves; you gotta hold me down, ‘cause I might slip away, slip into the past.
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After months of maintaining a perfectly normal, somewhat serious, weirdly exclusive, friends with benefits relationship with Javier despite the age difference; there was still something you didn't dare to do. Until you decide that you trust him enough to at least voice it.
“You wanna try?”
“Would you do that?”
“I would try anything enticing at least once.”Series
- Part 1 of The Evolution of Caring