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Summary
Carlos in a white button down, flirty smirk, brushed back hair, still wet from a shower and smelling like his strong, masculine cologne that set Charles' senses on a damn frenzy; made him feel at ease.
Guilty too.
Carlos kissed him wetly, large hand warm and resting on the small of Charles' back, low and close to being indecent and greedy. Charles' likes the roughness in Carlos' gestures and way of handling him.
It remind him of icy blue eyes and, broad shoulders, daring hands and bad fucking temper.
Charles shouldn’t care too much about Max being back. Charles shouldn’t even be thinking about him.
Yet, he inevitably does.
Or. Charles is a bit too infatuated with his new guy but Max texting him one Friday night out of nowhere after being gone for a year set his world in ugly, deep, addictive, consuming, confused fire.