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    Summary

    “So you were in the military then?” She tugs the jacket closer around herself, the warmth from his body heat and the smell of whatever cologne and a scent that's just him surrounding her.

    He brushes a hand over his moustache as he answers. “Not anymore, but yes. A while.”

    “Should I—should I be calling you sir then.” Holy shit, how fucking embarassing. She’s the original case study for Freud. It’s an innocent joke, except not really because she felt a weird heat floating around her stomach as she said that.

    “Is that something you'd like to call me?” She feels the heat turn to lava at his easy confidence. She crosses her legs to stave the feeling off and it seems he notices that.

    “Dunno.” She murmurs, feeling unsure. He brings a hand to rest on her thigh and she feels a shiver move through her body. He’s clearly pleased at the effect he has on her.

    “You don't know?” He rubs her thigh soothingly, experienced hands a calming weight, “Seems like you do know what you’d like to call me, Lewis.”

    —-

    or: making val a bear because my preferences are transparent

    Language:
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