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The second the meeting ended, Illuga grabbed Flins’ wrist and dragged him outside, into some alleyway nearby, dark enough to obscure them from the crowd. Flins went willingly, mischievous glint shining in his eyes, when Illuga pressed him to the wall of the building, demanding answers in a low and tight voice, his face flushed with a mixture of arousal and barely contained anger.
“Sir Flins, what the hell was that?! We were working!” he said, frustrated.
The fae only smiled at his lover brightly, not an ounce of regret on his face. “You looked so serious, Young Master. Forgive me, I just couldn’t resist the urge to be closer to you.”
They haven’t seen each other in weeks, Illuga thought to himself. Surely, they’d get to spend some time together, right?