Sean drifted in a hazy warmth, his entire world narrowed to the soft, pliant pressure moving against his lips. His head was a lead weight, his eyes refusing to open, content to exist solely in the rhythm of their kiss. A ragged breath, hot and hurried, washed over the sensitive curve of his neck. His body arched in a sudden, involuntary jolt, a shiver sparking down his spine that sent his heart hammering against his ribs.
The gentle kisses tracing his jawline sharpened into light, teasing bites, followed by the slow, deliberate suction that left blooming red marks in their wake. He felt the slick trail of saliva cool on his skin as the other man released a shaky exhale.
"Sean…"
The voice was a low rumble. Sean managed to crack his eyes open, catching a fractured glimpse of sharp, intense eyes locked on him. But the face itself was a smudge, a watercolor painting left in the rain. The scent, however, was brutally clear, a potent mix of musk and sandalwood that wrapped around him, intoxicating and inescapable.
"We should stop." The words were rough, a teasing whisper ghosting against his earlobe that felt anything but sincere.
Even through the thick veil of alcohol, Sean couldn't pretend the grip on his waist or the magnetic pull low in his gut was unpleasant. If anything, a desperate, clawing part of him screamed for it to never end.
His hand slid up, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of the nameless man's neck, and he pulled him down. Sean sealed the distance with a brief, claiming kiss before murmuring against his mouth, "We need to finish what we started."
"You might regret this."
"That's my problem to have. Right now, this... is ours."
***
Sean's eyes flew open, wide with horror. His hand shot out, shoving against Victor's shoulder as the memory crashed over him with the force of a physical blow.
That damn memory. Of all the times to resurface, why now?
And more importantly,
How could he remember it with such brutal, sensory clarity?
He'd been blackout drunk, hadn't he?
So why, when he'd woken up alone and wrecked in that hotel room, had his mind been a perfect, pristine blank?
You absolute, colossal idiot, Sean cursed himself, a fresh wave of self-loathing crashing over him.
Oh, for God's sake.
How could he have been sitting in his boss's lap, not just tolerating it, but enjoying that man's kiss?
This was insane. He needed to get out of his job—No. He needed to get out of this city. Yes, that was it. He had to pack his bags, find a new job, and disappear.
"Why?" The man's voice was infuriatingly calm, as if he genuinely couldn't comprehend what he'd done wrong.
Sean patted at Victor's hands. Those strong, confident hands that were still wrapped possessively around his waist. The older man didn't budge.
He flinched, jerking his head away the second he felt the low rumble of Victor's voice and the whisper of his breath against his ear.
"Why, Sean ean? Don't you like it?"
Oh, that voice.
Damn it.
That was the very voice that had dismantled his defenses that night. Sean had absolutely no intention of tumbling down that same rabbit hole again.
With a surge of panicked strength, he tore himself free. He managed to wrench out of Victor's hold. But in his frantic escape, his legs betrayed him. He stumbled backward, his balance lost, and crashed onto the floor with a sickening thud.
The impact echoed in the quiet room. Victor was on his feet instantly, moving toward him. Sean, looking up from the cold floor, felt the blood drain from his face.
"Sean, are you okay?"
He couldn't form a word. His tongue felt like a dead weight in his mouth.
All he could register was the sharp,bright pain now blooming hotly along his lower back.
Sean's eyes swam with unshed tears as he fought to ride out the wave of pain. In one swift, effortless motion, Victor scooped him up and deposited him back into the plush office chair.
"Is it that bad? Do we need to go to the hospital?"
Sean managed a weak, frantic shake of his head.
"Are you sure? Here." Victor offered a glass of water, his voice unnervingly calm.
"Drink this."
"No, I don't want it."
That was a disastrous idea. What would he even say to a doctor? Lying would be futile; he was certain a medical professional would take one look at him and know exactly what had happened. And the thought of facing that humiliating diagnosis with Victor standing right there… he'd never be able to recover.
So he focused on the only thing he could control: his breathing. In, out, slow and steady… until the world tilted suddenly as he was lifted clean off his feet.
"Hey—what are you doing?! Put me down!" Sean's hands came up, slapping ineffectually at his boss's broad shoulders.
"We're going to the hospital."
"No! I don't want to—put me down, damn it!" His fists thumped against the man's solid chest, a desperate, panicked rhythm.
"Stop fighting me. You're clearly in agony."
"You're making it worse! Just put me down!"
Victor's eyes widened slightly at the raw plea, and he immediately, carefully, lowered Sean back into the chair.
"Ughh!" A sharp, strained groan was punched from Sean's lungs.
Silently, he cursed his boss for manhandling him so carelessly. He understood the gesture was meant to be responsible, to help. But honestly—his body felt like a fragile, overstrung instrument, and it simply couldn't tolerate being played so roughly.
The sudden ringtone shattered the tense quiet in the room. Sean's eyes flickered up to meet his boss's, their gazes catching for a fleeting second before Victor's hand rose, gently carding through his hair in a soothing, almost absent-minded rhythm.
"Hello, Sonya." Victor brought the phone to his ear, his voice shifting into a professional baritone.
Sonya?
His secretary, right?
Without fully realizing it, Sean found his attention glued to the man before him. He watched the subtle shift in Victor's expression. The way his eyes squeezed shut in a flash of frustration, the tight clench of his jaw.
Sean didn't know what had caused it, but he was sure it was just work. It had to be.
His thoughts drifted, becoming secondary to the sensation of those fingers moving gently through his hair. It was a hypnotic rhythm, somehow dulling the persistent ache in his lower back.
His blinks grew slow and heavy as he secretly traced the lines of Victor's face. He started with the sharp, severe brows, then moved to the startlingly light blue irises, framed by a sweep of dark, curled lashes. His gaze traveled down the straight, perfectly defined bridge of his nose to its sharp tip, and finally… to his lips.
Sean lingered there far too long. His mind simply went quiet, blank and static, as he stared at that soft, pink curve.
"Feeling better?"
The question, low and intimate, jolted him. His eyelids fluttered as he felt the gentle stroke migrate from his hair to cup his left cheek, a thumb brushing his skin.
"Y-yeah. Thank you," Sean managed, the words tripping clumsily over his tongue.
"Sean," Victor's voice was laced with a genuine regret that surprised him. "I feel terrible about this. Sonya just informed me I have a meeting starting in a few minutes."