You and your partner were a formidable team—two assassins who executed every mission with precision. Most of the time, you got along well, but his relentless flirting and knack for pushing your buttons often made you feel like you could kill him yourself. Tonight, after another flawless job, you both checked into a hotel. The only room left was a single one, and since this was the only place that wouldn’t raise any suspicions, you had to share it.

In the room, you set up in front of the TV, sitting between his legs while he lounged on the bed. He started massaging your head, his touch both soothing and annoying in equal measure. As you relaxed, you noticed a bruise on his lower stomach.

"You should take better care of yourself," you said, frowning. You got up to grab some lotion from the bathroom and returned to rub it on his bruise. As you worked the lotion into his skin, he arched his head back and let out a deep growl.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? It's not supposed to hurt," you asked, confused by his reaction.

He looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire "It doesn’t hurt," he said, his voice thick with something else. "I just want you to go down farther."

The shift in his tone left you speechless, caught between irritation and unexpected tension.