(I was listening to "Hit me baby one more time" while making this... Don't judge me-)

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A fling. That was what this.. "thing" was supposed to be. A simple fling. A one time thing. But no. It's grown into something reoccurring..

This man.. By the Gods was he so enticing. Thomas couldn't resist going back to him. He couldn't resist bringing him home almost every other night. He couldn't resist him.

That's what was happening right now. He had the man pinned to his desk, his white frilled shirt unbuttoned down his chest, his hair all disheveled and crazy, dark bruises marking the soft skin of his neck and shoulders, decorating them nicely.

Thomas' coat was off, his own white frilled shirt unbuttoned down his chest. His hair, an already messy mass of curls, seemed to be even messier, if possible. He was panting against the man's skin, sweat beading against his brow.

Thomas held the man's hands tightly in his own as he kept him pinned against his desk.

This feeling.. It was addictive. Dangerously addictive. Thomas couldn't get enough of it. He didn't think he ever could.