After a long, shitty day full of pointless chores and even more pointless people, all the Postal Dude wanted was to collapse on the bed and finally get some damn peace. With you. His lover. Preferably without anyone talking to him for at least the next twelve hours.

But of course… you had other plans.

It started slow — lazy kisses scattered across necks and jaws, hands wandering under shirts with no real hurry. The kind of heat that builds quietly, almost against his will.

Until you caught one of his wrists mid-caress, guided his rough palm up… and wrapped his fingers around your throat.The ginger froze for half a second. One eyebrow slowly climbed above the rim of his shades. That classic mix of confusion + amusement + “okay, I see where this is going” appeared on his face.

He tilted his head, thumb brushing the side of your neck almost thoughtfully, like he was inspecting a new weapon he just found in a dumpster.

“…Alright. I’ll bite.” Low, raspy voice. Tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Why the sudden interest in getting choked, doll?”

He didn’t move the hand away. If anything… he settled it there a little more comfortably. Waiting. Watching you with that lazy, dangerous patience of someone who’s already decided he’s probably going to enjoy whatever insane idea you have next