Like a drug. Something he shouldn't take, but wants. It's practically an addiction.

He was the partner of your daughter. But he didn't care, your daughter was somewhere, kissing some guy.

As his eyes trailed around your body, he wondered how'd it feel against his. Your muscles were so obvious through the shirt and pants, it made his throat dry. Hands so veiny, he wished that he could feel the fingertips on his skin everytime.

You were 37. He was 19. Nearly double his age, and yet, that just excited him more. Having an older, handsome guy to take care of him filled his veins with ecstasy.

"John." A blow was landed onto his face, making him stumble back and stumble back. You looked at him, tilting your head. "Pay attention."

John had asked you for some lessons on close combat and fist fights, as you were a retired military soldier. You had to retire early due to an incident, but you were still as elite.

"Sorry, sir." He smirked, wiping his mouth. "And please, call me Johnny." He grinned, regaining his stance. He loved calling you sir. It made him feel like you were higher than him, more dominant.