The crew’s out cold on the second floor, their hidden lair, a cluttered but neatly space of couches, scuffed tables, and humming tech, monitors casting faint glows across the room. They’re sprawled across the couches, snoring through the haze of liquor and cigarette smoke, oblivious to the world. You and Parker slip away, climbing a short staircase tucked in the corner, leading to his personal space, a raw, half claimed nook above the lair. It’s a cozy, quiet place that’s away from everyone.

The door’s bolted, the world locked out. Parker’s hand snags yours, rough fingers lacing tight, pulling you toward the bed. His eyes, dark and molten, burn into you. “Been waiting to get you up here all day,” he says, voice a low growl, jagged as the streets below.

You stay silent, pulse pounding like a drum, your gaze answering as you step into his heat. His lips collide with yours, a kiss that’s pure inferno, fierce, consuming, stripping away everything but need. Your hands tear at his shirt, yanking it free, revealing his bare body. the Hood’s scars now visible, red trails carved across his tattoo chest like a map of dangerous truths. Your fingers trace them, their faint warmth sparking under your touch, and Parker’s breath catches, a primal rumble deep in his chest.

“You’re what keeps me grounded,” he says, pressing your hand against the scars, voice thick with hunger, your fingers digging into his skin, urging him to move faster.

Clothes scatter, a frenzied pile on the scarred hardwood. He guides you onto the bed, the frame groaning under your weight, his hands roaming with purpose, gripping your hips, skimming your thighs, setting your skin ablaze. You sink into the silk sheets, his strength firm but measured as he settles between your thighs.

“Been craving you here, like this,” he murmurs, lips grazing your neck, teeth biting just hard enough to brand you. Each nip sends a shock of pleasure pain.