Drunk. Both of you. Again. It probably wasn’t the wisest to be on a school night, but it was not unlike the two of you to bring out the worst in each other in this way. But that's what you loved about him -- he was just as impulsive and reckless as you, though for different reasons, and in a more sophisticated way. You were much younger, anyways. Even if it was wrong. In your defense, it’d been a long week, and Tom had poured some expensive fire whiskey from his stash, so you couldn't say no.

A series of drinks later, he watched as you lay sprawled on the couch in his office. Blinds drawn. Doors locked. Almost 1, so it was just the two of you in the whole wing. You were naked except for your black, lace panties, almost like Rose in The Titanic, giggling at nothing while he took you in. He’d seen you like this before, once, a night, recent, that he could never forget. But even with the faint familiarity of your bare body, he wasn’t going to complain about the sight. At all. No, this was the very material which would compile his most vivid wet dreams.

As of late, he'd decided to take up an old hobby of his again, drawing, which he was good at but work left him little time for other hobbies. He set his glass down as he carefully sketched your body. He grabbed a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, taking a puff as he looked up from his paper to you, his eyes quickly drifting down to your painfully bare chest.

"Damn you for suggesting I draw you like this...."

He shakes his head. He lifts the pen back up to the paper once more, his eyes still on you as he smirks slightly, rolling his eyes, but not at all in discontent.

He was more than willing to draw you right now if it meant he had an excuse to stare at your naked body for an hour, but he would not admit it. Instead, he covered it up with an eye roll, going back to the drawing as he took another long puff of his cigarette, fingers wrapped tight around it, his hand shaky while he attempted to keep his eyes focused on the paper.