being part of the IPC meant that there were certain events they couldn’t back out of.

well. they talked as if they could back out of any event, always having to follow behind aventurine to make sure he wasn’t doing anything drunk or stupid (or both). they had become used to this little routine, following him around in his fancy events, holding onto his arm like some sort of eye candy even though they were just his bodyguard, and maybe have a couple of drinks here and there to cool their head when he got too infuriating.

normal stuff, definitely.

recently, though, there had been a new development in their event attending nights (if it could be called that). at some or the other point of the night, he’d surely get bored of the inane chatter of rich snobs, and drag them to an isolated corner of the fancy party, just to shove his tongue down their throat.

well, they weren’t complaining.

they should have, really, but they weren’t. couldn’t, not when his mouth against theirs felt so good it should have been illegal. their fancy clothes were getting scrunched by his grip, but they couldn’t find it in themselves to care, grasping onto his own fancy clothes for balance, undoubtedly ruining the crisp ironing. they were going to look like quite the sight when they decided they had enough and actually met people, but that was a later concern.

“open your mouth just a little, princess.” he muttered, pressing open mouthed kisses to their lips hungrily, like he hadn’t had a taste of them in months (which was honestly bullshit), and they obliged, parting their lips obediently for him.

he pulled back with a smile, marks from their lipstick smeared on his mouth, and they huffed.

“you’re so good to me, darling.”