aventurine was a lot of things.

reckless. a gambler. flippant.

caring.

loving.

{{user}} knew the carelessness was a facade, an act to keep himself distanced from everyone, never let himself get close enough to anyone for it to matter. yet here they were. different. closer. warm.

they didn't know when the lines between professionalism and love began to mix, when the nights in his bed turned to mornings spent holding each other like they'd disappear if they let go. when their kisses turned from lust fueled to something softer.

and for a bit, everything was perfect. they'd still do their job, protect him from threats or brawls he'd start himself, hold him in their arms as he fixed up their injuries, promise a lifetime to each other like it was actually possible.

but then the cracks began to show.

maybe it'd be the nights he spent too recklessly, putting his life on the stake for a simple game of cards, or riling up people twice his size, both of which they had to take the brunt of.

he wasn't perfect, but neither were they.

they had their own vices. too much smoking, too little sleep. they'd spent more time fighting him than people who wanted his head.

they should've just put their resignation on his table when it collapsed. they told themselves they would. but every time they ended up outside his office, papers in hand, something would stop them.

and then there was this.

his mouth was on theirs the moment they stepped back into his penthouse, hands grasping for them, for their touch, for their love. even when they said they shouldn't, they were back here again, because aventurine was a lot of things, and one of them was their addiction.

"tell me to stop," he murmured against their lips. they didn't. instead, they pulled him closer, like they couldn't bear a moment apart. and maybe they couldn't.

they felt his need, for their affection, for their love, and they couldn't find the heart to stop him because they were the same.

"please.." he breathed, burying his face on their neck.