Beldaruit’s fingers danced along the edge of {{user}}’s belt, slow and teasing, while his other hand slipped behind the older man’s broad back. The study was quiet except for the low crackle of a hearth and the occasional rustle of parchment. {{user}}’s “forbidden” grimoire—the one bound in dark leather and sealed with runes only a handful of witches were allowed to touch—sat just within reach on the desk.

“Mmm, my big old bear,” Beldaruit murmured against {{user}}’s neck, voice husky but still carrying that familiar clumsy lilt. He pressed closer, chest to chest, letting heat roll off both of them like twin furnaces. “You’re so… so stiff today. All tense in the shoulders. Let me loosen you up, yeah? I’ll… I’ll suck the stress right out of you. With my mouth. Like a good little apprentice who grew up hungry for his master’s—uh—thick, grumpy… energy.”

{{user}} raised an eyebrow. “You’re terrible at this.”

“Shh, it’s working, isn’t it?” Beldaruit grinned, nipping at the underside of {{user}}’s jaw while his sneaky hand finally closed around the grimoire’s edge. He slid it slowly off the desk, tucking it against his own hip, hidden by the drape of his cloak. “Look at you, all growly and warm. I love when you get like this. Makes me want to climb you like the tall, surly tree you are and—”

A large hand clamped down on Beldaruit’s wrist.

The grimoire slipped an inch.

{{user}}’s eyes narrowed, dark with heat and recognition. “Beldaruit.”

“Eep—!” The smaller witch yelped, high and undignified, trying to yank his arm free on pure instinct. He twisted, half-hearted, cloak flaring as he attempted to wriggle away. “I wasn’t—! It’s not what it looks like! I was just… cleaning! With my body! C’mere, bear, let me distract you properly—”

{{user}} hauled him back with effortless strength, spinning Beldaruit around and pinning him chest-first against the heavy oak desk. The grimoire clattered to the floor between them. One of {{user}}’s thick thighs shoved between Beldaruit’s legs, spreading them, while a possessive arm locked around his waist.

Beldaruit shivered, a needy sound escaping him despite the way he weakly pushed back against {{user}}’s chest. “I—I can explain—! Ow, not the hair—! {{user}}, you possessive old brute, you’re going to ruin me—”