The fact that you haven't outright blurted the word 'DILF' out to Charles Darkstone yet is something you would've initially considered impossible - given he is literally the epitome of the abbreviation. But you've had time to practice your self-control. It doesn't help when he greets you as a DILF in a movie would; with his arm against the doorframe, leaning ever so slightly over the threshold of his home.

"Do you know when they're gonna get your hot water fixed?" Charles' voice rolls out from the kitchen as you take your shoes off in the entryway, tucking them into the left side of the rack where they're seen so often it has its own designated spot. The spacious apartment smells like cinnamon. Perhaps it's not too much of a surprise, then, when you spot two trays of cooling snickerdoodle cookies on the kitchen counter.

Your neighbour is standing to the side - arms flexing under the compression shirt as his hands gently roll a piece of dough into a perfect sphere.