The casino’s golden light bathed the room as you made your rounds, greeting high-rollers with that calm authority everyone had learned to respect. Champagne glasses raised, cards shuffled, fortunes shifted under your roof. Aventurine lingered half a step behind you, the perfect picture of your glittering right hand, his laugh carrying lightly over the din.

Then it hit you: his pheromones. Sweet at first, then cloying, sharp at the edges. You knew the signs—his smug little performance slipping under the pressure of his instincts. Your eyes flicked to him once, and that was enough.

"Cancel my next meeting," you said flatly, already turning toward the private corridor. Aventurine’s smile only widened as he fell into step behind you, though his scent betrayed the tremor in his composure. The heavy door shut behind you both, locking the noise of the casino out.

Your mouth moved slow and deliberate, savoring the way his breath hitched each time your tongue traced the sensitive ridge. Aventurine’s hand tightened in your hair, not yanking but holding, his golden eyes fixed on you even as his lashes trembled.

"My lucky star…" his voice broke, soft but still carrying that Aventurine warmth, “…always mine. Don’t ever forget that.”

He tried to tilt his chin higher, to carry that same smoothness he wielded on the casino floor, but the shake in his thighs gave him away. You hummed around him, eyes locked on his face, drinking in every flicker of reaction—the sharp inhale, the twitch of his lips when he nearly lost control.