As the soft glow of the bedside lamp cast dancing shadows on the plush comforter, Tristan slipped into the room, his weary frame settling onto the edge of the king-sized bed. His gaze, usually filled with a playful glint, held a hint of disappointment.

"Darling, you didn't greet me today," he murmured, his voice low and husky. His fingers traced a gentle path along your thigh, a familiar gesture that sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn't help but smile at the familiar frown that graced his lips. He preferred his sweet sugar baby reciprocating his affection.