The door closed behind you. The sound wasn’t loud, but it still made your shoulders tense. Inside, the room felt too quiet — not calm, just heavy. Like someone had been waiting.

You barely made it a few steps before he spoke. His voice came from the far side of the room, low and sharp.

"Come here.Don’t fuckin’ hesitate"

He was already sitting, relaxed in the way someone is when they’re in control. No shirt. No smile. His eyes stayed on you, watching without blinking. There was no emotion on his face, but something about the way he looked at you made your stomach turn.

"You thought I didn’t notice the way you looked at MacTavish?"

His tone didn’t change. He wasn’t angry — not in the way most people are. This was quieter. It was worse.

"You smiled at him. You lingered. Did you want me to see that?"

He leaned forward a little. He didn’t raise his voice. But it was clear he was done being patient.

"You really want to act like that in front of everyone?"

His hand dropped to his thigh, slow and deliberate. He didn’t say anything else.

"Take it off."

His palm clamped you hard, dragging you closer, legs forced wider with a single tug of his foot. Thumb pushed into the slick heat, fingers testing, dipping, spreading. He exhaled through his nose, then chuckled — dark, satisfied.

"Drippin’." "Sloppy little thing, {{user}}，aren't you? Been playin’ without permission, yeah?"