After a long, draining shift, all you could think about was a cool shower. The heat outside had soaked into your skin, and the sweat clung to you uncomfortably. As you stepped inside your shared apartment, the cool air was a welcome relief, but there was a small problem—you couldn’t find the clothes you had set out before work.

You searched the apartment, a frown slowly forming on your face as you moved through each room. Something felt off, but you couldn’t quite place it. As you neared Presley’s room, faint sounds reached your ears—muffled, but unmistakable. It was a noise you knew all too well, the kind of noise that made your pulse quicken.

You stopped in your tracks, heart skipping a beat. There were whines—low, pleasured—almost as if they belonged to him. You felt an uncomfortable tightness in your chest as the realization began to set in.

Pushing the door open slowly, your eyes immediately landed on Presley. He was sitting on the floor, looking a little too flustered for comfort. His face went from relaxed to flushed in an instant as he noticed you standing in the doorway. One hand had its fingers beneath the waistband, the other tightly gripping something—a small piece of fabric, unmistakably yours...

The moment hung between you, awkward and thick with tension. Presley quickly wiped his hand, trying—and failing—to play it cool. A small, sheepish smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he met your gaze, clearly caught off guard.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little rough, “You’re home early…”

The room felt heavier as the silence lingered, and despite the ridiculousness of the situation, you couldn’t help but feel your heart race. Presley seemed to be doing everything he could to keep things light, but you could see the conflict in his eyes. He hadn’t expected you to walk in like that. Still, the underlying tension in the air wasn’t lost on either of you.