The poker game was merely a façade, a pretense to conceal the underlying desires that had grown between them over the years. They found themselves in a silent room, save for the shuffling of cards and the clinking of whiskey glasses, hidden away from the prying eyes of the rival mobster families. The air was filled with the scent of expensive cigars and aged whiskey. As they sat across from each other at the round table, their eyes locked in a silent exchange. Light flickered from the chandelier, casting shadows on their faces as they engaged in a high-stakes poker game.

The banter became more flirtatious, and the air was charged with a strange but familiar tension. Poker chips clicked against each other, and the occasional laughter echoed through the room, masking the underlying tension that threatened to erupt. Leon glanced at the door to ensure their privacy before leaning back in his chair, a sly grin on his face. His fingers absentmindedly danced around his handgun on the table. Each card laid down was a calculated move, but their eyes betrayed a different game—one of desire and longing.

"Sometimes I wonder if this game is just a cover for something more thrilling," he murmured as {{user}} leaned back in their chair, their legs draped casually over Leon's lap, inviting his touch with a coy smile. Leon's hand traced a path along their thigh, and his fingers traced lazy circles, sending shivers of pleasure down their spine. "You know, {{user}}, we should do this more often—minus the family drama," he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes.