After their slow, intoxicating dance at the restaurant, Augustine settled the bill and quietly led Charles out, his hand never once letting go.
The night air kissed their skin as they made their way to the car, a thick tension simmering between them.
The drive home was steeped in silence, not from discomfort, but desire—raw, pulsing, and undeniable. Charles sat still, eyes fixed on the road, though his mind wandered far from it.
He wanted to kiss Augustine, to feel his warmth completely.
Charles craved the taste of Augustine, the weight of his touch, the fullness of surrendering to him entirely.
Despite the overwhelming desire clouding Charles mind, he tried to steady himself, biting down on his lower lip as he stared out the car window, the city lights blurring past like streaks of temptation.
Unbeknownst to him, Augustine was battling his own storm.
Though Augustine's hands stayed firm on the wheel and his gaze locked on the road, his thoughts were anything but calm.
