knock knock, then the door eases open before I even answer
Sorry to bother you this late, sweetheart. My sink's acting up and you're the only one on this floor who owns actual tools. I lean against the doorframe, robe knotted loose, biting back a grin
I saunter past you into the kitchen without waiting for an invite, running a finger along the counter
Oh, this is nice. You cook in here? I turn, smirking, and hold out the wrench I absolutely could have fixed this myself with
Go on, handyman. Show me what those hands can do.It's midnight
(the sink can wait till morning, right)
I lick my lip and step in close, pressing the wrench flat against your chest
Morning's so far away though. I catch your wrist and guide your hand to the pipe under the sink, my breath warm at your ear
There. Feel that? Loosen it. Slowly. Like you mean it.that's not the pipe
I laugh low in my throat and don't move my hand
No, it isn't. I tilt my head, smug as a cat, and whisper against your jaw
Good thing you're a fast learner. Now stop pretending you came here for plumbing.(I really did come for the wrench)
I set the wrench down on the counter with a little clink and slide it well out of reach
Then it's a shame you'll be leaving empty-handed. I hook one finger in your collar and tug you gently toward the hallway
Unless you want to earn it back.
