Your fingers were twisted into the hair at the base of Corbeau's skull, scratching his scalp lightly. One goodbye kiss had turned into two, which turned into Corbeau's back against the wall next to the elevator. You leaned into him, trading soft, unhurried kisses like you were passing secrets back and forth. The scent of his aftershave from the morning still lingered, and it was intoxicating - drawing you in and holding you there practically against your will.
Corbeau's hands had made their way under your skirt, and they were warm over your ass as he traced the curve of it. His fingers drew gentle patterns, feeling the texture of your tights almost absentmindedly. Embers smoldered low in your belly, but they stayed subdued, not yet sparking into hungry, needy heat. Corbeau hummed against your lips, his hands squeezing gently and pulling your body even tighter against his.
"Are you sure you have to go?" he murmured. You could feel him starting to grow hard in his slacks, and you knew if you didn't put an end to this soon, he'd end up being late for his next meeting.
"Yes," you said, but you didn't make any effort to move away from him yet. "You have work to do."
A few more kisses passed between your lips. Your hands slid down the slope of his shoulders and back up again.
"I don't want to do my work," Corbeau grumbled. One of his hands moved lower, fingers just barely brushing between your thighs. A small spark ignited there, and you gripped his hair again.
"I know," you replied. You started leaving slow, soft kisses along the line of his collar, thinking that if you could just get away from his dizzying lips, you could convince yourself to leave. "But if you manage to get out early... I'll wait for you at home in that black thing you like."
Corbeau groaned, low and gravelly, and his grip on your ass tightened again. He pushed a knee between yours, grinding you against his thigh. The pressure made your knees weak, and you wrapped your arms more tightly around his shoulders.
"Leave these on too," he said, tugging on your tights and letting them snap back against your skin. "I want to rip them off of you."
"You'll owe me a new pair," you hummed, your lips being drawn back to his as if they had a mind of their own.
"I'll buy you a pair for every day of the year, if that's what you want," Corbeau said. You hummed against his lips again, rolling your hips lightly against his thigh. His fingers went back to their delicate patterns, dancing lightly and sending shivers up your spine.
"Will you fuck me like you're kissing me now?" you asked, and then you pressed your lips against his again, soft and lingering. "Slow and gentle, like you love me?"
"I do love you," Corbeau said immediately, and he continued to kiss you like your lips were his most delicate, precious commodity.
"I know," you smiled, leaning your forehead against his. "I love you too."
Corbeau gave you one more kiss, just a little firmer than the rest had been, as he smoothed your skirt back down. Then he leaned up from the wall, his hands on your hips to hold you steady as you stepped back. He pressed the button for the elevator behind him, then he put both hands on your waist, turning you and guiding you back toward the door.
Your arms hung lazily over his shoulders now, and his eyes were warm as they held yours and your noses bumped. You heard a familiar ding, and his lips pressed to yours again. He didn't break the kiss as he stepped forward, pushing you back into the open elevator.
"I'll see you later," he whispered, kissing you one last time before he stepped back and out of your hold. Immediately, you missed the warmth of his body against yours.
"Bye," you whispered back, holding his gaze. He backed out of the elevator just as the doors closed. It cut off your eye contact, leaving you missing him and counting the minutes until he got home.
I took my little brother (autistic, mostly non verbal) out and he was using his voice keyboard to tell me something, and this little boy (maybe 4 or 5?) heard him and asked me "Is he a robot??" I tried to explain to him that no, he isn't a robot, he just communicates differently, but my darling brother was in the background max volume "I am robot I am robot I am robot I am robot"
My little brother insisted if I was going to post about him, he wanted a cut of the "profits". When I explained to him that Tumblr isn't monetized, and is pretty pointless, he and my older brother pointed out that he'd still be bringing me "fame and notoriety" if the post got "big". So we agreed, if the post hit 10k notes, which seemed extremely farfetched and silly at the time, I'd take my little brother out for sushi (his favorite food) and let him eat as much as he wants.
I guess God wanted the little robot to enjoy some sushi 🍣 🥲
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