Ep 19
Later That Night — Donovan’s Apartment
The lights in the apartment were dim, casting a soft glow across the room. Donovan and Damien were alone after the day’s chaos. The air was thick, but not just from the unspoken tension about Chase and Tristan. There was a quiet comfort in the room, too.
Donovan sat on the couch, a glass of whiskey in hand, while Damien leaned against the back of the couch, close but not touching. Their proximity spoke volumes — the space between them shrinking by the second.
Damien Du Verre
You know they’re both stubborn as hell, right?
Donovan chuckled quietly, his gaze flicking to Damien.
Donovan Lee
Yeah, that’s what makes this so… entertaining.
Damien raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. He placed a hand on Donovan’s leg, a gentle, teasing pressure.
Damien Du Verre
You think they’ll actually fix it this time?
Donovan’s fingers tightened around his glass, but he kept his cool. He knew how much of an emotional mess Tristan was right now, and how stubborn Chase could be, but he had his own plan.
Donovan Lee
Already set up another meeting. Tomorrow. I’m not letting them drag this out any longer.
Damien’s eyes narrowed, amusement flickering in his gaze.
Damien Du Verre
You’re making them talk again? After last time?
Donovan smirked, leaning forward.
Donovan Lee
Yep. This time, I’m making sure they don’t have an option.
Damien’s hand slid up Donovan’s leg, a slow, deliberate movement that made Donovan exhale a little too sharply. The shift in mood was palpable.
Damien Du Verre
You really enjoy playing the matchmaker, huh?
Donovan let out a low laugh and leaned into the touch, his eyes flickering with something darker now.
Donovan Lee
Someone has to. They’re both too damn proud to do it on their own.
Damien’s face softened for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing against Donovan’s neck, his voice quiet but filled with intent.
Damien Du Verre
And what about you? Who’s going to fix you when you need it
The question lingered between them as Damien’s hand moved to the waistband of Donovan’s pants. Donovan’s breath hitched, his fingers curling into the fabric of the couch as Damien’s lips traveled up to meet his. The tension from earlier dissolved into something far more heated, far more immediate.
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