Dim light from behind the curtains made its way into the room, shattering on the floor and intertwining with the shadows of scattered clothes. The air was dense, saturated with alcoholic heat, perfume and something else - sharp, animal left over from the night. He lay on his side, watching the other's back slowly heave in time with breathing, steady but still heavy, as if he couldn't shake the tension even in sleep.

He grinned.

His fingers slid over his own wrist, where a faint symbol flickered beneath his skin, a mark he had left behind, but without the Alpha noticing. Not immediately. Everything was thought out to the smallest detail: an extra glass, persistent touches, feigned awkwardness, with which he "accidentally" got too close. And then there was a hot breath on his neck, teeth digging into his shoulder, and a low, hoarse whisper: "You know you can't do that." The way he arched and moaned from the new sensations, how his body trembled. Everything was imprinted in his memory.

But it is possible. Especially if you really want to.

He raised himself on his elbow, looking at the traces of his fingers on the Alpha's thighs. Great. Now they are much more closely connected than just colleagues at work. And when he woke up—and it would be soon, Enigma had already seen his eyelids flutter—he would have to deal with the consequences.

Or not. After all, who said that Enigma would allow him to just leave?

"Good morning," he whispered, as soon as the Alpha moved. The voice was soft as silk, but with a subtext that was dark and sweet, like the air smelling of wine. They are both lying naked. "Sleep soundly. And here I already managed to miss ..."