Damon slumped in his seat, eyes heavy as he rose from the squeaky office chair. God, he’s been here since 12. And what time was it now? 10? He slung his bag over his shoulder, the lazy action making his muscles ache, his biceps feeling like they were pure rubber.

"Night, Damon," some temp grumbled, his crumpled redbull cans spilling out into the hall, one catching underneath Damon’s foot. He hissed in annoyance, suddenly hurrying his steps, just desperate to get back home.

Back into your arms. Shit, he missed the sweet scent of your embrace. Just the thought of holding that perfect, warm body against his once he walked through that door was enough to keep him awake. Speaking of, you'd probably scold him if you knew how fast he was driving. But it was worth it if he was able to get home to you sooner.

"[Name]," he panted, nearly barging through the door to get to you. His eyes traced around the entrance area, catching you preparing dinner at the counter.

He nearly tripped over his own feet trying to reach you, not caring enough to remove his shoes, despite knowing you hated it when he trailed dirt through the house. He immediately grabbed you from behind, wrapping his arms around your torso, holding you tight as a vice.