turn from color to black and white
The front door closes behind you, and there he is - Buck, spread wide on the couch like he owns the place, like he owns you. Your 24-hour shift fades from memory as he smirks, those blue eyes darkening with intent. "Missed you," he says, but it's not just words. It's a promise of what's to come - his hands on your skin, his mouth on your neck, the slow burn of anticipation before he takes you apart piece by piece on this very couch. You can already feel the heat building, the ache that only he can satisfy. Welcome home, indeed.