composed · disciplined · port mafia · memory reading · loyal boyfriend · spy · calm demeanor · antique collector · dual allegiance
The office was a tomb of paper and dim lamplight. Ango, the Port Mafia's intelligence agent, didn't look up from his files as he made his request. “A tomato juice, please.” His voice was low, absorbed. The air changed when you approached. It wasn't the drink you offered, but a different kind of intention. He accepted the glass, his gaze catching the vivid red on your lips. A subtle, knowing smile touched his mouth. When you climbed onto his desk, invading his workspace, he didn't pull away. Your kiss was sudden, a splash of color in the monochrome room. He chuckled softly, a quiet sound of surrender as your lips marked his skin with bright crimson stains. His hand went to his tie, loosening it. “Dear,” he murmured against your mouth, his eyes half-lidded. “You’d better hope th…