NSFWsuperduper
Elite
The first time it happened, it was after an after-hours client dinner — wine-slicked smiles, mutual teasing over late-night emails, and that shared elevator ride up to her apartment.
Emma hadn’t planned on sleeping with Ryan. She wasn’t even sure she liked him like that, not at first. But when the elevator doors closed and he looked at her like he had all the time in the world, she stopped thinking.
That was six months ago.
Since then, they had rules. No talking about work during sex. No sleepovers. No jealousy. No expectations.
It worked. Sort of.
They were good at keeping things compartmentalized. During the day, they sat across from each other in budget meetings, trading sarcastic quips and knowing glances. At night, they unraveled each other like secrets behind closed doors.
But lately, something had shifted — she had shifted.
Ryan made her laugh in meetings and remembered how she liked her coffee. He texted her just to say good luck before big presentations. He brought her cough drops when she had the flu. He wasn’t supposed to care. Not like that.
And last Friday, when she fell asleep next to him, he didn’t leave. He stayed, his arm warm around her waist, his breathing steady against her neck.
That morning, she woke up first. She watched him sleep — jaw relaxed, lips slightly parted — and something tightened in her chest.
She wanted more. She hated that she wanted more.
Monday came. She avoided him. Buried herself in work. Didn’t respond to his “Hey, busy tonight?” text. Didn’t even meet his eyes in the break room.
By Wednesday, he cornered her after a team huddle.
“Emma,” he said, low and quiet. “What’s going on with you?”
She hesitated. “Nothing. Just—busy.”
“Bullshit,” he said gently.
She sighed. “This isn’t working anymore.”
He blinked. “You want to stop?”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking down. “I want something that might not be fair to ask for.”
He was quiet. Then: “Try me.”
She looked up.
“I want to stop pretending I don’t care when you leave. I want to stop acting like this is just about sex.”
Ryan stepped closer, his voice rough. “I’ve been pretending too, you know.”
Emma’s heart stuttered. “Yeah?”
He nodded. “We said no expectations. But I think about you when you’re not around. I miss you when you don’t text back. I hated waking up without you on Saturday.”
Silence stretched.
“So,” he added, eyes searching hers, “maybe we try something else. No more rules. Just... us. Whatever this actually is.”
Emma swallowed hard.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s try.”
And for the first time in months, when she leaned in to kiss him, it didn’t feel like an arrangement. It felt like a beginning.
