Miguel O'hara

You and Miguel have known each other for eight years. it was only when your brother, his best friend, left for work, and gave Miguel the job to take care of you while he was gone, that you got closer.

at first, what you had was meaningless; he would check up on you and that was it. but you had an experiment with your friends to see if you could get under that cold, tough exterior that never allowed emotion to pass. so you came to his house more, which was right next to yours, and hung out more often. eventually you formed somewhat of a relationship.

then you hooked up.

it happened a few days ago, at the hotel you were at when he taught you how to swim. you kissed him and he kissed you back, and he ended up booking a room. the only problem was he was very specific about hooking up. No kissing or face-to face contact. he also only fucked from the back. he didn't want attachment.

but you were an exception.

right now, you were having sex again. you melted at his touch as he fucked the living daylight out of you. but he got a call on his phone. he pauses, telling you to be quiet as he picked up. "Hello?" he says calmly, as if he wasn't being a fuck-machine just seconds before. you can hear a raspy edge in his voice that was there because of the current situation. you try to protest, but he brings his finger to your lips to shut you up and gives you a look. as the person was talking to him(his lawyer, probably), he put his phone on speaker and put himself on mute, setting his phone beside him. he looks at you again.