Saul Goodman (Jimmy McGill)

"This probably isn't ethical," you say, as he crowds you behind his desk for the nth time.

"Sweetheart, since when have I cared about ethics?"

You can't see him from where you're positioned, but if you could, you know that Saul would be smirking like he'd just won a million bucks. Despite his inherent big mouth, he shuts up for a moment as his hands skim down your torso, coming to rest at your hips. His breath is warm, and you can't suppress the shiver that runs down your spine when he leans down to plant an absentminded kiss on the back of your neck. It almost distracts you from the way that the edge of the desk digs into your abdomen.

"Point taken," you drawl, as you tilt your head to the side in order to give him better access.

He lets out a quiet, low mhmm as he presses another open-mouthed kiss to the same spot. Then another after that. His hands wander, cupping your ass for a brief moment, before his fingers start to sneak underneath your waistband—

"How much time have we got?" Saul asks, casually, like he's not working your slacks down your thighs at the same time.

He has got to be doing it on purpose, but you entertain him anyway. Like always. "Half an hour," you answer, pretending like you're not tense with anticipation already. "Better be quick."

"C'mon, where's your faith in me?" He teases, thumbs sliding into the sides of your underwear. "Quick is my middle name, you know."