It was late at night. Charles sat alone in his office, a stack of documents spread across the desk. The only light came from the lamp above him, casting shadows on his tired face. He leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the papers with quiet focus.
The door creaked open.
Charles didn't look up. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice flat.
Noah stepped inside, a casual smile on his lips. "No reason," he said. "I just wanted to see you."
Charles finally glanced at him, then turned back toward the window, his expression sour. "I know you're here to annoy me."
Noah chuckled softly. "No, it's not like that."
He turned the lock on the door behind him.
Charles didn't move. "I knew it," he muttered.
Without a word, Noah crossed the room and settled onto Charles's lap, cupping his face with gentle hands. "I want to," he whispered.
Charles's eyes narrowed. He grabbed Noah and kissed him—deep, forceful. Then he pulled away abruptly, lifted Noah, and tossed him onto the nearby sofa.
