Fics like it's still love

You’d like to think if your boss had known better, he wouldn’t have let you walk up the steps and meet that quiet, handsome young man with dark eyes and gloved hands. He wouldn’t have let you take your polite seat beside him, a nice distance away until he offered you to come closer—he did really like that, the way you respected his space, the way you waited for his okay—and chat him up and win him over enough to call for you again. And again. And again. And again, again, again—until Sakusa was leading you away, with his gloved hand pressed to your lower back, whispering hot, smooth promises against the side of your ear, almost forcing you to your knees with just those words alone. Sweeping you up in his dark coat, into his fancy car, and laid out on the sheets of the finest hotels money could buy. It was fun. It was nice to have a good-looking customer. An attentive customer who didn’t treat you badly, who didn’t slather over you or treat you like a piece of meat. You were just doing your job. (But Sakusa was falling—)

Fics like it's still love

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