Asher should be smug about it, about Elijah admitting that he got himself off thinking of Asher, especially under such circumstances. Sentimental wasn’t a good trait in either of their lines of work. Relationships were just a game where the one who got the most attached lost.

It wasn’t a thing to confess when driving into Asher’s body like that, that made Asher scramble to hold on to Elijah as their positions flipped, nails raking along Elijah’s back to leave welts behind. What could he say to the question, especially since his own answer would be so equally sentimental that he’d die before admitting it?

“Think about fucking me in the middle of the meeting room table next time,” Asher hissed out between gasps of breath, reaching between them to pump his own cock because this was not a morning meant to last long. “That’s one of my favorite thoughts.”