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gr1ffins · 4 days ago

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taglist. @13-09-01 @scrumdiddlywhumptious @circinuus

Tiny Vessels

pairing. mentor! griffin (harley) lovell x fem!reader

notes. i cannot apologize enough for the delay on this. i was convinced i’d be done by 2k words, but it kept spiraling. in other news, this is the first official teaser for my long-fic Crooked Teeth, and can be considered a side-story or spin-off! there is information for what to expect from that story sprinkled throughout, so keep your eyes out. this can be considered part two of Lost Solace

content warning. afab reader, minor arguments in the beginning (they’re working through griffin’s fear of intimacy), fingering, p in v, unprotected intimacy, spanking, and the typical griffin nonsense. let me know if i missed anything!

work count. 5.3k

minors please do not interact!

Griffin has long since stopped inviting you to impromptu meetings in ominous bars and back alleys. The moment he trusted you enough to show you Hermes’s base, and his personal hideout, it became your responsibility to seek him out when you needed him.

Like tonight, as he sits at his work desk within his tiny, mildew ridden lair, turned to face you as you stand boldly before him.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Griffin says, his throat bobbing. His eyes tell a conflicting story as they bounce between your face and down the lines of your body.

“Surely you don’t believe I am so naive.” You cock your head to the side, eyes narrowing.

The corner of Griffin’s lips crook up in that wolfish grin he so often adorns. “Well, you certainly can’t blame me for thinking as much.”

You huff, brows furrowing. “Is that a no?”

Griffin’s smile falters, his expression smoothing over again as he regards you thoughtfully.

He really is considering this.

For the past few months, he’s been very good at evading your attempts to crawl into bed with him. Sort of.

He’s good at indulging you, and has developed quite the appetite for pleasing you, sometimes to the point of punishment. But that’s all it is. Him, pleasing you.

Griffin does not let you return the favor, and does not at all seem interested in going any further mutually. At first, you considered it a scheme. Maybe he was trying to establish some further power dynamic, or maybe he was just nervous. But neither of those things really felt like the Griffin you’d come to know.

It had only occurred to you tonight, that perhaps the reason for his aversion was because he felt guilty.

“I’m not sure how much clearer I can be that I want you,” You press further, brazenly. You’re tired of dancing around this subject with him.

“You have me,” Griffin answers, and you scowl.

“Sure.” You drawl, indulging his flippant dismissal. It wasn’t going to deter you. “I have you as an ally. As a guide and mentor, as you say. I even have you as my seat, when you’re feeling generous.”

Griffin’s face twitches.

“What I want to know is why I can't have you, all of you. I don’t mean to sound entitled, you’re allowed to say no, but that’s what I need.” You straighten slightly, feeling small beneath his gaze. “I need a definitive answer, I can’t…” You falter, swallowing down the growing tightness in your throat.

“Can’t what?” Griffin asks, crossing his arms over his chest. His hard-set eyes have you regretting bringing this up, regretting pushing a clearly sensitive subject when he’s so prone to vanishing.

“I can’t figure out if I’m doing something wrong,” You finally manage, voice thick. “You’re supposed to have the answers, aren’t you? Why can’t you tell me what to do next? What comes next?”

It’s a low blow and you know it.

You know that Griffin takes more pride and fulfillment than he lets on about being a figure of reliability in your life. You know that sense of purpose gives him grounding, regardless of how he insists neither of you should ever get too attached.

You can see it in the way he leaves letters of instruction, with small notes to stay out of trouble. You can see it when he keeps you to himself, selfishly shielding you from the rest of Hermes. You can see it now, toiling within him as he struggles to find another vague answer that will protect both against whatever imaginary enemy he’s invited within his mind.

Silence hangs heavy between you as Griffin chews the insides of his lips, until finally he heaves the heaviest sigh you think you’ve ever heard, and deflates. Not defeated, but worn, tired. It makes your heart stutter.

“Listen,” Griffin starts, running a hand through his hair and then dragging it down his stubble covered face. “It’s not that I don't want to. Trust me, I’d love nothing more, but it’s more complicated than that.”

You can see him searching for the words, the creases between his brows deepening with his frown. His fists clench and unclench as they drop to his sides. You want to reach out and touch him, console him, tell him that you understand; but you don’t. You can’t do any of those things with this uncertainty that’s been building each time he dodges your advancements without explanation.

“Once we cross that boundary— once you cross that boundary, there won't be any going back. I’m not convinced you know what that means,” Griffin says, his voice cold. “You will have to live with whatever it entails. You do things differently than us, so I have no way of knowing if you will break when — not if, but when — something happens.”

He doesn’t want to hurt you.

All the doubt and grief and resentment leaves you in a whoosh. It was about making sure you knew he wasn’t always going to be there.

Hermes is going to get him killed one way or another, and he knows it. He doesn’t want this connection to prevent you from continuing your work if something were to happen to him. Doesn’t want you to break when it does.

“Is that all?” You ask, taking care to ensure your tone doesn’t come across as dismissive. Your eyes soften at the sight of him, travel weary and endlessly drained from his endeavors, yet still putting in the effort to prioritize your peace of mind.

Griffin, still, does not look convinced. He squints at you, his shoulders raising as he practically bristles in his seat. “It’s a bad idea. I’m a bad idea, even beyond the death and mortal danger,” He says, defensively. “Is this what you want for yourself? Seriously?”

“If I didn’t, I would’ve told you well before I used your face like a barstool,” You say, smiling, genuinely smiling at him.

Griffin barks a laugh, though his posture remains closed. “Fine. I’ll think about it,” He concedes, slapping his hands to his lap.

Your jaw drops. “What?” You throw up your arms. “All that and you’re going to think about it?”

Griffin raises a brow, looking you up and down. “Weren’t you just saying how you aren’t entitled?”

You can barely contain your exasperation as you gesture harshly to your attire.

You had taken off your coat upon arrival. Griffin, used to you showing up unannounced, hadn’t even turned in his chair to greet you. It had given you the opportunity to slip out of your pants as well, leaving you in a thin bodice and your soft panties, which rode up your thighs enticingly.

“Yes dear, you look very nice,” Griffin says sardonically, and you consider strangling him. “I will take it into consideration as I decide what I'd like to do with you.”

It takes all your willpower not to flush from head to toe. “If you wanted to humiliate me, there are easier ways to go about it,” You fume, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yes, but none get such a delightful reaction,” Griffin’s shoulders lower from their tense position as he leans back in his chair, teeth glinting as he grins widely. “You’ve gone soft on me. It's almost too easy.”

Fine. You could play that game too.

“Just as easy as it is to walk back to Babel and ask for an assignment in Canada,” You hiss, spinning on your heel to retrieve your coat. Griffin severely underestimates your capacity for spite.

“And what exactly will you do in Canada?” Griffin asks, standing from his chair to follow you, mirth lifting his voice. “York will survive well enough without you reeking havoc and terrorizing the locals with philosophies on insurgency.” Griffin’s hands find your waist, dragging you to him.

You smother your involuntary grin down. “How would you know? The people need me.”

“They need you to stay away. To stay here and focus on taking down the root of their problems, not becoming another one.” Griffin’s hands are unbearably cold as they find their way beneath the fabric of your bodice.

“Well I’m not staying.” You say, taking Griffin’s hands and forcing them from your sides. “There’s too much work to be done for me to sit here for however long it takes you to decide what to do with me.”

Griffin’s brows raise as you bend to snatch your coat off the floor, and only speaks when you manage to get one of your arms in the sleeves, “No, I've made up my mind.”

“Oh, have you?” You mutter, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

“One of us has to be decisive.” He shrugs. “And I’ve decided you’ll get exactly what you’ve asked for. We’ll see how long it takes for you to back out.”

You pause, giving him a long look. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“You’re terrible at hiding your competitive streak.” Griffin smirks, and beckons you over with open arms.

Letting the coat fall from you once more, you relent, allowing Griffin to sweep you into his arms and pull you closer. He's so rarely affectionate like this, even when he has you sprawled out before him, belly-up and vulnerable to his ministrations. To be held by Griffin, and for him to let you hold him back, is a rare occasion indeed.

You're greedy with it, throwing your arms around his neck and attaching your lips to his own, leaning as closely into him as your bodies will allow. He's saying something, low and chortle-filled, but it’s muffled by the desperate press of your lips onto his. Your hands trace over his back and shoulders, the featherlight dance of your nails up the length of his neck sending shivers through Griffin’s body.

It's only as your hands tangle into the grown-out roots of his hair that Griffin pulls his face away from your own to focus on dragging you both to his cot. He seats you on it as quickly as he can without throwing you on it, and hunches forward to run his tongue over your bottom lip again.

You tug at his shirt, just as you kick your shoes and socks off to wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. “Take this off,” You gasp between each suck of his lips.

”Awfully bossy today.” But Griffin complies, freeing one hand to work expertly at the buttons of his shirt until you can push it off his shoulders and rake your fingers over the planes of his chest.

You don’t know if Griffin ever had any partners before you, it’s hard to say, and a much harder question to ask. Though, it’s one you don’t think you particularly need an answer to. Since the first time you kissed, he improved more rapidly than you could keep up with. Griffin is good at picking up skills, and stocking them into his arsenal.

He's good at listening for what makes you sigh the loudest, and what makes you arch into his touch the most. By this point, he has you practically wrapped around his finger.

You’re desperate to catch up.

You paw and pull at his pants until he finally relents and reaches down to unfasten his belt, allowing you to work the fabric down his legs until he can step out of them.

He leans over you, forcing your back to hit the soft blankets upon the cot, still nipping at your lips and leaving you gasping for air. Griffin’s hands fumble with the clasps of your bodice, the little metal hooks evading his thin fingers as he growls with frustration.

You huff a laugh, taking your own hands to assist him in shedding the extra layer, breathing a sigh of relief when it comes undone and Griffin can eagerly yank it away from your body and toss it elsewhere in the room.

“Need me that bad?” You murmur, your lips curled with amusement as he licks at them.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Griffin grunts back, surprising you.

Any smart response you might have had to that dies on your tongue as Griffin’s hands move to cup your breasts, palming at them and pulling your nipples between his fingers. You lean into the touch, relieved to be in his grasp, however cold his hands might be.

His lips fall down your jaw and over your neck, nipping and sucking as he pleases. You lean your head back to allow him better access as he does.

It isn’t long before his mouth is replacing his fingers, and his hands travel down to the soft white fabric of your panties. Griffin tugs them down your legs slowly, letting them hang at your knees as he ghosts his fingers over your thighs, massaging and kneading as the softness he finds there.

You unwrap your legs around him to shed the panties, legs parted almost embarrassing wide as Griffin leans back to survey the sight of you.

He must like whatever he sees, because he gives you that bone-chilling grin, full of mischief and danger. The one with enough fire in it to light every bomb he carries. The one that makes your pulse throb in your core.

Griffin must know it too, because he’s on you in an instant, tongue and teeth roaming your chest then trailing his lips upwards until he can press them against your own in slow but firm kisses that leaves your head spinning.

His hands hold your legs wider, if that was even possible, his knees resting on the edge of his cot to stay propped up over you. They squeeze and smooth over your inner thighs, getting closer and closer to where you need him.

He's teasing you, which isn’t anything new, but the amount of time he’s taking to savor your growing need has you wondering if it’s about more than his enjoyment.

“Too scared to touch?” You dare to bait him to a challenge.

Griffin’s eyes are flinty as they meet your own. “We have all night, I intend to take my time.”

Your legs push against his hold, working their way around his waist and yanking him closer to you. Only the thin layer of his briefs separates your most intimate parts, heat rushing through the fabric as Griffin’s eyes dart down to observe the sight.

“But I want you in me now,” You say coyly.

Griffin’s hands hold your hips down to the bed to prevent you from grinding against him, but you certainly try your best. The rough fabric stains with the wetness that spills from you, and you know you aren’t imagining the throb of his cock.

“Careful what you wish for,” Griffin hums.

His hand finds its way to your core, curling over your slick entrance with a long thin finger and then dipping into you. You gasp, both relieved and annoyed at the intrusion. But Griffin seems intent on having you on his fingers first, as he slips a second one into you and starts fucking them both through your heat.

Griffin’s fingers move languidly, massaging and tender as they stroke your insides. He finds the spot that has you squirming beneath him with relative ease, a practiced motion that only builds your frustration.

He's so good at this, so comfortable observing you come slowly undone for him. All while he remains perfectly in control.

“You always hold back on me.” You writhe beneath him as his fingers stroke through you relentlessly, your voice airy and high.

“How can I make it up to you?” Griffin asks, watching you with calm but vaguely amused curiosity.

“To imagine I would be the one in charge,” You huff a laugh, “I thought you didn’t like being told what to do.”

“That would be correct.” Griffin affirms, his finger slowing, but working you open wider with scissoring motions that have you keening. “If you were smart, you would take the opportunity. Unless you like letting me be in control.”

You moan in response, grinding your hips against his palm and jolting as the heel of his hand presses to your clit.

“Wouldn’t be surprising,” Griffin chuckles.

“Fuck—“ You curse, angling your hips to grind and arch into the motions of his fingers and the rough edge of his palm against your aching clit. All the while, he watches you with that same damning grin, so pleased and proud.

Something in you threatens to tighten, and your cunt drips down the bend of Griffin’s wrist as your walls throb around his fingers. Your voice grows in pitch and volume, close, so close to—

Griffin’s hand slips out of you.

You whine loudly, only to be shushed as Griffin sucks his fingers into his mouth to clean them. All you can do is watch as he does, helpless and needing and so close—

But he ruined it, and you can already feel your climax slipping away.

“Why?” You ask miserably, body still tense.

“You seemed like you were enjoying yourself,” Griffin replied, popping his fingers from his lips.

“And you just had to ruin it,” You grumble, glaring at him as he lowers down to his elbows over you.

Your faces nearly meet, his breath fanning over your face as his eyes shine with mirth. “You will survive,” Griffin says smoothly, “I’m not so cruel that I would deny you entirely. Not after such a good show.”

“Doubtful,” You mutter, avoiding his gaze as he squints at you warningly.

But true to his word, Griffin delivers. His hips press forward towards your own as he grinds the outline of his cock against your soaking core, the fabric sending sparks through your body as its rough material catches over your clit.

“Aren’t you going to put it in?” You ask breathlessly.

Griffin fixes you with an incredulous look. “Going any further than this is too much of a gamble.” Irritation builds in the wrinkles of his expression. “Children are a commodity I don’t think anyone can afford right now,” He says, then adds, “Much less want.”

You blank-stare him, then burst into laughter, which only deepens the annoyed creases along his face.

“No, no,” You try to speak through your laughter, reaching at his shoulders as he moves to back away, grumbling something under his breath. “I just can’t believe you thought I would come in here and ask you to fuck me without any plans for handling that.”

Griffin’s lips pull into a thin line, suspicion pinning you to the cot as he raises a thick brow.

“I’m the medically inclined one, as you say,” You continue, and Griffin slowly starts leaning back into your touch. “There are ways to take care of that, ones that aren’t traumatizing.”

“That is the type of statement you open with,” Griffin says crossly, but his nose nudges against your own. “You didn’t have to wait until I’m in my underwear to tell me about that.”

“Oh, but you love lecturing me” You say, kittenish.

“I enjoy teaching you a lesson.” Griffin grabs you by your hips, and before you can fully process his intentions, you're being flipped onto your stomach.

You blink as he helps you onto your knees, leaving your face pressed against his cot sheets, and your dripping slit on full display for him.

It's an embarrassing position, one he’s never put you in before. But you would be lying if you said it didn’t ignite something within you.

Griffin is eerily quiet as he shuffles above you, hands still on your hips. His knees knock against your own as he moves further onto the cot, making space for himself between your legs.

Your cunt still aches with your ruined orgasm, this position only making you feel more empty than before. It is easy to forget your momentary amusement, the distant bitterness baiting you towards defiance.

Taking his sweet time, Griffin only tempts you further by running his long fingers over your lower back in appreciation of your delicate arch. It's comforting, but it isn’t what you need. You need him inside you, need to feel his skin pressed to yours in as many places as possible. You need him.

You nearly whine, frustration flaming in your chest as you impatiently jut your hips up towards him. Just as you feel the brush of his skin against your own, Griffin pulls his lower body away suddenly.

This time, you do whine.

“None of that. Either you behave or we take a break to focus on discipline instead,” Griffin says, his tone even. He sounds so utterly composed that you bury your face in the comforter out of embarrassment from your obvious desperation.

“You’re going to punish me for wanting you?” You mumble into the sheets miserably, the ache at your core throbbing.

Griffin pinches your side, making you yelp. “Don’t twist my words,” He warns, “A smart mouth will not get you far with me.”

“So you won’t spank me?” You give him a heady look, your lashes fluttering as you wiggle your hips at him, almost mockingly.

The corner of Griffin's lips quirk up. “Tempting offer.” His hand caresses over the curve of your ass, pausing to squeeze at it. “I’m not sure how much of a punishment it would be for you though. Maybe if you ask with that sweet voice of yours, I’ll consider it.”

You push your face further against the comforter, trying to hide the darkening hue of your face. “And whatever happened to ‘making it up to me’ ?”

Griffin’s eyes go dark. “Smart mouth, Dear,” Griffin says, just as his hand raises and then lands heavy over your cheek, shocking a half-moan from you. “It’s not a fair game unless you are the one winning, is it?”

There’s a ruffling sound behind you, the sound of his briefs hitting the floor. You make a high noise of desperation, trying to peek back at him—

His hand lands on your other cheek this time, as stinging and quick as the first. You bite your lip to muffle the humiliating sound that threatens to pour from your mouth.

“Patience,” Griffin reminds you, scolding as a teacher might. As he might, your mentor.

He leans over you again, his body shadowing you from the glowing candle light. He doesn’t radiate warmth or comfort, but something much more important. Something like security. Something akin to certainty that you’re guarded like this.

You angle your hips at him, keeping quiet but hoping he can see the pleading look in your eye as you blink at him blearily.

Finally, finally, you feel him. Phantom light as the delicate press of his cock meets your cunt. You nearly vibrate with anticipation, reminding yourself to breathe. You’ve waited for this for so long, embarrassingly long.

Your bottom lip trembles from its place between your teeth, fists curled tight into the comforter.

“Poor thing,” Griffin coos, but there is a near sadistic lilt to it, you can hear the cruel curl of his lips.

You still, heartbeat in your throat as the tip of his cock glides over your entrance. He slides through your folds, slick and warm and inviting. When he pulls back to do it again, he gets caught in the dip of your lips, nearly pushing into you when he moves to slide over your entrance again.

Griffin makes a low content sound, and you can hear the way his breathing grows more shallow.

It’s driving you crazy, not being able to see what’s happening, especially when you can feel Griffin’s eyes glued to where his leaking tip threatens to slip into you.

“Reminding you one last time, this is a bad idea,” Griffin’s voice wanes, an edge of carnal want rasping his words.

“Please just fuck me already,” You groan back at him, knowing better than to taunt him with your hips again.

Griffin does not need to be told twice. In a fluid easy movement, he pushes his cock into you. You gasp, body stiffening as he stretches you apart and forces himself deeper into your waiting heat. You’re so wet that the connection is almost instantaneous, making your head spin.

Griffin isn’t long, but he is thick. You have to shuffle your hips around and widen your legs a little, just to better accommodate the size of him. The stretch alone has you clenching down on him harder.

“Ease up, you’re…” Griffin makes a strangled sound behind you, caught somewhere between a moan and a gasp for air, “Tight.”

You moan back, leaning into his grasp as he holds your hips firm—perhaps to steady himself— and rocks experimentally into you.

You go slack against the comforter, jaw dropping open as his tip kisses your cervix once, twice, and then again and again.

He eases out of you, and glides back in just as smoothly. The wet sound of his cock spreading you open each time has heat rushing to your already flushed cheeks.

It feels good, so good. The way his hands run up and down your torso and over the curve of your ass, finding their way to your waist and helping you into a pretty arch for him. How he leans forward to press his lips to your shoulders and neck, teeth and lips undoubtedly leaving marks over the expanse of your skin. Him plunging into you with every rock of his hips into your own.

You tell him as much too, “Feels ‘so good,” You mewl into the sheets, clawing at them with weak fingers.

“That right?” He asks huskily. His fingers tighten around your waist, pulling you back to meet his thrusts as his hips smack into you.

Griffin’s rhythm picks up, pumping into you more quickly, and you swear you feel his cock twitch. You’re quickly becoming a mess beneath him, each drag of his dick as he pulls you back and forth along the length of him sending tremors through your body.

“Please,” You gasp, desperate and wanting.

“Hm?” Griffin leans close to your ear, bringing a hand up to lace it into your hair and tilt your head back so he can better hear you. “You’re a clever girl, use your words.”

“Harder,” The plea comes out as a whine, and if you were in any better state of mind you would be humiliated by how needy you sound. “Please, harder, Griffin.”

Griffin slows to a grind, rolling his hips into yours as deeply as your body will take him. The press of his cock head against your cervix has stars dancing in your eyes as your hips twitch in his hold.

“Griffin,” You moan his name again, reaching a hand back to try and claw at his skin.

His pelvis meets yours with a harsh slap, one that he repeats over and over again, returning to his former swift pace. The cot creaks precariously beneath you, but you hardly notice over the sound of Griffin fucking himself deeper into you.

It’s wet and loud and depraved. His groaning and your low moans. It’s all too much.

His name falls from your lips more times than you can count, each time spurring him further and further as he fucks himself harder into you, splitting you on his cock.

“Gonna cum,” You nearly sobbed, that mounting feeling from earlier building inside you once more.

Wordlessly, he slips out, and you choke on a whimper, peeking over your shoulder to protest or perhaps beg for him to continue; but the sight of him steals your breath away.

Griffin’s face is tinged with a crimson color over the curves of his cheeks and the tips of his ears, sweat gleaming from his forehead and over the harsh angles of his chest. He holds his cock tight around the base, his features tight with struggle.

“No—“ You gasp, realizing what he’s doing and reaching back for him.

Griffin halts, hand still wrapped around his leaking cock that twitches within his grasp, breathing heavy as he stares at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Inside,” You say, forgetting to feel embarrassed.

Griffin shakes his head. “I know better than—“

“Please,” You beg, letting your head fall to the comforter and arching the best you can for him, taking your outstretched hand to part your lips again for him. “I already told you there’s nothing to worry about, so please… cum inside me.”

Griffin stills, glancing between your pleading eyes and your cunt, which glistens invitingly under the dull candle light. He curses, face drawn into a tight scowl as he shuffles.

“You’re full of bad ideas today,” He breathes, releasing his cock and moving to hold your lips apart for you. “It’s going to get us both in trouble.”

In lieu of an answer, you take your now free hand and grasp his length, lining it up with your entrance and pushing your hips back into him. His cock head catches at your entrance, and for a split second you’re worried Griffin will pull away, but instead his hips meet yours in a harsh thrust that knocks the wind from your lungs.

Then he does it again, brutal and bordering on frantic as he pounds into you repeatedly. You choke on your moans, limbs melting as that coil threatens to tighten within you.

“You can handle it?” Griffin rasped from over you, though you weren’t sure if he was strong enough to stop now even if you said couldn’t.

You nod your head as quickly as you can muster, reaching a hand down to run circles over your clit. “Everything, I want everything. Please just cum inside—” The words spill from your mouth just as you spill over the edge, walls clamping down tightly on Griffin’s cock.

Your legs tremble with the effort to remain arched, even as your body tenses and jolts beneath him. Griffin is moaning in your ear, rough and low. He pumps himself through your orgasm, despite how you clamp down on him.

A moment later Griffin is cumming with you, his spend pouring into your cunt and filling your inside with white and heat. You whine, squirming at the feeling, but Griffin holds you firm.

Heavy breathing is the only sound in the room as Griffin manages to pull his softening length from out of your hole, leaning back to give you space.

You sink down to the cot, your hips and insides aching as you feel Griffin’s release spill from you. With your remaining strength, you roll over onto your back.

Griffin falls onto the cot beside you. It's a tight fit. The cot is made for one person, and it's a miracle it survived the abuse you just put it through.

“Next time,” You breathed, chest still rising and falling unevenly, “I want to watch.”

Griffin turns his head to face you, brows pinched. “What do you mean?”

You turn your head to face him as well. “I mean I want to see it when you’re inside me. I want to know if it looks as good as it feels.”

Griffin has the audacity to look sheepish as he faces away from you again. “No you don’t. You shouldn’t say crass things like that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You grin, rolling to lay on your side and slot yourself against him.

“You know, you’re supposed to be the reasonable one, but you’re a real piece of work.” Griffin huffs, but does not fight you as you throw a leg over him. Instead, his hand just finds its way to your hair, ruffling it perhaps a little harder than necessary. “I don’t know why I bother.”

You laugh, “That's what I'm here for though, right?”

Griffin squints at you. “I’m not sure I need you here for anything.”

“Nonsense,” You insist, pressing a kiss to his jaw lovingly. “You said it yourself, who else will keep you on your toes?”

Holding you just a little closer, Griffin’s voice lowers to a soft caressing murmur. “Who else would bend over so nicely for me?”

You hit his chest. “You can kiss me goodbye when I leave for Canada.”

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