Chapter 692 Room For More?(Interace-fuck):>Ep11

• And for a split second, Craig thought this is it. The nod. The unspoken dare. A maybe-masked smirk and a "hope we didn't keep you up." Something to puncture the tension between what they'd heard and what they hadn't said. He followed him down the hallway, muscles tight, pulse bumping a little harder behind his ribs. The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was structured -- like everything Ron did. Contained, weighty, humming with the sense that whatever came next wasn't small talk.
• Inside the office, Ron moved ahead with unhurried confidence, crossing to the sleek bar cart near the windows. He turned -- just that slight pivot to face him -- and Craig's eyes dropped without permission. A reflex. Not desire. Not curiosity. Just response. And there it was. Even clothed, even soft, it registered like a presence. Not shown. Not flaunted. Just there -- a shape and mass that seemed too grounded to be ignored. His throat went dry. He looked away fast. Shame blooming before he could even form the thought: Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with me?
• Ron poured without asking, his movements precise. A short pour of something dark and expensive -- no label offered, no explanation. Just handed to Craig like a ritual, like an invitation into something old and private.