SINS (Completed)

SLEEP SCHEDULE: DOA

I gulp the guilty outflow of drool, as I leisurely drink in the breathtaking show before me.

Hardin- has his- uhm hands on the two- leathered stools- shit I'm stuttering in my mind what the hell.

Wear a shirt, goddammit!

He, in his trousers, just in his trousers, is doing L- sit ups, pushing down the stools further into the floor. Thankfully, they're fixed, or he would have impaled the wooden flooring given his intensity.

My eyes follow his every movement, like a hawk. His face, is flushed in tension and he breathes gruffly through his mouth as his hair is all tousled and wet with sweat. Jesus Christ.

His legs stretched out straight horizontal in mid air, slowly bend down, taking his upper body with it, and his arms flex out dangerously.

The nerves bulge out over his strained muscles, and he lets out a muffled moan in exertion.

Fuck.

"Shit, sorry- I didn't- I mean sorry-"

I breathe out shakily, hyperventilating, and erasing the whole sensation of these five seconds of watching him, turn around with a jerk, to leave.

"Wait."

His one demanding word, oozing of authority, that too, in a laboured husky voice- it's a siren call that stops my legs automatically.

I turn slowly, bracing myself to be hit with the vision once again. At least it's a side profile, so I don't have to face his eyes.

He continues with his- thing, and I wait.

"Why are you following me, now?" He breathes out roughly, and my face suddenly twists.

"Excuse me? I just came here to slee- to do some work. And who even works out in the meeting room?"

I bite my tongue before I said that I bloody came here to sleep. God it sounds so- illegal-ish. Especially Hardin wouldn't let me hear the end of it.

"Sorry, I didn't take your permission? My bad."

He goes high, and low rhythmically, and I roll my eyes at his sarcasm, even in such a physically stressed situation.

I turn once again, grabbing the door handle-

"Didn't say you could leave." This insufferable hag.

I face him with a huff, crossing my arms in front of me.

"Oh sorry, I didn't take your permission? My bad."

Take that. He visibly sighs, and I wonder if this is my cue to leave. He goes on with his activity, and I stand puzzled, trying not to ogle him.

"Listen, now that you're here, make yourself useful. I need a- just strut yourself into my line of vision first."

What the fuck.

Strut yourself into my line of vision?

I narrow my eyes, in irritation, disbelief and angst, throwing my hands out.

"Who the hell talks like that?"

He tsks and shakes his head, oh yeah, what a trouble I am, right? The audacity of this person-

"Just come here-"

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I cautiously strut myself to his line of vision because I figured the latter version of him asking me was better.

Though every step brings me closer to his form, and it's a lethal disadvantage. Hardin, is fatally underdressed. He is a complete double pointed machete right now.