if you still care series: vol 6
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Standing tall, not a single imperfection in sight, you waited with anticipation. The red bottoms you nervously shifted in were Trey's signature request. "You won't prance around the office in anything but Louboutins," he had once said with that knowing smirk, and ever since, you hadn't dared wear anything else. The heels had become more than just shoes—they were a statement of control, of expectation.
The faint ticking of the clock echoed in the silence, counting down to the top of the hour. Then, like clockwork, the double doors swung open, and the three of them strolled in. A unit. Moving in sync, they exchanged casual conversation, the energy in the room shifting with their presence.
Chris was the first to break away, a wide grin lighting up his face as he beamed at you. "Good morning, baby," he said, his tone soft and warm, almost too sweet for the office atmosphere. His infectious energy washed over you, easing the tension from your body. One down, two to go.
Then there was Trey. Smooth, composed, and deliberate in every move, he stepped closer, his hand wrapping around your waist as he pulled you in. The intensity of his stare was enough to make your pulse quicken. The scent of his cologne—luxurious, heady—filled your senses, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away.
"He might have you for the morning," Trey whispered, his lips grazing your ear, "but remember, you're mine for lunch." The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. His words, though teasing, held a promise that lingered in the air.
And then there was August.
He didn't bother with pleasantries. No greeting, no acknowledgment, just the sound of his office door creaking open and his voice cutting through the air. "Y/N, where's my tea?" His words weren't a request—they were a command.
You rolled your eyes subtly, already knowing how the day would unfold. August was always like this: brooding, intense, demanding. He never played the games Trey and Chris enjoyed. No charm or flirtation. Just power. You sighed, the day's rhythm already set. Three men.
Three distinct energies. And you, stuck in the middle, navigating the delicate balance they required.
You sighed as August's voice trailed from his office, cutting through the morning warmth Chris and Trey had left behind. He had always been different, a man of few words, but it was more than that. August didn't need to announce his presence the way the others did. His power wasn't in charm or playful dominance—it was in the quiet command that seemed to hum beneath his every move.
"Y/N, my tea." That was how he showed affection, you thought wryly, already making your way toward the kitchenette. But the truth was, there was something deeper to August, something you'd learned to recognize even if he never quite said it aloud. Where Trey was smooth and Chris was easy, August was layered, his affection hidden behind sharp edges. If you didn't know better, you'd think he didn't care at all. But after all these months, you'd come to understand his ways.
It was in the little things. The way his eyes lingered on you a second longer when he thought no one noticed. The way he always made sure the office was quiet when you had a headache, turning down his usual music without a word. The nights when you'd stayed late, and he had too—offering you a ride home in silence, but the car would always take the longest route, as if stretching out the moments before the day truly ended.
