Short Stories: Sexual Tension in the Briefing Room [Sebastian Version]

The story was initially planned to be Sebastian's POV in Chapter 2, but I've decided to make a change. Instead, it'll be focused on the events that (may) occur between Chapters 2 and 3.

Warning: The story contains sexually suggestive content. If this theme makes you feel uncomfortable, I recommend avoiding reading this story.

"Am I that interesting?" Sebastian suddenly asks with a hint of amusement in his voice, interrupting your thoughts.

You blink, your focus returning to reality as you realize you've been staring at him for who knows how long.

You are, you almost respond, but out loud you say, "I apologize, I didn't mean to stare."

There's something magnetic about him—something that draws you in, despite the alarm bells ringing in your head, and it's both attractive and unsettling.

As if reading your thoughts, Sebastian smirks. "You staring at me is the least of my problems right now," he says, casually brushing aside long strands of his wavy hair from his shoulder. "Though I won't deny it, I'd prefer it to all the others, even on a good day."

The heat rushes through your body as his eyes lock onto yours, making it hard for you to look away.

The intensity of his gaze pulls you in, but you try to ignore the meaning behind his words, attempting to focus on why it was so urgent for him to come here in person.

Sebastian called you this morning, and you didn't expect his call so soon—just a few days after meeting him. Not to mention, you didn't expect he'd be the one to call first.

Considering how busy you've been the past few days because of the CID, you haven't had time to go through all the documents he provided, and yet... something about all this disturbs you.

"I just don't see the urgency here," you finally say, closing the folder and tapping it with your fingers. "And since I haven't reviewed all the earlier information, I don't understand why you wanted me… here."

You both sit almost opposite each other in the very corner of the long briefing room table, your knees almost touching, but you don't let that thought distract you, returning your gaze to him.

Sebastian's smirk widens as he leans a little closer, and you instantly catch the scent of his cologne.

"I needed you..." he says slowly, holding your gaze with burning intensity, but you refuse to look away as he adds, "...for an outside perspective."

You raise an eyebrow, and he chuckles heartily, leaning back in his chair. "Don't make that face, Detective. You're so easy to tease, I just can't resist," he says, and a rare, genuine smile replaces his usual one that never reaches his eyes.

"So that's why I'm here? Because you want to tease me?" you ask calmly, and his smile turns almost predatory.

"Who knows... Maybe I want much more than that," he murmurs, the smirk fading from his lips.

"Let me guess: you won't tell me exactly what," you say, feeling a pleasant tension building between you. And from the glint in his captivating black eyes, it's evident you are not the only one who can feel it.

"Why would I? I'd rather show you, but..." Sebastian tilts his head, leaning in slightly closer. "Too bad there are cameras here. However..."

You make an effort to maintain your composure despite all your nerves tingling as his hand reaches towards the edge of your chair, his fingertips lightly brushing against your knee. Even through the fabric of your pants, the warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine.

"Maybe I can give you a taste…" he says as his gaze absorbs your every move, every breath, and the dangerous glint in his eyes suggests he wants you to reveal just how much his touch affects you.

But you refuse to give it to him—the reaction he's trying to get from you, silently challenging him as you hold your gaze, aware of where this could lead.

Because he's not the only one who can play these games.

The tension between you becomes almost unbearable, every passing moment of silence fills you with anticipation, and the corners of your lips twitch upward when you notice a hint of raw confidence in his gaze as he finally places his hand on your knee.

Your heart skips a heavy beat, yet you refuse to show how much just a single touch from him affects you.

Instead, you part your lips to speak, but your words catch in your throat as his hand starts to stroke agonizingly slowly upwards. You lower your gaze, tracing the movement, as if the sensation alone isn't enough.

"What do you say, Detective..." His whisper reaches your ears, and you raise your eyes to meet his—dangerous, thrilling, and intoxicating.

"I have nothing to say to you," you reply, keeping your tone deliberately slow and watching how your composed answer affects him.

But the moment you feel the gentle pressure of his thumb on the inside of your thigh, you instantly freeze, biting your lower lip to suppress a contented sigh that longs to escape.

Your reaction doesn't go unnoticed, and Sebastian's smile returns as he leans in closer.

"That's right. You don't need to speak for this," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. You meet his gaze, feeling the urge to reach out to him, sensing his hand moving higher and—

The sound of his name almost slips from your lips in disappointment when he suddenly withdraws his hand, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips.

"No need to look so upset," he says gently, taking the folder from you, his hand brushing against yours.

The fleeting sensation of his skin against yours only makes you want more, but you swallow hard as he fully pulls away. "We'll have time for everything… later."

The heat of his touch lingers, igniting all your senses within. The way he looks at you, the way he speaks—everything about him draws you in, despite your best effort to maintain your composure.

"You're quite confident if you assume I want that," you remark, though the hoarse tone of your voice doesn't escape his notice.

He simply smiles, rising from his seat, and you follow suit. "Not a bad quality, I must say. I bet you even enjoy it."

"You just proved my point," you reply, and his smirk widens, but he offers you nothing more.

You hold each other's gaze in silence, the tension between you growing thicker, almost suffocating. When it becomes almost too much to handle, he takes a step back, and part of you instantly protests against it, but you force yourself to remain still.

"Unfortunately, it's time for me to leave, Detective," Sebastian says, offering his hand to you.

You shake it, but he holds on for a moment longer, and you find yourself doing the same, unwilling to let go just yet.

"I hope you'll contact me so we can work in a more... enjoyable setting," he says, finally letting go of your hand.

As you watch him leave, you feel the warmth of his touch lingering, leaving a faint but unmistakable imprint that you know will draw your thoughts back to that moment, leaving you craving more.

.

.

.

On the way out of the department…

Leaving the central police department, Sebastian finds it hard to keep up a smile. The whole town and the reason for his presence there—everything is so… exhausting.

Everything except the detective.

He hums softly, pulling a lollipop from his trench coat pocket, unwrapping it, and popping it into his mouth.

Sweet.

Tucking the wrapper into another pocket, he strolls into a nearby park, choosing the longer route back to the hotel where he's staying, trying to figure out what's bothering him so much.

He was supposed to be the one leaving a lasting impression. And yet...

Suddenly, he halts, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth and examining it closely, as if it might give him the answers he was hoping for.

Sweet. However…

His mind replays the earlier moment with the detective—the flutter of their eyelashes, their voice, their reaction to his touch...

He pops the lollipop back into his mouth, but now it feels tasteless compared to the memory that replays the sensation of the detective's skin against his, over and over again.

Is that what sweetness truly is? If so, then the question arises: what would the real thing taste like?

A genuine smile graces his face. He's certain the detective will call. And who knows... Maybe the detective will even accept an invitation to his room.

For work, naturally. But Sebastian knows dessert is always served last.

And he can't wait to taste it.