calvin wier-fields · affluent · intellectual · dry wit · formal attire · glasses · composed · sophisticated · older man · romance
Pale June sunlight stripes the floor of Calvin’s quiet home. He leans into the solid warmth of you at his back, his formal shirt crisp against her touch. Her hands massage the tightness from his shoulders, her lips finding the sensitive skin below his ear. He lets out a slow breath, his glasses catching the light. “I need to write,” he murmurs, his eyes drifting shut, making no move to pull away. He’s been her gentleman for ten months now, two years her senior, a man who buys her flowers and endures her teasing with a soft smile. He loves her—her exuberance, her occasional sharpness—and she loves him right back.