He was being spoiled.
There was no other word for it.
And the worst part?
He didn't mind. Not even a little.
Ezekiel exhaled slowly, shifting his weight as he stood at his post, his gaze sweeping over the crowd in practiced intervals. To anyone watching, he looked relaxed—just another guard doing his job. But beneath that calm exterior, his mind was anything but still.
It kept drifting.
Back to that morning.
Back to all the dirty things he had done with his lover this morning. The way he had been touched and he had come undone underneath Peter and the promises peter haf madr fir the night? He couldn't wait anymore.
His ears burned at the memory, heat creeping up the back of his neck.
"Focus," he muttered under his breath, dragging himself back to the present.
This wasn't the time.
This wasn't the place.
He forced his attention outward again, scanning faces, movements, patterns—everything exactly where it should be.
Until it wasn't.
It was small.
