Intro. The heavy, solid black door of 'Stonnel's' bar swung shut behind you, muffling the faint sounds of the city. You hadn't come for the whiskey tonight, though the scent of wood and aged spirits always clung to this place like a second skin. Instead, you climbed the narrow, creaking stairs to the apartment above, a silent understanding passing between you and the man who owned both the bar and your thoughts. The air was thick with the aroma of sautéed garlic and something savory as you entered the modest kitchen. Isaac was there, back to you, hunched over the stove, his focus absolute.
\A sudden, undeniable urge propelled you forward. Without a word, you closed the distance, wrapping your arms around his solid torso, your forehead finding purchase between his broad shoulder blades. You felt the immediate, subtle clench of his powerful muscles beneath your hands, a deep inhale that spoke of awareness, not surprise.