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“What are you doing here Jacob?”
His headache had only gotten worse during the day, and the appearance of Jacob Lash in his office didn't help. There was never anything good coming from a visit by the other man, trouble following him anywhere he went. Troubles that were almost exclusively started by Lash himself. Abrams wouldn't be surprised if someone came crashing through his windows anytime now, guns raised at them.
“What, you're not excited to see your old pal? I'm hurt.” Lash couldn't bother hiding his smirk as he began walking around the small desk Abrams spent way too much time at. It wasn't unusual for him to fall asleep on top of it, his head resting on the thick stack of casefiles.
Lash circled the wooden desk, picking up the big obsidian marble that Abrams used as a paperweight. An old lady had gifted it to him years ago, as a token of gratitude. Lash observed it in his hands, feeling the weight of it and tossing it from side to side. He was too quiet, pretending to be interested in the sphere. Abrams was starting to feel a bit of unease.
“Cut to the chase, what do you want?” Abrams finally snapped at him.
They had too much history together that this would be considered a casual visit.
His temple was steadily throbbing with pain as it had been for the last month or so. By now, he couldn't remember a day he hadn't felt it. Lash put the marble down again and glanced at Abrams desk. His gaze was observing the Tome, lying underneath some papers, badly hidden from view. It took every bit of strength Abrams had to resist grabbing it. He didn't want any unwanted attention dragged to it, and he certainly didn't want Lash to be able to hold it over him. It was too risky.
“What, do I need to have ulterior motives to visit a friend?” Lash snapped his gaze back to Abrams, the Tome forgotten for now.
“We're not friends.” Abrams quickly retorted, trying to nonchalantly put a pile of papers over the book. Lash watched his movement closely.
“Of course we are. I was concerned for you. I've seen you around town, watching you when you thought no one was around, always looking over your shoulders. You're tense, on edge constantly. It's bad for you.” Abrams scoffed at that, unintentionally tensing up at the thought of being watched like that. The paranoia seems to have been justified then.
“I know how busy you've been lately, snooping around every corner of New York, trying to find answers for questions you haven't even thought of. I know how obsessed you've been with that book of yours. Word spreads around fast in the underground.” At Lash’s last part both of them glanced again at the Tome on his desk. Abrams really didn't want to address it, but perhaps Lash knew something that he didn't.
He was taken by surprise when he saw something moving in the corner of his eye as Lash's hand suddenly gripped his jaw. Instinctively, Abrams tried to back off from the sudden grip, but Lash held firmly and tilted his gaze down towards him instead, looking straight at him. How he’d gotten so close to him without him noticing, he didn’t know.
“Don't worry, I don't want anything to do with that shit, I have enough on my own plate.” Lash said as his rough thumb stroked Abrams' chin. Abrams swatted at his hand and backed away.
“I'm sure you have.” Abrams' reply was short as he fought the urge to touch where Jacob’s hand had just been, his skin tingling at the touch that used to be so familiar. He’d heard enough rumours surrounding the other man lately, knowing that a large part of town wanted to see him dead. He was still undecided on that part himself. Whatever he'd done this time seemed to be on a new level. But Abrams didn't know the details and he sure as hell didn't want to stir up anything or bring unwanted attention to himself over it.
“Caught you in a bad time? You need to relax so you don't self-destruct, and lucky for you, I am here to help you with that. And you won't even owe me for it. How does that sound?”
“Like a lie. You never do anything for free.” Abrams dryly said, not taking a chance on things as he grabbed the book from his desk, hugging it snugly underneath his arm. Lash followed his movements intensely, and while he might claim otherwise, there were a lot of people who did want it. He didn’t rule out that Lash might owe someone a favour.
“Aw Abrams, I'm doing this for selfish reasons as well. I've been thinking about how things ended between us and I want to make amends.” At that Abrams scoffed. There were so many different scenarios rolling through his head where the other man had put them both in danger.
“Which one of the times? When you hired me to find a woman who turned out to be a Sandman that nearly killed both of us? Or when you left me unconscious in an alley while you ran away with an ancient artefact? Which my client still wants me to find.”
“C’mon, I've already apologized for them, I thought you were over those.“
“A note at my desk with a wad of cash is not the apology I appreciate.”
“Tsk tsk, always so uptight. Fine, I’m sorry and I'll do better and all that.”
“Just tell me what you want from me Jacob.” Abrams was getting weary, those hours of sleep he’d missed starting to catch up to him.
There was a slight pause from Lash, as he studied Abrams up and down. There was something really familiar about that, but Abrams was still caught off guard by his next words.
“I’ll be bold since that’s the only thing you understand. I want to fuck you again.” Lash said with a serious tone, nothing in his eyes betraying his feelings.
This was not the direction he'd anticipated. Lash usually wanted Abrams to look up some people he'd pissed off, or hide away for a few hours. He felt his cheeks heat up as he studied the other man. His face didn’t betray him, his expression, as always, hard to decipher.
Silence. Longer than he’d like to admit.
“What the fuck Lash, you break into my office for this?” Abrams couldn't believe the other man.
“See, you say ‘breaking in’, I’d say the window was unlocked.” Lash countered.
“We're on the eighth floor.”
“Small details. Come on, it's not like we haven't fucked before.”
“What, a few months 15 years or so ago?”
“We had some really good times, your mouth was so amazing, I wonder if you're still as skilled.“ Lash continued as if he hadn’t heard him, staring at Abrams mouth and lost somewhere else all of a sudden. Abrams felt exposed under the scrutiny, remembering the nights they'd spent together. The details of how they’d even started that relationship was nearly lost to Abrams, only flashes of his memories. A rooftop looking over New York, a shared cigarette, an uncertain kiss from his younger self that was enthusiastically answered there and then. Hands exploring underneath clothes, a foggy chill surrounding them, no one else around.
They’d both been younger then, the whole world had been at their fingertips. And then it wasn’t anymore. Lash had dragged him in, and Abrams had drowned in his arms, unable to say no to him.
“You might remember it as good times, I was trying to stay out of trouble and not get killed, no thanks to you.“ Being with Lash had been bliss for Abrams, the man knowing exactly where to push and pull at Abrams to make him weak. But being with him had also turned out to be dangerous. How one person could have so many enemies was beyond his understanding, even when they were younger.
It ended when Abrams got caught in the middle of a case with Lash on one end and one of the bigger criminal syndicates on the other. Fearing for both of their safety, he broke it off with him. Lash had seemed unfazed by it, which in the end had hurt the most.
“It's been too long, for both of us. I've seen you, coming home alone. Always looking over your shoulders, waiting for someone to ambush you. You might be the detective but you have terrible perception.”
Abrams wasn't a huge fan of the thought that Lash was constantly surveilling him when he was unaware. Then again, Lash was right. Between work and worrying about the tome, Abrams had little time to relax and seek out company. Not that he hadn't thought about it.
“What makes you think that I want a quick fuck? Simply because I haven't been ‘getting it’ for a while?” Now that Lash had brought it up, Abrams' pulse had gone up. He was scanning for clues in the other man's body language, in his appearance. Whatever had attracted him about the other man was still very much present. It's not like it had magically gone away, despite the years, but Abrams had thought he was the only one of them who still had those feelings.
Unless Lash was insincere and was just looking to use him, which was not a far fetched idea. It would also be on brand for him.
“The Abrams I knew back then could barely go a day without wanting my cock. I want to hear you beg for me again, I want to see you on your knees for me, eager to serve again. You were always so good for me, weren't you?” he'd stepped closer to Abrams again, pressing him against the small desk, a hand on his hip and the other cupping his jaw. His thumb traced Abrams bottom lip.
Abrams always knew that Lash was bold, so this shouldn't have come as a shock. But it had been years since this had even been a thing between them. Years since Lash had talked to him like this, and not like an acquaintance asking for a favor.
And maybe it was his lack of sleep the last few weeks, or maybe it was the lack of intimacy for who knows how long, but Lash's touch sent shivers down his spine, memories of a past Abrams could never quite leave. He did sometimes regret breaking whatever they’d had between them so many years ago. As his mind was reeling and his skin tingling, Lash could see that he had an effect, no matter how small, and pushed forward even more.
“See, you've missed it too, I can tell.” Lash said with a grin and Abrams was reminded of how punchable that face was. For the other man, this was simply a need. For Abrams, it had always been more.
Despite that, Abrams had missed this aspect of their relationship. It was hard having Lash as an acquaintance, friend if they stretched it, but as lovers they were something else. It had been passion, it had been rage, it had even been sweet at rare times. And Lash was correct in his assumptions. Abrams was tense, he was tired of always looking behind his back, of not being able to relax.
He was nearly ready to admit that he'd missed sleeping with the other man, but he didn't want to fuel his ego. But what harm would it bring him, to be as selfish as Lash and take him up on his offer?
“So, what now?” Abrams asked in acceptance. It was as close to a ‘yes’ he was willing to give him at this stage, trying to act nonchalant and not show how he was starting to get riled up. Give him some deniability if this went to shit. He always wanted some semblance of control when in Lash's company. Otherwise he would get obliterated by the other man, with little care. It was a recurring theme between them.
Lash didn’t reply. Instead he stood up and let go of Abrams' jaw. He walked around his desk and took a seat in his chair, without saying anything. He made a show of removing his whip from his belt before sitting down, tugging it taut before he placed it on the desk. He had an obvious hard-on underneath his pants as he made a show of spreading his legs out, getting comfortable. The arrogance of the man was mildly infuriating to Abrams. It was even more so when Lash patted down on his lap, an invitation to take a seat. Despite the feeling of humiliation that was slowly building, and his better judgement, Abrams put down the Tome on the faraway corner of his desk and closed the gap between them to straddle Lash's lap.
To say that this was a bad idea was an understatement.
His legs were squished on either side of him, pressed firmly against the armrests. The poor chair creaked underneath their combined weights and it was definitely not big enough for them both, uncomfortable and tight.
In his mind he tried to convince himself that he was the one in control, but the moment that he felt Lash’s hand crawl up along his thigh, that thought flew out the window, down all eight floors. Lash knew it better than him apparently, and grinned as his hands started stroking Abrams’ thighs and ass, still covered by his pants.
Abrams' own hands grabbed onto Lash’s shoulder, trying to keep his balance as the man pulled him closer.
Without wasting any time Lash’s hand grabbed Abrams neck and dragged his head down, pressing their lips together harshly. His other hand crept steadily to the front of Abrams pants, unbuttoning them and exposing his underwear as well as his semi hard on. It was embarrassing how little it had taken for him to get hard. Like he was a fucking teenager again, on that rooftop where they had shared their first kiss.
His sentimentality was met with another grin from the other man. Lash pulled away from his lips and looked up at him. His hand unbuttoned his pants and he started to stroke Abrams cock through his briefs. Abrams had always hated the way that Lash’s eyes pierced into him, always saying more than his words ever did. Always looking for his reaction instead of what he was doing.
“Already hard, Abrams? I knew that you’d missed me.” His voice dripped with arrogance, another one of his uglier sides. To say that it didn't turn him on would be a lie. Abrams couldn't seem to get enough of being humiliated by Lash.
“It has nothing to do with you. As you said, it’s been too long.” Lies. It had everything to do with him. The embarrassing part had always been how much control he took from him, just by being in his presence.
“You’re going to be like that?” Lash’s hand sneaked inside of Abrams’ briefs and grabbed his cock, making him let out a shaky breath as Lash’s warm hand began to stroke him. “It doesn’t really matter, as long as I make you come while you ride my dick.” Lash had moved from his mouth and was whispering in his ears, nibbling at his skin around his neck. It was almost tender, and if Abrams didn’t know any better he would call it affectionate.
But he did know better.
Just the thought of riding him again after all this time however made his cock twitch. Lash, still with a grip around him, chuckled.
“Just shut up.” Abrams snapped, his cheeks heating up. Lash didn’t seem to acknowledge that and started to remove Abrams’ coat.
Lash had always known just what Abrams wanted to hear, whether he himself knew it or not. For Lash, it was about getting Abrams to a state of begging for release. Lash never asked for the same back, giving up control was not something he did, no matter the situation.
“Don’t act all shy all of a sudden for me. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, you, writhing on top of me. Or would you prefer to be underneath me?” One of Lash’s hands pressed down on Abrams hip ever so slightly, a suggestion for him in case he'd say yes. Despite their difference in size, Lash was and always had been the stronger one. His days as a boxer showed itself in his demeanor, how he walked and reacted to the elements around him. Abrams had no doubt that he could still be flipped around without much effort. That thought alone sent another wave of arousal through his body.
“Can you just fuck me so we can get on with our lives?” This was one of the stupidest things Abrams had done so far. Well, one of the dumb things he’d ever considered going back to. Lash had been and still was a dangerous man to be around. Abrams had enough scars on him from their different encounters, most of them after they could no longer be called lovers.
“I thought you might appreciate some foreplay. But baby, you don’t need to tell me twice.” The old nickname came at him like a freight train. The nights that Lash had whispered it in his ear, telling him how good he was for him. He must have blanked out for a second, lost in old memories.
Suddenly Abrams was lifted up from the chair with ease from Lash. His pants were getting dragged down along with his underwear, the fabric bunching up at his calves and trapping his feet together as he was again dropped down onto the other’s lap. The pants strained at his feet, pressing into Lash as he sat in front. Lash on the other hand seemed unbothered by it, and much more focused on his next task planned.
Before Abrams could even point out the awkwardness of the position, he felt Lash's hand caressing the back of his thighs, a finger tracing at his rim, trying to dip into him slightly. Abrams felt too out of control right now, in his own office, in his own chair on top of that. Knowing the other man he would just take and take until Abrams said anything about it, and he was not in the mood of being taken dry.
Wanting back any semblance of control, he grabbed onto Lash’s hair. Forcing him to look at Abrams. The other man seemed more amused than anything by this. Something sparked behind his eyes as Abrams felt him shift underneath him, adjusting himself in his pants. Of course this was something the other man was turned on by.
“I’m going to assume that you came prepared then?” Abrams finally said now that he’d gotten his attention and tugged slightly at his hair, a silent warning.
“I’d never show up without it.” Another lie from Lash, but feeling his cold, prodding fingers tracing at his rim again, this time also cold and slick with what Abrams could only guess was lube, made him nearly forget being mad. The fact that Lash had been so arrogant as to even bring it in the first place maybe said more about Abrams’ resolve than anything else.
He’d never really been able to say no to the other man, whether it had been about hiding an artefact for a few days or lying to someone. Whenever Lash had asked him for something, Abrams had a hard time refusing him.
And Lash knew it too.
“Lift up a bit babe.” Lash had moved closer to Abrams’ neck and whispered encouragingly to him, as he started to kiss him underneath his jaw. The old nickname registered for him and something stirred in his chest at the familiarity. If Abrams didn’t know him so well he would almost call it gentle. Instinctively he obliged as Lash’s finger breached his ass, his knuckle deep within his ass, stretching him.
It was almost nostalgic, if that was even a word he could use for someone fingering him. It was weird to realise that this part of Lash had remained the same despite the years, when so much of him had changed. So much of them both. Yet in this moment Abrams saw Lash before him as he’d looked all those years ago, not filling up his muscles quite as good, cleanly shaved and eyes full of mischief.
The image quickly disappeared as Lash added another finger to his ass, bringing him back to the present with a jolt.
“A warning would be nice.” Abrams grunted on top of him, Lash looking up at him knowing exactly how he affected him. Suddenly Lash’s free hand grabbed onto his cock, stroking him loosely and slowly while fucking him with his fingers. His legs started to shake as he tried to sit upright, hovering over Lash’s lap to give him better access to all of him. His cheeks were flushed as he saw the other man taking in all of him, from his open shirt that was falling off his left shoulder to his thighs squeezing the outside of Lash’s. He pressed harder into him, a grunt of approval leaving his lips as he seemed to like what he saw.
Nothing was said for a while, Abrams focusing on what Lash’s hands were doing to him and Lash in turn keeping his focus on him, occasionally leaning in to nibble on Abrams skin that were closest to him.
“One more.” It took Abrams a second to register the words, even longer to recognize this as the warning he’s asked for earlier. A third finger joined the other two, stretching him more to prepare for Lash’s cock. Abrams glanced down to his crotch, wanting to see more of the other man but was only met with the sight of Lash leaning forward, almost as if he’d known that he would look down in that moment. It took Abrams an embarrassingly long time to register what Lash was doing, as he opened and swallowed Abrams’ cock in his mouth.
He jolted at the sensation, the combination of this move and the fingers stretching his ass was making him way too sensitive. It took every ounce of self-control for him not to buckle at the knees or thrust into Lash’s hot mouth, which took more and more of his dick. The feeling of Lash’s fingers and mouth overwhelmed his senses, filling him up all too quickly.
He grabbed onto Lash shoulder and his bicep, gripping hard enough that it would bruise. A pathetic whimper managed to escape his lips as he felt his release coming all too quickly. Before he could even say anything he tipped over the edge, his climax washing over him with warmth. He shuddered as Lash still had him in his mouth, greedily swallowing all of his cum as Abrams’ legs finally gave out. Lash’s fingers left his ass, the angle making it difficult to reach.
When it hit him, Abrams felt his cheeks heat up. It used to take much more than that to make him cum, and now it had only been like ten minutes? He pressed his face into Lash’s collarbone, feeling both shame and embarrassment. Hiding against his ex-lovers chest, who just made him come like he was a teenager again, was even more shameful, but it beat having to look him in the eyes and acknowledge it. If neither of them said anything, maybe he could still get away with his dignity. He felt puffs of air against his neck, Lash seeming to be as riled up as he was.
“Don’t hide your face, I want to see you when I fuck you.” That was all the warning Abrams got before he was hoisted up and thrown down on his back at the top of his desk. The feel of Lash’s hands grabbing onto his ass cheeks and spreading them made him gasp, his skin still tingling after his orgasm. Not being nearly prepared for it, Abrams hands shot out to his sides to grab onto the edge of his desk. The wood creaked underneath his fingers at the sudden pressure, the piece of furniture older than both of the men combined. Abrams looked up at Lash with a glare, knowing he’d heard it too.
“Oh come on Abrams, I broke a bed once? These old desks are made to last.”
“And a couch, and the backseat of that taxi, and-”
“-and the rest is history as they say.” Going back to the task at hand, Lash’s fingers travelled downwards, finding his ass again and pressing in again with his fingers.
“I don’t know if I can-” Abrams tried to sit up to grab onto Lash’s hand that had started to finger him again, but was shoved down by his other hand on his chest
His mind had rarely wandered too much in his field of work, and being splayed out on his desk was definitely something he’d never thought about. The obsidian marble was pressing into his shoulder uncomfortably as Lash was hovering over him, his arms on either side of him and his nearly unnatural warmth emanating from him.
“Of course you can, I’ll take real good care of you.”
That was the only warning he got before Lash had decided that it was time to move. He freed his own cock from his underwear and gave it a few strokes. With strong hands his fingers dug into the sensitive skin of Abrams inner thighs and spread him open. The detective didn’t even have time to feel shameful of being so openly on display, before Lash dragged his hips closer and pressed his cock into him.
The three fingers were nothing compared to his dick, and Abrams tensed up as he was stretched wide. He grabbed onto Lash’s wrists to anchor himself, as Lash himself held a firm grip on his hips. That didn’t stop him from making small thrusts in and out, slowly going deeper and deeper.
“Relax Abrams.” he said and Abrams shot him a frustrated look, as if that wasn’t what he was already doing.
“You saying it doesn’t make it automatically happen.” Abrams managed to get out between breaths.
Lash didn’t answer that, instead he pushed harder, his thumbs pressing painfully into his pelvis, sure to leave bruises there later and Abrams groaned at the pressure. It was something Lash had always done, that Abrams never understood. He’d once told Abrams that it was a mark that he was only his, in the same way that he’d covered him in bitemarks on his throat and collarbone.
“I know babe, but I also know that you like it rough, don’t you still?” As if to prove a point he bit down hard on Abrams neck, and Abrams reflexively grabbed onto Lash’s hair again and pulled him away harshly. Again he was met with a fiery look and a grin that made Abrams’ instincts scream danger. Despite that his cock twitched when Lash grunted in pain, still thrusting into him.
“You too it seems.” Abrams said breathlessly. A small twitch of Lash’s lips was all the warning he got before his hand was ripped away and pinned down onto the desk next to his head. His other hand met the same fate, and then Abrams nearly forgot to breathe when a particularly hard thrust rattled him and shook the desk underneath him.
The pace Lash had set now was brutal, the sound of their moans mixing with the slaps of skin against skin. Abrams’ own cock was bouncing against his stomach, the tip scraping against Lash’s hard abdomen with each thrust. It was nearly unbearable, already too sensitive after coming once. He didn’t realise how hard he’d gripped onto Lash’s bicep to try to steady himself, until he let go of it, seeing the skin underneath reddening in the shape of his fingertips. An apology nearly left his lips, until he saw the wide, almost feral grin on Lash’s face.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensations around him. The musky smell of Lash mingling with the smell of sex and his own sweat surrounded him. A cold breeze kept grazing at his face and the small parts of skin not covered by the heat from the other man.
The chill on his cheek was replaced with a familiar warmth as the scent of leather and cigar smoke filled his nose. Then a pair of lips started to trail against his neck, puffs of air traveling against his skin, both warm and cold to him, his skin tingling from being untouched for so long.
“You’re so good for me baby, your ass was made to take my cock.” Lash huffed out between thrusts, his praise stirring something deep in him.
Abrams wanted to deny it, not planning to play along to the other man’s game. But he couldn’t get a word in, unable to focus on a comeback or shut him down. It was as if Lash had memorized everything about his body despite the years since he’d last had him like this, his hands squeezing at his hips and waist.
He had a hard time focusing on anything else than his orgasm building up. It was nearly too much.
Then Lash started to stroke his cock in time with his harsh thrusts and it was suddenly too much, too hard and too fast and-
“Fuck Lash, I’m coming-”
“Come for me babe, I want you to come on my cock.” Lash grunted in a breathless tone and Abrams knew from memory that meant that he was close too. Before he had a chance to respond he felt his orgasm wash all over him, his back arching as his whole body tensed up. He must have blacked out for a second, as the next thing he felt was a tight grip around his hipbones as Lash pulled him flush against him, his body shaking as he grunted with his own release, filling him up with his come.
Apparently that was all the strength either of them mustered, as Abrams fell flat against the desk and Lash ungracefully fell on top of him.
It took a few moments for Abrams’ skin to stop tingling all over. And then, the cold started to creep up on him despite the uncomfortable warmth emanating from Lash’s body. He was pressing into him, his now limp and wet dick pressed between them. With a grunt Abrams pushed Lash off of him and sat up, feeling his cheeks burn when he realised that Lash had come inside of him and it didn’t want to stay out. He cursed as he found his pants and pulled them up, needing to worry about that later.
It was as if standing up brought him a new clarity. He couldn’t believe that he’d been so easily persuaded into sleeping with Lash. It was as if those 15 odd years had been washed away. He glanced over at Lash who was adjusting his suspenders and combing through his ruffled hair. When he noticed that Abrams was looking at him he smirked, his gaze lingering on Abrams’ neck. He briefly remembered that Lash had bitten him there and was probably admiring his handiwork.
Abrams snapped out of his thoughts, feeling tired and anxious now that he wasn’t horny anymore.
“I think you should leave.” he finally said to Lash, avoiding looking him in the eyes.
“Kicking me out without a cuddle?” Lash’s tone gave nothing away, as usual.
“Look I- I think I need some time to actually process-” Abrams paused, because not only had he surprised himself with agreeing to this in the first place, he was also scared at how much he’d missed it.
“-whatever this was.”
“Well, ‘whatever this was’ was very fun. Let’s do it again soon.” Lash said with a smirk, already eyeing Abrams up and down like a price.
“We’ll see.” Abrams was trying not to give anything away in his expression. Because truthfully this might just have been a lapse in judgement, a way to blow off some steam that had been piling up for months. A small part was screaming that he was in denial, but he could ignore that for now.
“Well then, bye for now, Abrams. I will dream of that beautiful ass of yours for nights to come.” Lash winked at him as he moved up to the window and then leapt out. Abrams was a bit taken aback by that comment. He watched as Lash disappeared into the night, and went up to the window to close and lock it this time.
His mind was reeling with thoughts now that he was finally alone with them, and with them came the uncertainty that always lingered whenever Lash was involved.
Any sane person could tell him what he already knew, Lash was not to be trusted. He was unpredictable, had too many enemies and never gave anything away. He was rough in ways that could become borderline dangerous.
Yet somehow he still had a soft spot for the man, his memories of him overshadowing the arrogant man who had so cockily taken a seat at his desk, acting like he owned the place, acting like he owned Abrams. And in a sense, hadn’t Abrams just proven that as well? At least a part of him would always belong to Jacob, the man he’d shared more than a kiss with once an eternity ago, more than a life ago.
He really needed a cigarette.
As he turned around and saw the mess he’d been left with he sighed. Papers were strewn everywhere, and it seemed sometime during their rendezvous his paper weight had fallen down to the ground, luckily unscathed it seemed. He then froze. Lunging himself to the desk he rummaged through the papers that had scattered around and frantically tossed them down to the ground, only to be filled with dread at the sudden realization.
The tome was gone.
“Fucking asshole.” Abrams cussed as he grabbed his coat and gun from the mess and ran out of the door.