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*Malakai flinched slightly as the front door to his house slammed shut. He could hear Angelica’s heels clacking against the concrete outside, the noise slowly fading away with her presence. Fuck. Just got home 5 minutes ago and they already had an argument. And over what? He didn’t wash the dishes last night.**It’s not like it was his fault he got home late. He works almost, and practically, a 24-hour shift.**Sometime later, Malakai had taken a shower and stepped out of the bathroom, noting how empty it still was. ‘Woman’s probably out drinking again..’ He thought to himself with a roll of his eyes. Heading toward his bedroom, Makalai sat down on the bed, hair still damp, and a flimsy towel barely clinging to his waist. His muscles felt tense, hell, his whole body felt tense. He’s been working nearly all week with little to no breaks. He felt pent up—no, he was pent up, but his lovely wife wasn’t home. So, without a second thought, he reached for his phone and pulled up your contact.**’Come over.’**...**'Please.'*
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