As the guests settled into their seats, waiting for the bride’s arrival, a few of the groomsmen gathered near the altar, posing for photos with practised smiles. Cassius—no, Remmington—stood off to the side, his posture slightly tense, as if he wanted to be anywhere else but here. He straightened his suit jacket and forced a polite smile as the camera fshed, looking every bit the perfect gentleman.
Another groomsman nudged him pyfully, encouraging him to join the group for another round of pictures. Remmington obliged, stepping into the frame and putting on a mask of charm. But just as he looked toward the crowd, his eyes caught a familiar figure standing near the middle aisle.
Gun.
For a brief second, the camera’s fsh blinded him, and he squinted, wondering if his eyes were pying tricks. But no—the figure with the slick, sophisticated suit, the confident stance, and that intense, unwavering gaze was undoubtedly Gun. His heart thumped painfully, and his composed facade faltered. Gun’s expression was unreadable, but his presence felt like a challenge, an unspoken demand for answers in the middle of this carefully orchestrated celebration.
Remmington’s eyes softened, but a glimmer of guilt and worry danced in them. He took a step forward, almost instinctively, as if he could make the space between them disappear. But he stopped himself, gncing around at the oblivious crowd of guests and groomsmen, all too wrapped up in the anticipation of the bride’s arrival to notice his tension.
Gun met his gaze unwaveringly, his face revealing a mix of confusion and disappointment. Remmington knew he couldn’t expin anything here, couldn’t tell him why he was in this wedding, why he hadn’t reached out to him. A weight settled on his chest as he realised he might have lost Gun’s trust without ever getting the chance to defend himself.
The photographer called for another pose, and one of the groomsmen wrapped an arm around Remmington, pulling him back into the group. But as the fshes went off and everyone smiled for the camera, Remmington’s eyes drifted back to Gun, silently pleading for him to understand, to wait, to give him a chance to expin.
Remmington felt a rush of disbelief as he saw Gun smile—a real, genuine, relieved smile that caught him entirely off-guard. The weight pressing down on him lightened for the first time in days. Maybe, just maybe, Gun wasn’t here to burn everything down but to give him a chance to set things right.
As the bridal party gathered at the front for the official photoshoot, Remmington slipped his phone from his pocket, gncing around discreetly before typing out a quick message:
Meet me at the back of the church after the photos. I’ll expin everything.
He hit send, watching Gun gnce down at his phone a moment ter. Gun’s lips curved into a small smirk as he read the message, and he gave Remmington the tiniest nod. Relief washed over Remmington. Despite everything, despite the confusion and the lie, Gun was here, and he hadn’t walked away.
Remmington straightened up, throwing on a st performance of charm for the cameras, but his thoughts were entirely elsewhere. He was already counting down the minutes until he could finally step outside and face Gun.
*
The storage room was dim, the air thick with anticipation as Gun sat on the edge of the table, waiting. He barely had a moment to settle his racing thoughts before Remmington burst through the door, his face lit with a wild excitement as he turned the lock behind him.
Without a word, Remmington crossed the room in a few steps and captured his face between his hands, pressing his lips to his in a fervent, heated kiss. Gun’s hand shot up, fingers tangling roughly in Remmington’s hair as he yanked him back.
“You lied to me,” Gun hissed, his voice low yet tinged with the unmistakable edge of need.
But Remmington’s response was another kiss, deeper, more demanding. Gun pulled back, eyes narrowed, breathless. “I’m talking to you,” he demanded, yanking Remmington’s head back once more.
Remmington met his gaze with a smouldering intensity. “No,” he growled, voice thick with desire. “I want you, and I want you right now.”
A thrill ran through Gun as he took in Remmington’s fierce gaze. “Prove it,” he challenged, his voice taunting.
In one swift motion, Remmington slipped off his tie, pressing it gently against Gun’s lips before guiding it into his mouth. Gun’s breath hitched, his eyes never leaving Remmington’s as he accepted the makeshift gag.
Remmington’s hands roamed with urgency, slipping Gun’s coat from his shoulders, then unbuttoning his shirt slowly, letting his fingers ghost over Gun’s skin as he moved. Gun let his eyes fall shut, every touch igniting a fire that spread through his body. Remmington pushed Gun back, leaning him against the table and guiding his legs apart as he leaned over him, letting his lips trace across his jaw and down his neck. His kisses were rough, hungry, leaving traces of their urgency in the form of marks along Gun’s skin.
With each movement, Remmington showed the passion he’d held back, his hands gripping Gun’s hips firmly, leaving no doubt as to how much he’d missed him. The roughness was lessened by lingering, intense looks between them—moments where Remmington’s gaze softened, and Gun could see the desire and longing he’d tried to bury. The intensity of their connection filled the air, and Gun’s muffled sounds only urged Remmington on, each one heightening the desire between them.
