MB Saucy Side: Confetti (Ferro Version) (Patreon)

“Trust me.”

Ferro’s words cause you to hesitate. Most of his plans that begin by soliciting your faith end with, at very least, a sternly-worded lecture from Kim.

That being acknowledged, the way that he’s looking at you right now, with sideways smile and heavy-lidded brown eyes, causes you to accept his outstretched hand before you’ve fully talked yourself into compliance. His fingers wrap around yours.

He leans close and whispers into your ear, “We’ll need to be quiet.”

Logic dictates that you demand an explanation (Ferro’s fondness for surprises, combined with his disregard for “No Trespassing” signs, has landed you both in multiple law enforcement offices). But his thumb keeps tracing small circles over the back of your hand, and his gaze focuses on your lips with such intensity that you forget that last time you trusted your boyfriend, you both ended up being caught buck naked in a Supreme Court Judge’s vacation home pool. You’d managed to evade the guards, but had been unable to recover your favorite pair of pants.

As Ferro’s lips press softly against your own, however, you find willing to once again gamble the (literal) shirt of your back—or off his back, should you be so lucky. Your hands clench the fabric of his shirt, bringing him closer so that your torso presses against his, and you feel Ferro’s breath stutter with excitement against your lips. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he pulls back.

Wordlessly, he pulls you down the hallway. You stumble after him, squinting to make out the numbers lining the office doors. The lights at Aeon are turned off on this floor, the late hour meaning that most AMOs and MIVs have headed home. You and Ferro only just finished work and should be returning to your separate homes. But his whispered “Trust me” isn’t just a plea, it’s a promise.

Being with Taliaferro Parker means being open to adventure.

Ferro suddenly stops, and you almost crash into his back. He spins, catching you just in time.

“We’re here,” he says, attempting to whisper but unable to keep himself from laughing. He reaches into his hoodie pocket—it’s neon orange about the only thing you can clearly see in the dim emergency lighting—and takes something out.

“You would not believe the trials I endured to get my hands on this keycard.” Ferro shudders. “It involved flattering Clarence.”

“My hero,” you declare.

The keycard reader beeps red as he slides the card, and you hear the door unlatch. Ferro pushes it open.

You groan, recognizing the shadowed layout of the office’s furniture. Of all the . . . of course Ferro would choose here of all places for a late-night rendezvous. At least, you hope it’s a late-night rendezvous. It’s been hard to get time alone with your boyfriend since his apartment flooded and he moved in with Kent, as Antigone and Cassandra have schemed to begin whining in front of Ferro’s bedroom door as soon as you shut it. Kent has apologized, explaining that the shih tzus dislike feeling excluded, but the fact remains that you haven’t had quality alone time with your boyfriend in over two weeks.

But still. Couldn’t he have picked someplace more romantic?

“Ferro.” You flip on the switch, the overhead light shining confirmation upon your location. “Why are we in Rosy’s office?”

Ferro pushes aside the neat stacks of paperwork on Kim’s desk. He poses, half-humorously and half-seductively, leaning back on the vacated area like a calendar model posing atop a muscle car.

“Isn’t that obvious?” he asks, crooking a finger at you. “I’ve missed you.”

“You’re going to get us killed,” you protest, but nevertheless step near enough for him to wrap his arms around your waist.

He mumbles an “uh-huh” that sounds vaguely apologetic, but seems more focused on undoing the button of your uniform collar than making amends. The button pops open, and then another, and then his lips are trailing down the line of your neck and onto your bared shoulder.

One of your hands grips his upper arm as if to order him to stop, but the other splays over the back of his head, silently urging him to continue.

“I thought—” Ferro nips your shoulder, “we deserved—” his tongue flicks over your collar bone, “a break,” he finishes, returning to your neck.

“But why here?” You gasp as Ferro begins to undo more buttons to your jacket. His fingers are cold against the bare skin of your chest.

“Because no one would dare enter Rosy’s office without permission.” He pulls back with a slight frown as one button remains stubbornly hooked. You place a hand over it, halting his progress on your clothing.

“I have missed you,” you admit. “But I’d rather we didn’t get expelled.” As an apology, you lean forward and gently bite the shell of his ear.

Ferro groans and looks up at the ceiling as if praying for divine patience.

“Not to mention,” you continue, “we just got off probation due to our last meetup. If Rosy catches us, we’ll be writing daily extra credit exams until we graduate.”

“I both hate and love your logical side,” Ferro says.

You gently tease his earlobe with your teeth and whisper, “Some risks are worth it. But not this one.”

“Fair enough,” Ferro admits. “That’s not why I brought you in here, anyway.”

“It isn’t?”

Ferro shakes his head with a sly smile. He drops to one knee. Before you can begin to formulate a response (You’re still enrolled at Aeon! You’ve only been dating for a year!), he pulls out a key from his hoodie’s pouch and presents it to you like an engagement ring.

“Love of my life,” he says, “will you move in with me?”

Your hug almost knocks him onto the floor. He responds to your kisses with enthusiasm, before reluctantly pushing you away.

“I have a realtor lined up to show us a few places tomorrow,” he says. “There’s this one condo around twenty minutes from Aeon that I think you’ll really like.”

“I’m sure it will be perfect.” You beam at him, then frown slightly with confusion. “But why go through all the trouble of sweettalking Clarence just to ask me here?”

Ferro’s eyes widen as if just recalling something. He leaps up from the floor and heads over to the window, where he pulls what you at first take to be the curtain string. Instead of a shade, however, a large rainbow banner unfurls over the glass, printed with the words “They Said Yes!”

“Wait for it,” Ferro says. He reaches once more into his hoodie and pulls out a small remote with a single button. He pushes it.

Immediately, you’re immersed in a shower of confetti. You glance up at the ceiling to see that several boxes that have been duct taped to the ceiling corners. It takes almost an entire minute for their contents to run dry, and when the explosion ends, Kim’s office resembles a New Orleans street corner the day after Mardi Gras. Confetti coats every inch of the room in a sparkling rainbow dew, and Ferro hasn’t stopped laughing.

“Do you know how hard glitter is to get rid off?” Ferro asks with a wicked smirk. “That is why I picked Rosy’s office.”