The guy in the pressed white suit continued to stare at the back view of the other behind the counter. The black dog rolled his eyes as his minimal reaction to mounting anxiety. It wouldn't be the first time that someone would be hitting on him from a distance.
"About done with my order, hon?" And up close.
"Here you go." A rather saccharine smile that was almost dorky. It complimented the coffee, mint, and citrus mixed drinks just as well. Brown soft hair was gelled back with a thin hand, "Thank you, name?"
"Max." Turning his side to the side to give a knowing glance at his co-worker P.J.
Just who does he think he is?
The lawyer noticed this exchange, "Friend of yours, 'Max'? "
"Yes he is." Neutral in his tone, doing quite well in containing any negative suppositions about his asshole. Unlike his actions to the newbie from before, the man took great care not to have smoke and ashes go in the employee's direction. Cigar in hand, Bradley finally took a seat at the bar to indulge in alcohol. He was much more reserved than a certain relative of his. He gave a smirk at his musing about it, not intending to affect his bartender who cleared his throat to hide for a moment a face that was spotted with pink.
".. Something you want to say?" Syllables formed with such dexterity it would impress another world's college jock.
They had just met in this adult-ridden space, and already Max wondered if he could use his seniority at this job to leave early.
Creep.
He did have to stop himself from peering into deep blue again. Bradley was bemused, "Not much of a social butterfly, are you?" The young man gulped as if to confirm this suspicion. This lawyer observed every little nuance, only growing more interested in several areas. "Got a girlfriend?"
Max smiled forcefully, "I sure do." PJ nearly sneezed in shock, almost dropping a tray that was meant for a table clear across the room. Brad chuckled, "Is she pretty?" Paying little mind to the moment save for the fact that that this worker boy was lying—at least partially.
"She's gorgeous, 'hon'." Letting some toxicity seep out of his lips; it made the older guy by two years blush regardless, "I'm jealous, over her." Clearly eyeing the male in front of him, chin on the back of his hand, "Real jealous."
The other puffed up his chest, irritated, "Sorry; I'm not polyamorous." Max bit down hard on the side of his tongue—One of the first rules of being a bartender was to be as good as possible towards their clients, no matter how rude and crude they got.
This is it. He's gonna rat me out. Didn't care for this fuckin' fancy joint anyway.
The older man stared—the only movement was the stream of smoke from his torch. Eyes at full alert for some grueling moments, before they settled on relaxed once more.
"Forgive, me." Letting some pride fall to the wayside.
"No; you're fine. I apologize for making it obvious: You're quite attractive, Max."
The 'boy' could only look away, "Thanks."
I should've bought a monthly pass!
The dog rummaged in his dress slacks and chain wallet for any shred of hope in the form of a few coins. Nothing. He just missed his friend's departure, after a long talk during their break about their guest.
"You overstepped it back there, Max. It's been months close to a year since you've been with her."
"Tell me what I could've done better save for pouring the glasses on his head..!"
Someone who was just as eager to talk was privy to their conversation. Seeing the bartender in need encouraged him to approach in the midst of Max cursing under his breath.
"There's not much to do with most people here. Want me to drive you?"
Light blue irises flashed in warning to keep away, "I'll figure out a way—quit wasting your time on me." At least these were his off hours to gain permission of becoming another stubborn jerk. Eyes closed in self meditation, like that would help in finding anything, "We're not even in the same class."
The rich guy scoffed, hands on hips and head cocked to the side, "Oh? That's what's going to separate us—how much money we make on an annual basis."
Max couldn't believe him; this was surreal. Eyes snapped open, "Can't you find anyone else to stalk and flirt with?" Walking to the elevator with the ever persistent lawyer following much to his chagrin—
"I want to drive you home; that's all—It's thanks for spicing up my evening after a dull day."
He pressed the button to get the double doors shut. Max freaked out internally at the possibility that 'Bradley' would keep them locked inside for a quick and violent romp just to get his fix—he didn't carry any weapons on him, right? Was there something shining inside one of those pockets?
"Hey, are you alright?" Face pale, the guy snapped out of wild rumors within the city of a serial killer—too much television, "No—I mean, yeah."
It felt like a good idea to run out of the elevator and the parking structure to somehow get on the next light rail as a one-time stowaway than be alone with, him.
"Stop shivering, geez." Smacking a strong hand on his back which made him wince. Max now blindly followed until he saw through his thoughts a strip of blue surrounding the man's vehicle, a black Lincoln—
"You're not a handicap.." Brad grinned. His stance without support and cover up seemed a bit off. How he tended to present himself covered the fact that one of his legs was weak, causing him to sometimes limp minimally. "Oh. Never mind I said that."
Bradley shrugged, unlocking the car with a push of a button; Max was still used to the old types of these things. "Come on in."
The computer prompted the black dog to get his seat belt on ASAP. "That's annoying."
"Mmhm… You can choose the music."
"I'll pass; it's your car."
They hardly talked on the way to Max's humble abode—barely looked at each other save for side glances from the driver. Brad had done preparations to make sure that his phone remembered the route. When they pulled up near the driveway, he gave a sly smirk that only got wider as his passenger got ready to leave the car. The door was locked; Max groaned, "What the hell—?!"
The engine had been cut off to allow leaving the seat. The insufferable professional leaned in close for their making out to which the black dog let out a muffled scream, "Bastard!" A leg had to knee the man hard in the stomach to stop the assault, "agh!"
Max, in fright and arousal, found a way to manually unlock the door behind him to tumble out, "Get outta here—yipe!" falling on his behind on cushiony grass.
"Got, any other things to say, bartender?" Breathless in want.
"'Equal' my foot." The guy struggled to get up, keeping down an urge to snatch up the nearest rock to crack the pristine windshield. All Bradley could do was laugh despite the bruising, "I'll be seeing you plenty, 'Max'. You need the job, after all."
He settled back to his seat with difficulty after the door was shut. The other gulped, "Bye.." Grateful in that moment not to stare at glittering sapphire. Max turned away with belongings under his arm as he fished out his house keys. Speaking of which, the lights of the kitchen and living room were suddenly on.
". . . ."
Once the car was out of sight and earshot, the kid looked back, all too curious as to what the mystery guest's intents were. Face hella red—he'd blame it on an oncoming illness to his father and 'Peej'.
"Auh—ahh..!"
"Nmmh~! Ooh, ooh—!" keeping a stronghold on the bartender's arms behind his back as he pushed in more brutally than before, "Uh!"
"Bradley, ah, Bradley—"pressing himself down despite the sharp pain which subsided with constant stimulation and friction, "Harder—ahh! Harder!" Nothing now but slick, damp noises, "Y-yeah~ Yeah! I'm gonna come!"
"Do it baby~" Rolling his hips sporadically to reach their limit—Max burst forth, throwing his head back with a moan. The other male marked his climax with a growl reverberating inside the boy's head, causing more fluid to spill out, "Ooh.." Panting, falling into his partner's chest, "haa—mmm—haa..!"
Nothing but a casual game between them.
"In my coat pocket, Max.." A lazy hand pulled the article of clothing from a modern-style armchair to their bed; the older one nuzzled into the black fur of the shoulder.. $100 was his reward—or rather, a hefty tip. Nothing less than $20 bills—Brad had insisted on the Benjamin but his bartender got him to think about the world of suspicion surrounding the sudden influx of cash.
On their first go, the employee was drugged via a drink; he should've known better given his profession. The mere looks of the lawyer had a tendency to distract. Max personally wished to have not gone through with it.. Yet, this was a promise of escape in an otherwise stressful life. He made a decision to not let anyone know about it.
"Do you enjoy my company, 'Maximilian'?"
Out of sheer curiosity, Bradley had filed through this worker's records. Names, a couple short Juvi sentences—good, bad, and near ugly. Luckily (or not) less of a delinquent and more of a misunderstood guy finding his footing in society. Anything else was brought into the light during flirtatious discussion. The bartender played it as if he were oblivious.
"I sure do.." Gazing a while longer at the wad of cash before tossing it into his duffel bag.
That first time, the unwilling partner cried in the hotel room underneath the velvet covers as the leader sipped up the last of his dark wine from the bottle. He never did tell him about that detail afterwards—Too much of a bitter aftertaste on his tongue in recalling it to mind.
"Mmh... ow." Hissing a bit at the lingering pain in his leg near the calf.
"Bradley?"
"What—I'm fine hon." Lying in a more beneficial position… Max came in close to his heated face. The man smiled in content. They shared a soft kiss before covering up for the night to not catch cold.
The embarrassing thing was that Max knew next to nothing about this guy, only that he was a sweet talker and had a dire reputation.
He would wake later in Bradley's home with a secret mission of his own before the host would wake up, and later before he would return with coffee and breakfast in bed. The young man's excuse for the weekend to his father and others was that he was hanging with the guys..
After some minutes, he found a tote filled with case files stashed deep inside the walk-in closet. The letterhead began to illustrate the true nature of the male, "'Bradley Uppercrust III / Age: 25 / Master's in'.." Having little time to skim through the case notes, Max found that he seemed to have a concentrated interest in domestic disputes, business, and the occasional homicide.
A particular set of papers accidentally slipped out of a file folder. They told in detail a treatment for a broken leg, and just how the lawyer got the injury in the first place. Digging through other documents and cross-referencing put the pieces together.
As it turned out, upon taking a certain dangerous case, the white dog bit off more than he could chew.
"Max?" From a distance—the bartender rushed to the bathroom sans papers to flush the toilet pretending that he had to use their restroom.
How long had he been calling for him?
"Sorry; I'm still here." Fastening his borrowed robe to open the door for the guy who carried the tray, "I'll take that—don't matter that I'm a guest, right?" Brad gave a pause, blinking, "Yes. Right."
Noting unease, he began to perform a deep massage to 'Maxie's' upper back, "Something wrong..?" Reaching around to give Max his coffee, which he sipped up in gratitude; it ironically calmed the nerves for the time being.
When several minutes passed without a spoken word, Brad followed where he was looking, swearing that eyes went behind, down. "Don't fret about this limb of mine."
"Even when..?" He couldn't take those words back. Slowly, Bradley distanced with an odd curling of his lip, "'Even when'?" Max turned around, hesitantly, "I..!" The lawyer had already gone into the closet—things clearly having been rifled through. Heart stopped for seconds. Then, he chuckled, "Aren't you the curious little monkey?" Bringing out the specific batch of documents, "Had fun learning about my handicap?"
There was something in his orbs that didn't sit too well with the 23 year old. The color stayed put but the shine had gone. The smile mocking. "No, I just.." Shuffling feet failing to find the words.
"Don't get too familiar with me." Voice lowered to an uncharacteristic huskiness without the sensuality, heading in close to see if Max would back away in fear of his safety. Yet with a calloused hold on his arm the dog stayed, peering up at him longingly.
"The more I know about you, Bradley, the more equal we can be."
Brows furrowed, "Go home Max," Sullen, "We're done."
Going blank for some seconds, the younger man then raised a brow, "Really? You're not the only person in the world who's run into goons." Brad grumbled refusing to see him, marked embarrassment and shame on his features.
Max held his hands tight, "I'm not going anywhere—You're figuring out that I'm just as hardheaded as you are." A peck on his cheek, "Food's getting cold."
Tongue worked inside Bradley's mouth, hiding worry about Max's knowledge of his past, and that sometime in the future he would have to be tied to a related case.
At this point, who knew?
".. Fine, honey. You can stay."
Caressing a fresh, rosy complexion made him reciprocate it, which only added to this uncertainty.