Victor's hands tightened on the steering wheel, the leather cool under his grip. What the hell was he thinking? The question echoed in his mind, a stark condemnation of his own sheer idiocy. He'd just essentially kidnapped a drunk stranger. Brilliant.
The plan for the night had been simple: drink enough to forget the latest blistering argument with his parents about his 'unstable career path' and their incessant nagging to transfer to a quieter branch. And now this. Look at what he'd managed to do.
His gaze drifted to the passenger seat, to the young man sleeping soundly beside him. His head was lolled toward Victor, a messy cascade of dark waves falling across his forehead. Almost without thinking, Victor's hand lifted, intending to brush the strands aside for a clearer view.
His finger stilled, hovering just above the tip of the man's nose. Long, dark lashes fanned over smooth cheeks. Full, surprisingly soft-looking lips. Flawless skin that seemed to glow in the dim light of the dashboard. Victor's breath hitched. He'd never seen a man so… beautiful. Wait, what?
He shook his head, as if to physically dislodge the bizarre thought. This was absurd. His hand, now acting on a more practical impulse, slipped into the man's jacket pocket and retrieved a worn leather wallet. Flipping it open, a corporate ID card stared back at him in bold letters: SEAN ALLINEA.
Victor's eyes flickered between the photo—a slightly awkward, professional smile—and the serene face beside him. He'd pegged him for some lost college kid, but the birthdate put him at nearly twenty-five. His eyes scanned down to the address. It wasn't far from his own penthouse.
He started the car, the engine purring to life. He'd just drop him off. Simple. But a soft sigh escaped him as the next logical problem presented itself. He had the building, but not the unit number. Was he supposed to just dump him in the lobby? That seemed… irresponsible. A hotel, then?
Victor rubbed his temples, a dull throb beginning behind his eyes. Why was he even complicating this? He could wake him up, shove him out right here, and be on his way. Clean. Simple.
But his eyes drifted back to the sleeping figure. So utterly trusting and vulnerable. He clicked his tongue in frustration.
Decision made, he shifted gears and pulled away from the curb, the car slicing through the near, deserted streets. The city was a tapestry of silent, sleeping buildings, the occasional pair of headlights the only other sign of life. Victor's focus was on the road ahead, until a faint, muffled whisper reached his ears.
The car was silent, the only sound the hum of the engine. Victor's grip on the wheel was tight, his mind a whirlwind of poor decisions and this stranger's unsettling beauty. Then, a faint, broken whisper cut through the quiet.
"…thirsty."
Victor's head snapped toward the passenger seat. "What?" he asked, his own voice rough, not quite sure he'd heard correctly.
He'd come to a stop at a red light without even realizing it. In the glow of the streetlights, he saw Sean's eyelids flutter open. His gaze was clouded, unfocused, but it landed on Victor. The directness of it, even in his hazy state, made Victor's throat go dry. He swallowed hard.
"T-thirsty," the man repeated, the word a little clearer, a soft, plaintive sound.
Victor blinked, then gave a stiff, small nod. The light turned green. He drove, his eyes now scanning the sidewalks until the bright, welcoming lights of a 24-hour convenience store appeared. He pulled over, unbuckled his seatbelt, and turned. "What do you want to drink?"
Silence. He looked over. Sean was out again, his head tilted back against the seat, breathing evenly. Victor closed his mouth, a faint, involuntary smile touching his lips before he could stop it.
Inside the store, he moved with purpose, grabbing a large bottle of water and, on impulse, a couple of electrolyte drinks and a packet of painkillers from the display by the register.
"Find everything alright?" the bored-looking cashier asked as he rang them up.
"Yeah," Victor muttered, handing over cash. "This is it."
Back in the driver's seat, he tried again. "Hey. Wake up. I got you water." He gave Sean's shoulder a gentle shake. The only response was a low, discontented groan before Sean settled deeper into sleep. Victor dragged a hand down his face with a rough, exasperated sigh. This was ridiculous.
He put the car in drive, merging back onto the nearly empty streets. He came to another stoplight, the quiet pressing in on him. He picked up the bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and took a long, slow sip, the cool liquid a relief.
He lowered the bottle—and the world stopped.
The cool plastic was replaced by something impossibly warm. Soft. A gentle, seeking pressure on his lower lip.
Victor's breath caught in his throat, his entire body freezing. His eyes, wide with shock, darted to the side.
Sean had leaned across the center console. His eyes were still closed, his movements those of a sleepwalker. He was kissing him. A faint, drowsy pull on Victor's lip, tasting of nothing but night and a faint, sweet hint of whatever he'd been drinking hours before.
Victor's mind short-circuited. What… what is this?
The gentle suction ceased. Victor drew in a sharp, ragged breath, his face burning. His gaze locked with Sean's—his eyes were half-lidded, glazed with sleep and alcohol, yet holding a silent, questioning intensity.
Acting on an impulse he didn't understand, Victor grabbed the water bottle, took a mouthful, and held it. He leaned back across the console, his movements deliberate now. He pressed his lips to Sean's, which were soft and slightly parted. He stayed perfectly still, letting the water trickle from his mouth into Sean's, a quiet, intimate transfer that quenched the younger man's thirst.
He did it again. And again. And somewhere between the third and fourth time, something shifted. He was no longer just helping; he was participating.
His mouth began to move against Sean's. His tongue slid forward, a tentative tease along the seam of his lips before slipping inside. The taste was a complex mix of vodka, rum, and the sweet tang of margarita—a testament to the night's indulgences. A soft, breathy whimper escaped Sean, and Victor answered it by gently catching his plush lower lip between his teeth, nibbling with careful pressure.
"S…stop," Sean murmured against his mouth, his voice a breathless, drowsy complaint. "That… hurts."
Victor's eyes squeezed shut. He forced himself to still, to pull back the slightest fraction. "Sorry," he whispered, the word a rough apology against the reddened skin. He soothed the spot with a tender, apologetic kiss.
Instead of pulling away, Sean seemed to melt further into him. His arms, clumsy with sleep, wound around Victor's neck, pulling him closer as his lips sought Victor's again. This time, the kiss was deeper, a slow, intoxicating tangle of tongues that made the interior of the car feel impossibly hot.
Victor was the one who broke it, breathing heavily. Sean looked back at him, his expression dazed and questioning, and a fresh wave of desire and sheer panic washed over Victor.
Oh, God.
He nearly swore aloud. "We... we might get carried away," he managed to murmur, his voice husky, grasping for any semblance of reason.
"I don't mind," Sean breathed, the words slurred with sleep and want. In one fluid, surprising motion, he shifted, straddling Victor's lap in the driver's seat, his hands framing Victor's face as he crashed their mouths together again.
That was it. The last thread of Victor's restraint snapped.