The bass thumped hard—thud, thud, thud—until the glasses on the table rattled with every beat.
Neon lights cut through the smoky air, flickering across the bar as if the whole room spun with the music. The heavy tang of alcohol mixed with sharp colognes of the city' s spoiled rich kids, all flaunting their taste in excess.
At Reya' s table, chaos never stopped.
"Holy shit—Rey! Rey, your old man' s here!" Rome yelled, his drink nearly spilling as he jerked upright. His eyes weren' t wide from the music cutting off but from spotting a man he knew all too well. A man whose sharp gaze had already locked onto Reya, who sat there with pretty boys draped over both shoulders.
Reya lifted his flushed face, drunk and grinning stupidly, his voice slurred.
"Huh? Whaddya mean? My dad' s asleep… Oh. Ohhh, wait. Babe—S-Superintendent…"
The room' s neon glow reflected off polished police uniforms as officers stormed in, pushing through the crowd. Laughter and chatter died instantly, replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence.
Superintendent Keerati strode into the center of the bar, tall, sharp, and expressionless. His voice cut through the tension, cold and commanding:
"Drug tests. Everyone."
But his piercing gaze didn' t sweep the room—no, it fixed directly on Reya.
Reya grinned wide, his drunken bravado leaking through.
"Everyone? Really, Superintendent?"
The way he said it—teasing, mocking—made it sound like he was addressing an old flame instead of a cop ready to drag him in. The smirk on his lips carried memory.
"I' m too drunk to raise my hands…" Reya staggered forward, arms out like he was going to collapse right into the officer' s chest. For a second, he caught the familiar scent he' d been starving for. Almost close enough—
—but Keerati stepped aside, letting him stumble right into Rome, who promptly shoved a foot into his crotch to keep him from falling all over the cop.
"Fake-ass drunk," Pyramyd muttered flatly as he arrived at the scene.
"Pathetic act," Versailles snorted behind his hand like some aristocrat laughing at a clown.
"Ughhh, my dick—Rome, you bastard—!" Reya groaned, clutching himself.
"Bro, what' s wrong with you? Your man shows up and suddenly your tongue dies?" Rome snapped, yanking him upright by the hair.
Reya, half-laughing, half-pleading, lifted his hand again.
"Superintendent, I can' t piss in a cup… my cock' s too heavy, sir."
"You pervert!" Pyramyd barked, his face blazing red.
Versailles leaned close to whisper, smirking.
"Look at Keerati' s face. If Reya weren' t some politician' s kid, he' d have kicked his teeth in already…"
Keerati' s brow furrowed, his deep voice sharp.
"Stand up. Get tested."
"I can' t~ Carry me, please…" Reya whined, eyes glassy, his tone bizarrely affectionate.
Rome facepalmed so hard it echoed.
"Fuck this—I don' t know him. If there' s a reporter in here, someone drag him the hell away before I kill him myself."
But Reya, still clinging and staggering, leaned closer, intoxicated not just on booze but on the mere presence of the man he once had. He wanted to bury his face against that broad chest again, breathe in the scent he missed so damn much.
"Yes~" Reya hummed, tailing behind the Superintendent like a drunk puppy. His hazy eyes shamelessly traced the man' s frame—his fingers, throat, shoulders, waist, all the way down his hips. If looks could penetrate, he' d already be inside.
"You were pretty quick to sling your arm around those boys earlier…" Keerati muttered without glancing back, his pen scratching against his notepad.
Reya only bit his lip, eyes burning with heat, staring at the man' s chest like he wanted to eat him alive. Keerati turned away.
One of the junior officers leaned in and whispered, "Sir, the place is crawling with their people. Orders?"
Keerati' s jaw tightened. His eyes flicked toward Reya, not like before, not ordinary. Then he gave a curt order:
"Fine. Take the others home. But he gets tested first."
He turned, lifted his pen in a small beckoning gesture.
"You. Reya. With me."
The others were dragged off. Reya' s entourage quickly vanished. He alone followed Keerati, stumbling along, suddenly far less drunk—more like a dog trailing its master, grinning with fever-bright eyes at the sight of that narrow waist in front of him.
The bathroom door slammed shut.
Thud!
Keerati' s back hit the tiled wall as Reya lunged, pinning him there, his hands gripping hard, his body pressing close.
The air between them ignited—alcohol, anger, longing, all combusting in a single reckless act.
Lips crashed. Tongues collided. Heat poured out like fire.
"Mmhh—" Keerati' s muffled protest broke against Reya' s desperate kiss, every push demanding, every drag of his tongue burning with the ache of months spent apart. Teeth bit until lips split, metallic tang bleeding into the taste of whiskey.
Strong hands tried to shove him back. But Reya clung tighter.
"Reya—stop, that' s enough—" Keerati' s voice cracked, breath ragged, though his strength faltered under the onslaught.
"I missed you," Reya gasped between frantic kisses, voice hoarse, breaking, eyes glistening. "God, I missed you so fucking bad…"
"Let go. I' m working—" Keerati grit his teeth, struggling.
"You hate me, right? For lying about who I was? You hate me?" Reya pressed his forehead against the officer' s, voice shaking, pleading.
"Enough." Keerati' s low growl tried to stay firm. "…Outside. We' ll talk after."
"Where?" Reya' s voice cracked with desperate hope. "Tell me where!"
"…My condo," Keerati breathed at last.
That was all it took.
A smile split Reya' s swollen lips, wild and relieved, as if he' d just been promised salvation.
"I' ll come. I' ll come to you."