Adrian didn't slow down.
He cut through the club's back corridor and into the garage, fingers locked around Ryan's wrist like that was the only thing anchoring him to the ground. The door swung shut behind them, muting the music to a dull, distant throb.
The garage smelled like oil, metal, and something faintly damp.
At that moment, deja vu hit him the second they stepped inside.
Same place. Same pull. Same wide space swallowing the noise of the outside world. But the feeling was different. Completely different.
That night, his actions were out of curiosity. And mild irritation at Ryan's persistent disturbance. A detached interest he could afford to indulge.
Now his jaw was tight. His grip was tighter.
He didn't like how fast the anger had risen in him. Didn't like how sharp it felt, how sudden. He couldn't even trace it to a clean reason, and that bothered him more than the emotion itself.
All he knew was that he hadn't wanted Ryan there anymore. Hadn't wanted him laughing, leaning, slurring words into that redhead's shoulder. And he definitely hadn't wanted anyone else touching him either.
The thought only soured his mood further.
Ryan stumbled halfway down the garage, shoes scuffing against the concrete. Adrian caught him automatically, hand shooting out to steady him before he could pitch forward.
"For fuck's sake," Adrian muttered.
Ryan blinked up at him, unfocused and lazy.
"Oh… It's Adrian. Hehe," he said, breaking into a vague smile. "I must be dreaming. There's no way Adrian would be here, holding my hand."
Adrian said nothing and kept moving.
The garage stretched longer than it had any right to, rows upon rows of parked cars lined up like silent witnesses. Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm chirped and died.
Ryan tripped again.
Adrian stopped abruptly, grip tightening as he pulled Ryan upright. "How much did you drink to be this drunk?" Adrian snapped. "And where the hell is my car parked?"
Ryan squinted, as if the answer might be written on the ceiling. Then, lifted his fingers, counting poorly. "One… two… four… six…" He frowned. "I don't know. I lost count."
"You lost count?" Adrian repeated in a scoffing tone.
"Mm," Ryan nodded, entirely unhelpful. "It was orange. And it tasted really, really good."
Adrian closed his eyes for half a second. "Ha. Of course it did."
The walk continued with Ryan following easily enough, almost obediently, though his steps were uneven and his weight leaned more into Adrian with every few meters.
He didn't remember deciding to take the Viper. Dylan had shoved the idea at him earlier, insisting it fit the night better, insisting he needed to stop driving like a man twice his age.
Now the red gleam of it caught his eye from halfway down the row.
Finally.
The valet had parked it crooked, the nose slightly angled like it had been impatient to leave. How typical of them.
Adrian stopped beside it, releasing Ryan's wrist to unlock the door, but the second the contact broke, Ryan swayed.
Adrian swore under his breath but didn't catch him this time. He was tired of doing that.
Ryan hit the floor hard. Hard enough to snap most people back into reality. But Ryan just lay there, sprawled on the cold concrete, smiling dreamily, sheepishly, like the world was still soft around the edges.
Adrian opened the passenger door, walked back to him, yanked him up, and dropped him into the seat.
"Why are you putting me in your car?" Ryan mumbled as Adrian slid into the driver's seat.
Adrian leaned over to buckle his seatbelt.
They were close. Too close. Bodies nearly touching, close enough to hear each other's breath. Even through the haze of alcohol, Ryan felt it. The tension from the proximity made his skin prickly, and his heartbeat began to pick up without permission.
Adrian's gaze fell. Lingering. His eyes caught on Ryan's plump, rosy lips. "Why do you think I'm doing this?" Adrian murmured, watching for his reaction.
Ryan said nothing. His eyes slid shut, his body going still, like he was bracing for something he didn't know how to name.
"You're drunk," Adrian said calmly, "and I'm taking care of a drunk junior. Like a good student should."
He smirked and pulled back into his seat.
The vibration of the engine roaring to life jolted Ryan back into reality. His eyes flickered toward Adrian as the car eased out of the garage.
"I know this is a dream," he sniffed, swallowing hard, "but I'm just going to say this anyway."
He paused, then kept going, words tumbling out unevenly.
"You're such a jerk. Showing up in my dream but won't even say anything to me in real life. Why give me so much hope and promises only to..." he shook his head weakly, "no, you didn't even break them. You gave me no closure. And that's worse. You just left me waiting and losing my mind over it."
His voice wavered, thinning as fatigue crept in.
"I already told you how messed up my situation was, so why add to it? Why treat me like I don't exist?" He sniffed again, eyelids drooping. "So… yeah. I hope you tell your real self he's a big-time jerk."
Adrian listened the entire drive. He didn't interrupt and didn't respond, but every now and then, a faint curve with a naughtiness touched his lips before disappearing just as quickly.
Ryan's voice eventually trailed off.
When Adrian glanced over, Ryan was already asleep, head tipped slightly toward the window, breathing slow and even.
Adrian ran a hand through his hair and kept driving, the road stretching quietly ahead.
By the time Adrian pulled into his high-rise apartment, the sky was already bleeding into dawn. He packed his things carefully—not because he didn't want to wake the sleeping figure in his car, but because he didn't want to scratch the car. Parking wasn't exactly his strong suit.
He got out, went around to the passenger side, and after a bit of a struggle, hoisted Ryan onto his back. Piggybacking him through the elevator, down the corridor, and into his apartment wasn't exactly graceful, but it got the job done.
Only once Ryan was finally dropped onto the couch did Adrian pause to question why he'd brought him all the way to his apartment. He had dragged him out of the club because the redhead had gotten under his skin. He knew he was an asshole, but leaving Ryan drunk in a garage wasn't something he could allow. He shook his head at the thought of the scenarios that might've unfolded. Though the shaking of his head wasn't directed at Ryan's safety—at least, not entirely—it was the unease that made his stomach twist.
He stepped into the kitchen for a glass of water, took a slow sip, and returned to the living room. He sat down on the couch opposite Ryan, sipping slowly, eyes fixed on him as if studying him, thinking of what to do, while simultaneously watching every single movement Ryan made.
Ryan shifted, grumbling softly, scratching at his arms and shoulders. His hands drifted to his clothes, tugging at them as though suffocating and trying to rip them off. "It's so hot," he mumbled, his words thick and dreamlike. Sleep talking. His clothes were tight, resisting his fumbling attempts to remove them.
Adrian watched closely. "Do you need my help?" he asked, striding toward Ryan, eyes fixed on him.
"Mm," Ryan murmured, barely coherent.
Adrian moved onto the couch, knees braced, hands supporting him so he didn't topple onto Ryan. His gaze roamed over him, starting at his face and lingering over the thin, exposed waist.
He has a really thin waist, he thought with a smirk of satisfaction. He hadn't noticed it the other night at his apartment—maybe because the moment had ended quickly, and Ryan's shirt had been loose
His hands traced Ryan's waist, moving slowly upward as he removed the piece of clothing separating them. The touch was deliberate, measured, and a faint moan escaped Ryan's lips.
Adrian leaned closer, nibbling at Ryan's ear. Another soft moan followed.
"For someone sleeping, you seem to be enjoying this," he whispered, the edge of a sneer in his voice. "Oh, right—you already said it was a dream." He let out a low laugh, remembering Ryan's earlier ramble in the car.
Adrian's fingers lingered on Ryan's bare skin, tracing the smooth line of his ribs as he peeled the shirt fully away and flung it into a corner of the room. Ryan's chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his nipples hardening in the cool air of the apartment. Adrian's smirk deepened, his thumb brushing over one of those peaks, eliciting a shiver from the frame before him.
"Dream or not, you're responding so well," Adrian murmured, his voice low and teasing. He steadied himself on the cushion, shifting Ryan's legs wider. His free hand slid down to the waistband of Ryan's pants, fingers hooking into the fabric. He tugged gently, watching Ryan's face for any sign of wakefulness, smiling at the small but firm bulge he felt below.
Ryan's eyes fluttered but didn't open, his lips parting in a soft whimper as the pants loosened. Instinctively, his body arched toward Adrian's touch. The vulnerability in that movement stirred something predatory in Adrian, mingling with the heat building in his own core. In a rush, he pulled off his shirt, nearly ripping it in the process.
Adrian began to work the pants down Ryan's thighs, exposing pale skin inch by inch. Ryan's legs kicked weakly, helping without realizing it, until the fabric pooled at his ankles. Adrian kicked it aside, his gaze dropping to the thin black briefs clinging to Ryan's hips. The now-visible bulge strained against the material, and Adrian's cock twitched in response, hardening behind his own zipper.
He leaned in again, lips grazing Ryan's neck this time, sucking lightly at the pulse point before moving gradually to Ryan's soft lips. He sucked there longer, and when he finally pulled away, they were plumper and redder. He kissed him again, shorter this time, before his lips returned to Ryan's neck and trailed down to his nipples. While teasing them with his mouth, his fingers ventured lower, dipping slowly into Ryan's briefs.
And just beside the couch, among the clothes tossed on the floor, a phone rang—making Adrian pause midway.