Time Frame: December 15, 2034 Location: Michael's Apartment / Streets of Lower East Side Manhattan Status: Prologue/Solo
Trey, seated on the edge of the bed, turns his head to look at Michael.
Enchanting eyes meet his gaze. White teeth form a grin, cutting into the darkness like an ivory knife. Trey gets lost in the marvelous angles of that face. Staring at Michael is like staring into the sun; so radiant it makes his eyes sting. (This guy...) He glances off, blood rushing to his cheeks.
"Want some breakfast?"
"You're gonna make me breakfast?" Trey chuckles softly, pulling on his jeans.
"Yes, you handsome fool." The other man, gloriously nude beneath the sheets, props up on his elbows. "Breakfast. Eggs. Bacon. Some of that fancy salsa from the Farmer's Market."
Trey zips his pants and casts a glance over his shoulder: "I thought we finished the salsa."
"We'll get some more."
"I don't want to burden you." He breaks eye contact once again, scanning the hardwood floors for his wool socks. "Just sleep in."
Although he's not looking at Michael, he can feel Michael looking at him. Admiring the back of his head. Wanting to kiss the back of his head. Half-afraid all he'll see is the back of his head. Trey closes his eyes. This is their pattern. Michael pushes. Trey pulls away. Michael grows quiet. Trey turns on the charm and crawls back. Unfortunately, this pattern feels tired.
Trey digs into the sheets with his nails. (What do you want from me?) What does Michael even feel when they make love fool around? The men sit in the quiet of their thoughts. A silence that crackles, dangerously thin, like the face of a frozen lake.
He opens his mouth to speak; however, he quickly clamps his mouth shut. Usually, Trey relents and gives in to Michael's affections. But today is different. Today is a work day.
And he'll be damned if he sacrifices work.
"Fine." He can taste the surrender in Michael's words. Trey pauses, hating how much it hurts.
Time Frame: December 15, 2034 Location: Streets of Lower East Side Manhattan Status: Private (tag: Sebastian Luna)
Clad in a heavy jacket and snow boots, Trey peels a glove off with his teeth. Winter air clutches his bare fingers. Trey grimaces. It's brutally cold outside. But he's almost done canvassing. There's a moment of down time.
He draws his phone from his pocket. Stares into the screen. Begins typing:
"Breakfast would be really--"
Insecurity, dark and loud, creeps into his mind. (You really did it this time.) Michael hasn't reached out to him for half the day. Generally, he and the other man always check in with each other. Trey's thumb hovers over his phone's keyboard. Did he upset Michael?
Are they not talking?
He stands on the corner of Lexington and Fifth Avenue, oblivious to everything around him. Trey catches sight of a happy couple, holding hands, through the corner of his eye. Wind kicks his scarf into his face. Great. Even Mother Nature is shitting on him today. Frustrated, he tears the scarf off his face.
(Fuck this mood. I'm not Drake.)
He stands at his full height. Trey is going to pour himself into work and forget about Michael. That's right. He's going to get fifty more signatures and have a super late breakfast alone. Eggs. Bacon. Plenty of salsa. The best part? He won't have to share anything on his plate.
Sensing movement over his shoulder, Trey plasters on his best smile and turns around:
"Good afternoon." He slides his phone back into his pocket, giving the stranger his full attention. "I'm canvassing for Monica Olson's campaign for City Council. Can I have a moment of your time?"
Fresh out of university, Sebastian jumped at the chance to explore the world. After all, Madrid is boring to a man who can peer across realms. He seeks adventure, thrills and scandal. Luckily for him, people will pay a pretty penny to be reunited with their dearly departed loved ones. A few seances later (and a smashed mirror or two), Bastian had enough money to explore. He packed his bags and jumped on a plane across the ocean - to the United States of America.
New York is his first port of call. Attracted to the hustle and bustle of the city, he eagerly checked into his overpriced dive of a hotel room and set out. Unfortunately, Sebastian being Sebastian - in his haste to escape, he did not think to pack anything remotely suitable for winter in New York. Accustomed to the warmth of Spain, snowy streets and subzero temperatures are a painful wakeup call for the young medium.
(Shit it’s cold) Dressed in jeans, a white tee and a light jacket, Bastian weaves between the streets and stores with a chilled agitation. Yet he still takes the time to get the perfect Instagram of the frost-ridden city, and a selfie (or 100) against various NYC backdrops. (I need to get a proper jacket. Or a drink.) He sighs, winding through a crowd of businessmen. (Or a man.) Bastian smirks, pondering which remedy to the winter chill he’d prefer.
"Good afternoon. I'm canvassing for Monica Olson's campaign for City Council. Can I have a moment of your time?"
The medium is caught off guard by a voice calling out beside him. Seb looks to his right, tracing the summons to a man draped in winter attire. (That’s what I should be wearing.) His dark eyes soak in Trey’s appearance. And he likes what he sees. (Politics though? Really?)
“You could have more than just a moment.” Sebastian jokes with an undercurrent of flirtation. “But I’m not American I’m afraid.” His Spanish drawl hangs from his words. Standing still, he shivers slightly before gesturing to the clipboard in the man’s hands. “However, best of luck to Monica.” (I need to get inside.)
Trey holds his smile. (Is that accent for real?) A born New Yorker, he's avoided plenty of characters in these streets. Junkies with crooked grins. Con artists draped in heavy cologne. Sex workers who suck their teeth and mutter things like, "Bitch -- ain't nobody clamoring for your crumpled dollars." The teacher, subconsciously, waits for strangers to prove they're sane. But Sebastian can be certifiably nuts and still sign the petition.
“But I’m not American I’m afraid.”
"Not American..." Trey echoes, a little bummed. (Oh well.) Dark eyes begin to causally search for the next person on the street.
“However, best of luck to Monica.”
He glances back at Sebastian. (Sorta resembles Michael...) A pang of resentment fills his gut. Trey feels the dead weight of a phone in his pocket. Did Michael reach out to him? Probably not. Whatever. Trey turns his body toward Sebastian. This interaction just got upgraded into a distraction. A charismatic grin slips onto his face. Effortless Spanish pours from his mouth:
<"Thanks, friend. She's a great candidate.">
After a moment, Trey shrugs his shoulders. "I grew up in a Spanish-speaking neighborhood. You either learned the language or got judged." He winks at Sebastian. Without being asked, he holds his clipboard in the crock of his arm and fishes into his bag. Seconds later Trey draws an extra pair of gloves from his nap sack. "It's ridiculously cold in these streets."
Sebastian grins from ear to ear as spanish falls effortlessly from Trey’s lips. He did not expect that. The medium draws a hand through his dark hair and observes the man with beguilement. For a chance encounter, the man is certainly very charming.
<”I’m impressed. It’s a big commitment to learn another language.”> Bastian retorts in his mother tongue. His eyes trace Trey’s movements, following as he digs into his bag and retrieves a pair of gloves. To his surprise, they’re for him. Seb pauses for a moment, startled by the random act of kindness. He didn’t expect so much from a stranger.
“Oh, thank you.” Bastian exclaims. He reaches over and grasps the gloves before quickly rolling them onto his hands. He instantly appreciates the warmth they bring, banishing the frosty chill that seconds before burned his fingertips. “Really, that’s very kind of you.”
“I’m here travelling, but as you can see- “ He gestures towards his casual attire, more suited for Spring than the dead of Winter. “I was in such a rush to get away after graduation, I didn’t exactly pack for the weather.” Seb offers Trey a culpable look, although a hint of glee flickers in his eyes. “I was actually going to get a drink to warm up. Nothing like a beer blanket to chase away the cold.” (Although I could think of a few things I could do with you that would…) He nods towards a bar just a little down the street. “Let me buy you a drink to thank you for the gloves?”
"No worries." Trey flashes a lop-sided grin. "I got you."
“I’m here travelling, but as you can see- “
Trey follows the sweep of Sebastian's arm. The stranger's certainly not dressed for New York City. Humid summers and brutal winters are par the course of this concrete jungle. Clearly Sebastian came prepared for the former not the ladder. Poor guy.
“I was in such a rush to get away after graduation, I didn’t exactly pack for the weather.”
For a moment, he gets a lost in the stranger's enchanting gaze. A curious smile skirts his mouth. (Bedroom eyes?) Trey recognizes the vibe Sebastian is putting out; it's like cartoon smoke forming into a crooked finger, tantalizing and daring him to step into the kitchen. Skin warms underneath his heavy jacket. He can imagine what this man wants to do—
His cell phone buzzes with a message.
Trey licks his lips, breaking eye contact. (Michael...) Guilt twists his stomach.
“I was actually going to get a drink to warm up. Nothing like a beer blanket to chase away the cold.”
He laughs low in his throat. "Were you?" The future whitelighter observes Sebastian through lowered lashes. Trey can feel the invitation coming; still, he wants to see Sebastian make it...
“Let me buy you a drink to thank you for the gloves?”
"I don't know..." Trey laughs again, a bit nervous. His eyes look anywhere but at Sebastian. Finally, he reconnects with Sebastian's dark eyes and shakes his head.
"Two beautiful men sitting down for a drink? Getting close..." He breathes the last words, fleeting lust in his glare. "Sounds like trouble in the afternoon."
Sebastian’s dark eyes stay locked on Trey. The medium can read him like a book. Trey’s conflicted. He wants to, but something is stopping him - Seb can see that in the mortal’s eyes. In the way the man attempts to look anywhere but at him. But this doesn’t deter Bastian. No, if anything it entices him.
"Two beautiful men sitting down for a drink? Getting close..."
(Oh yeah?) Sebastian raises a brow inquisitively. (He wants me.) He catches the lustful glimmer in his acquaintance's eyes and returns it with a look of his own.
"Sounds like trouble in the afternoon. Can't afford trouble when I've got work."
“Life’s no fun without a bit of trouble.” Seb teases with a daring drawl. “How many more do you need?” Bastian launches himself close to Trey, eyes peering down at the clipboard in the man’s hand.
“I bet I could get more signatures in the bar in fifteen minutes, than you have out here in the last hour.” His eyes meet Trey’s, challenging him with an impish glee. He’s close enough to smell the man’s cologne, breathing it deep into his lungs. (I always get my way sooner or later.)
Trey steals a look at Sebastian's pearly teeth. That smile, that accent, it's almost enough for him to abandon his post entirely. Christ knows it's hard to get citizens to stop for ten seconds in this district. Most people are checking their smart phones and avoiding eye contact. The others just roll their eyes, muttering expletives about where he can stick his clipboard.
He loves this city.
But his morning with Michael still lingers in his brain, begging to be unpacked. He inhales; that's not something he's prepared to think about. Regardless of how much he wants to check his phone, Trey doesn't want to seem weak or needy. Michael can wait. And, perhaps, canvassing can wait...
“I bet I could get more signatures in the bar in fifteen minutes, than you have out here in the last hour.”
The stranger meets Trey's eyes. Trey smiles at him. (What a prick. He knows how sexy he is.) A small part of him wants Sebastian to work for it. To scramble, losing some of that breezy charm, to get his attention. Trey doesn't consider himself easy. Nonetheless, he's feeling a little...
"Okay," he says. "Just one drink." Trey unzips his bag and puts the clipboard inside of it. "Unless, you charm me into staying with that incredible accent..." Eyes dancing, he grins at Sebastian and gestures to the nearest bar. A quiet little haunt with craft beers. He's gone there a few times for a quick afternoon lunch and some reading. It's nice.
Sebastian’s dark eyes remain fixed upon Trey as the man battles internally. The American’s hesitation only makes Seb want him more. (Don’t be a bore...) Bastian flashes Trey a sultry smile, willing his companion to take him up on the offer. To his delight, he does.
"Okay, just one drink."
(That’s what you say now)
"Unless, you charm me into staying with that incredible accent..."
(It’s a done deal...)
A devilish glint flickers in Bastian’s eyes, followed by a smirk stretching ear to ear. He likes where he thinks this night is going. “I’d promise not to be a bad influence,” Seb sends a wink in Trey’s direction. “But that’d be a lie.”
With Trey in tow, Sebastian glides down the street in the direction of the bar his companion indicated to. It’s nothing fancy, but nice enough. Not that the medium’s picky. Anywhere that serves beer and has tequila is good in Bastian’s books. Opening the door, he guides Trey into the bar ahead of him - stealing a touch of the man’s lower back as he shuffles him through the door.
“So, do you have a name?” Sebastian grins, gesturing for them to head towards a booth. “I’m Sebastian.”
Trey plucks off his scarf, grinning at the chalk drawn sign on the bar counter.
(Word? It's still happy hour?)
He locks eyes with the bartender — a stern-looking Puerto Rican woman — and begins to order a drink when Sebastian speaks in his ear. All right, "speak "is an understatement. It's more like a whisper. Trey leers at the other man through lowered lashes.
“So, do you have a name?”
"Doesn't everyone have a name?" Trey challenges, a bit playful and combative.
"Trey." He moves over to the booth Sebastian pointed out. Sliding into a seat, he shrugs out of his jacket. He drinks in the other man with a gaze.
Trey smiles again. Warm, engaged.
"Where are you traveling from? Anywhere interesting?"
(ooh, feisty.) Sebastian's dark eyes narrow. A slick grin cuts across his lips, affirming the salacious thoughts running through the dark medium's mind. (I like that.)
(Trey. How American.) The Spaniard licks his bottom lip as he settles into the booth. He looks around and absorbs the atmosphere of the bar. It still doesn't feel real that he's here. Seb was on a plane less than four hours ago. And now he's having drinks in a swanky bar, with a handsome stranger. If this sets the tone of his time in the USA, then Sebastian will die a happy man.
"Isn't everyone from somewhere interesting?"
Bastian mirrors Trey's earlier words with a playful tone. He edges closer to the man in the booth, closing the distance so that their legs touch.
"I'm from Madrid, Spain." He grins. Bastian is proud of his home. It's beautiful. The people are passionate. And the lifestyle is amazing. "Have you been?"
However it still wasn't enough to quench Sebastian's restless spirit. He wants more. He's always wanted more. And that's what brings him to the other side of the world.
Trey shakes his head. "Ever met a person from Staten Island?" When Sebastian edges closer to him, he bores into his penetrating eyes. There are moments, often small, which indicate someone wants you as much as you want them. This is one of those moments. Yet, Trey sees Michael in the back of his head. Again and again.
Beautiful, sensitive Michael...
"I'm from Madrid, Spain. Have you been?"
"I'm a doctorate candidate obsessed with his work, so..." He grins coyly. "Not yet."
"What about you? Are you from New York yourself?"
"Born and raised," he says without hesitation. "My mother was the L train." Trey connects with Sebastian's eyes and feels blood rush to his face. (What am I doing?) Laughing, he peels his eyes away. "Look...
"I want to be as transparent as possible." A beat. "You're really sexy, but I'm kinda seeing someone right now." Although Trey says this, he doesn't move his leg away. He remains still, hating how curious he is to see what Sebastian will do. (How far am I comfortable taking this?)
Sebastian isn't impressed. Hard work doesn't get him going. A strong mind doesn't get him going. Trey's devilish good looks however, well that's a different story… (Not yet? If you think there's a future where I'm taking you home to momma you're mistaken.)
"A true New Yorker." The dark medium moves a hand onto his companion's knee. His eyes sparkle with seduction and his mouth edges closer. "Who better to show me what the city" (and you) "has to offer."
"I want to be as transparent as possible. You're really sexy,"
(You can say that again.) "but I'm kinda seeing someone right now."
Sebastian doesn't even blink. Trey's words might protest, but the man's entire body language says differently. Trey's leg still presses against his own. He wants this as much as Seb does.
"Kinda hmm?" The dark medium takes a sip of his drink. An impish glee dances across his face. "I can work with kinda."
(I always get what I want….)
"We're not doing anything wrong." The lie comes out soft and sweet. "We're just having a drink, aren't we?" Sebastian looks the future whitelighter in the eye. They might just be having a drink now, but he knows exactly what he wants to happen after.
Trey smirks. (Boy...) His scruples and hormones are duking it out; nonetheless, he reads Sebastian like a book. He knows he's being seduced. Still, despite seeing through him, Trey enjoys him. He enjoys the sexy curl of the other man's mouth. He enjoys his little accent. He enjoys the feel of his hand on his leg.
His eyes flicker around the bar, suddenly self-conscious. It feels like people are watching him; judging him for giving in so easily...
"We're just having a drink, aren't we?"
"Really?" Trey's hand moves on top of Sebastian's knuckles. He draws circles into the back of his hand with his thumb. "So...
"There's no harm in saying I live five blocks away?"
Sebastian sees that Trey is torn. He can sense the internal struggle within the future whitelighter - his urge to pull away. But Trey doesn't. He stays snug beside Sebastian, legs touching, eyes locking, smiles drawing sharper and sharper.
The dark thought flutters through Bastian's mind. He's played this game a thousand times. Men come and go. Some are smart, like Trey. Some are dumb, like many of his exes. But all of them are just putty for the medium to play with.
(This is a done deal.)
Trey touches Sebastian's hand. It sends a shiver down the dark medium's spine. His smile grows wide and devilish. He thinks nothing of Trey's boyfriend, or the consequences of what he's about to do. Seb is young, free and ready to make bad life decisions.
"Five blocks? That far?" A fake pout strikes his lips. "I suppose I could manage." An impish glint flickers in his eyes. His leg presses deeper into Trey's. Bastian is raring to go.
hey! i'm merc. i'm twenty and i live in the united states. i love cats, harry potter, doctor who, and playing minecraft! the best way to contact me (if you can't reach me through here) is on my tumblr which you can find linked above!