Adrien's Mate

Playing with Strangers

Seth

This is nice, this is so damn nice, I think as I lay in my hot tub, enjoying life to the fullest. The water is almost scorching hot, there is a crisp bottle of beer next to me, and I am blissfully relaxed with my head rolled back, and my muscles finally letting go of the tension. It is late afternoon and I don’t have to be anywhere anytime soon and no one is expecting me to do anything for them. Pure bliss.

I let my thoughts roam freely in my head and boy, do they. I am thinking of a nice warm dinner and what I will watch tonight - probably Supernatural for the fifth time in a row but can you blame me? Too many hot dudes in one series to miss, and who cares if they got it all wrong about my kind?

As time ticks by and the water is starting to get cold, the thought of Adrien Valentine pops into my head. The audacity of this prick, am I right? Still, I can’t ignore how I did like his velvety voice - not too deep, not too thin, just the right amount of c*ocky and hot, enough to bring my blood to boiling again.

I don’t focus on the things he said, I focus on the way he said them. Like how his voice dropped to a low husk as I denied him, or how his disbelief in my insolence made him all hot and bothered, and annoyed - like a guy who’s used to getting everything he wants and having no idea what to do with the fact that for once, it would not go his way.

The longer I think about him, the curious I get. I don’t have anything better to anyway at the moment, so I reach for my phone and do a little digging. Unfortunately, the guy is not on social media - smart for him, sad for me. The internet does not provide me with any visuals of him either, like is he even real? Did he give me his real name?

It’s been almost an hour when I reluctantly get out of the bath, splashing water all over the place. For a few seconds I contemplate leaving it there on the floor as I really lack the energy to deal with it right now, but then that’s not really me. I hate messes. I turn around and mop the floor, and then I clean the bath tub too because it makes me irritable knowing something is not properly fixed around my motor home. I just get grumpy and all and I don’t want to be grumpy on the first night of my week off.

Half an hour later the bath is back to its shiny glory and there is hardly any sign I was there at all, and I am headed to the living room with my phone in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. The nagging thought at the back of my mind that I do need to know what Adrien Valentine looks like has not left my stubborn brain and I am really, really curious about all that. Like the good boy I am not, I try to ignore it as I turn the tv on and try to focus on the show instead while I munch on my chips. Unfortunately fictional hot dudes on tv can keep my attention this much and just an episode in and I am back on fixating on Adrien Valentine.

I turn the TV off, frustrated and annoyed with myself. What the hell is wrong with me? I am not one to care this much about strangers and it’s not like I can’t get me a hot piece of a*ss the moment I go out. I may appear intimidating but there are quite a lot of people who find that hot about me, so why am I so focused on a stranger who might not even be into guys? But damn it if I am not curious as f*uck.

I grab my phone again and do some digging while the TV is still on as serves as a background noice which actually helps me to focus a bit more. This time as I search the guy’s name some results do popup - some local article about young and successful men under thirty in Redwind area. The picture that appears of the young and successful architect Adrien Valentine, 27, single, is definitely not what I expected. Well, honestly, I am not sure what I expected exactly but I don’t think that’s it. The guy seems tall, not as tall as me, but still taller than average. The expensive grey suit he’s wearing (three piece of course) is fitting him like a glove, complementing every part of his strong lean body. A body I suddenly am eager to explore, eager to find out what’s hiding under the clothes. But it’s his face that’s got me glued to the screen. Now, that’s a face you don’t forget easily. That’s a face you dream about when you dream about the hottest person you’ve ever seen. High cheekbones and rosy cheeks, a pointed chin and such pale blue eyes they seem like the they are not real, like I am looking at diamonds. God, that guy is too hot to handle, alright? And yeah, I realise this picture is polished for the magazine and all but if he’s even a quarter as hot as that picture then…

A hot piece of a*ss has always been able to completely make me forget how much the owner of said a*ss irritates me. My prick stirs with attention as I study the picture and I am not sure I’m half mad about it. Still, I am not reaching down to take care of business, not right away at least.

There is a part of me that is curious to see if he looks like this right now, when there is no photographers around him and he’s ready to go to sleep, or go out, or whatever it is that Adrien Valentine does on a regular night in the middle of the hottest summer we’ve had in years. There are no logical thoughts in my head as I open my texts and type a quick message.

Me: I figured out my price

Valentine doesn’t see my text for a long five minutes, five minutes in which I pretend I don’t care if he responds or not. My attention is back on the TV and whatever the hell is going on in the show which is always too much for a single episode and hard to follow at times. It provides the needed distraction at least, so I am not glued to the phone and can pretend it doesn’t matter whether Valentine responds or not. It should not matter yet, here I am, my heart speeding in my chest when the screen lights up.

Adrien V.: How much?

A naughty smile appears on my lips. I don’t even feel guilty when I type my response, after all he’s the one who proposed to pay me. So, let him pay.

Me: Not how. What.

Adrien V.: Ok. What do you want?

My lips curl into a cruel smile.

Me: A picture. Of you.

He types back fast. Then deletes it before hitting the send button. And types again. Deletes again. The smile does not leave my face as my heart speeds up in my chest. For some reason I am really, really invested in this little game. Probably I should be feeling guilty for what I am doing, for trading a visit to my dying mother for some nudes from her boyfriend but hey, I am not a decent guy and she’s not a mother of the year anyway, so…

The response finally comes true and I am smiling even more.

Adrien V.: Are you for real?

Me: Take it or leave it, lover boy.

Radio silence after my last text. I guess he chickened out and it’s not like he’s to be blamed about it. Normal people can’t deal with my s*hit on a daily basis, they just give up and pretend they never met me. That’s the reason I have never had a proper relationship with anyone ever, and why I prefer to be alone most of the time. I know I can be too much and most of the time I am my own worst enemy but also I am not someone to hold back just to fit into someone’s little box of perceptions about me.

It is really surprising when a new text comes through a few minutes later. The picture is clear enough but it is visible it is random. The guy is sitting in some darkened room, wearing a white a t-shirt on, his dark hair tousled and there is a pencil, tucked behind his ear. His eyes are not light in color, not in the slightest - dark blue-grey is more like it. Nonetheless, they are mesmerising even like this. The color makes him seem more mature, more like a real person than an unreachable model from the cover of a magazine.

The guy looks annoyed though. Those high cheeks of his are flushed and there is a scowl on his face that makes something stir deep in my chest. Like, he is angry, with a reason, yet I can’t stop looking at him, and I can’t stop wanting more of him. The fact I am so utterly invested in a stranger all of a sudden should be alarming like this has never happened before, yet I am not thinking about the dangers of my little three-hour-long obsession. Not at all.

Adrien M.: Happy? Now, when should we expect you?

Oh, yeah. I was supposed to visit Sarah in exchange for the picture. It’s not like he is going to get off the hook this easily though.

Me: Come on, lover boy, be more creative. My time is precious and you want me to travel half the country for this.

Adrien V.: What the f*uck is this supposed to mean?

Me: Send nudes, dude.

I can feel him cursing me right now, that’s what his new silence is all about. It’s fine, it’s more than deserved. But. But I can’t wait for him to crack and he will, he has to. For my sake. For the fact that this is the first night in ages, I feel real excitement about anything. Damn, I am old.

Adrien V.: are you for real now?

Me: oh, I am for very real. You can have me there by tomorrow night, or not have me at all. It’s up to you.