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Cold Hearts and Cyber Parts. [ blue ... 666 ]

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666.fps

ʙᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ
Joined
May 31, 2021
Jadiel doesn't even drink.

He's staring at whatever the bartender gave him, some virgin blue Hawaiian or whatever they said. He just wanted something blue and syrupy. He probably would have tried the bottle of curacao if they'd offered it to him. For now, he's on the shores of tropical Hawaii, spacing out at the condensation forming on the glass and trying to remember what he was supposed to continue today. He's got three projects going on right now; finish tuning the voice box for Sarah, actually start the heart engine for the guy with the mustache, and realign the joints in the bionic ankle for his sister's girlfriend's whatever. Jadiel can't remember which deadline is soonest and who even contacted him first. Messing around with a black market technician isn't always the smartest move in the first place, but it would be better not to rush them either. He knows he has time. Jadiel transferred into black dealings when he realized the government wouldn't pay him as much; nor would any shop in the city. He could move, find a way to make more money, but sometimes the sob stories pull on his heart strings. He's fixed enough baby hearts to hang around at least a little bit longer while his luck is following him. Jadiel has a shop, has ways to contact him, but he keeps himself about as private as he can get. The vast majority of his clients don't even know what he looks like, and he'd like to keep it that way. Oddly enough for a cyber technician, Jadiel doesn't have any alterations to himself. Thought about making himself taller, making his cock bigger; but those thoughts were fleeting. It's out of place these days for folks not to have anything enhanced. Jadiel's gotten enough confused elevator looks to have figured that one out. Perhaps if he gets in a freak train accident and loses a leg, he'll consider it more seriously. All the power in the city, the planet comes from the technology that Jadiel has been studying since he was still in diapers. The neon lights and pumping electronics, the energy that buzzes and floats in and out of people faster than they can even comprehend. Maybe that's part of why he enjoys it, the feeling that he has some kind of mastery over the heart beat of the planet. Or it's the money; that can buy weed.

Thus, he's not afraid of going to the gay bar, even if it's kind of loud right now and not one is really catching his eye. He's been single for longer than he'd like to admit, but the potential for growing a callous on his hand is starting to irk him a little. Jadiel turns around in his stool, playing with the umbrella in his drink as he scans the patrons again. Maybe some of them could be cute for a night; Jadiel isn't really looking to let anyone stay the weekend with him. He knows he's not exactly pulling tons of numbers either, with his ripped jeans and grease-stained fingernails. Jadiel glances down at them now and curls his fingers into a fist, coughing like he could try to hide them. Maybe he should have washed himself up a little better before trying to find a date.

Scoffing at himself, Jadiel slips out of his stool and heads for the men's room, inching through the throng and keeping his head low. It strikes him then, some sort of embarrassed feeling, and Jadiel scowls as he makes his way into the bathroom, heading right for the sink.
"Pendejo." Jadiel cusses himself out. Asshole. His voice is accented but understandable, clear; it's common in the big city for people to be multilingual, and Jadiel is no different. Spanish was his first, English followed, and he kind of gave up on the dream of being a polyglot. Jadiel scrubs his hands with perhaps a hair too much vigor, watching the blackened water dribble down the sink with the suds. He motions to wipe his clean hands on his shirt, pauses, and grabs a paper towel like a mannered human being. Jadiel looks at himself in the mirror, adjusts the backwards hat that sits on his head. Would he hit on him? Would he be attracted to a dude like him in the bar?
Pretending to be confident, Jadiel bumps open the door of the bathroom and makes his way back to his perch, deciding that within the next five minutes, he's going to either talk to someone new or fuck off back home to his hands again.
 
Thorne's cybernetic arm is breaking down. He lost the original, the real arm, escaping from a drug bust five years ago. He's had this cyber arm attached and has moved cities. New city, new start. Intimidated several desperate street rats into pushing his own brand of aphrodisiac, called Nova, gathered followers, and now runs a successful and high-class drug cartel. He even has certain protections, having gotten a particularly influential buyer on the city council. But now this arm is breaking down, the neural connections keep shorting, and it causes Thorne no small amount of pain. Sure, he could take it off, but one arm missing isn't exactly an intimidating look. So he went digging, searching for some tech genius that could either fix his arm, or rebuild it.

And he found one: Jadiel. A black market tech engineer with enough of a reputation to catch Thorne's attention. Thorne spent three months with men following Jadiel around, gathering intel, finding his local haunts, even where he lives. Now, it's Thorne's turn to get Jadiel's attention. The only difference between Thorne and any other customer? Thorne doesn't intend to pay this man a dime. But if Jadiel behaves and does as he's told, he'll get to keep his life.

Tonight, the information he's given leads Thorne to a decently busy gay club. He pays the entrance fee, if only to avoid suspicion, and ducks his 6'4 frame through the doorway. He's here alone, so as not to scare Jadiel into running. He's dressed casually in a black button down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a pair of black jeans, and black high-end sneakers he'd stolen from some rich man's cart in a mall parking lot. Thorne walks to the bar, paying for a scotch. He stays there, leaned against the counter as he looks around the crowded club for the man he's here to kidnap.
 
It doesn't take five minutes. Maybe closer to ten seconds when Jadiel glances up and discovers that someone is standing right next to his perch. There's his drink, blue Hawaii. He's taller than hell, something Jadiel is privately intrigued by. Most people are taller than Jadiel, but he wagers that if they stood side by side, the top of Jadiel's head would barely reach the guy's shoulder. Internally, he's wolf whistling. He could be good, for a night.
"Hey." Jadiel's voice is level as he slides back into his seat, that lilting Spanish accent. He nods his head to Thorne but doesn't really offer much else. He fingers the stem of his drink, glancing over his shoulder and pretending to be interested in the dance floor. Jadiel thinks he can smell the dude's cologne. It's probably just the initial excitement talking. Someone new. Jadiel nurses the drink, hoping that the dye isn't going to stain his mouth. He's got a funny penchant for blue drinks; Slurpees, energy drinks, Gatorade. Never quite figured out why.

"You- You lookin' for someone?" Jadiel peeks over at Thorne where the man has been scanning the bar. Maybe he's doing what Jadiel is; looking for someone to bring home for the night. He opens up his stance, twisting in his seat and facing the dance floor. He leans back in his stool, feet on the rungs and legs spread, hand in his pocket; both lazy and inviting. One hand is twiddling with a loose thread on the flannel tied about his waist. He's the perfect picture of a punk, a good contrast to the man standing beside him. "I don't come here often, I don't really know like, anyone. But uhh, I mean, I've been here before, like- Like not a lot, but-" Jadiel pauses, his eyes rolling to the ceiling behind his glasses. "Everything I'm saying sounds shitty. Can we start over?" Jadiel spills out one of his defining personality traits; rambling. Maybe he has ADHD, or he's stoned right now. The scent of biomechanics is heavy on him, that electric, warm hum. He looks up to Thorne, tilting his head back a bit.
"Hi." Jadiel offers Thorne a smile that is, somehow, stupidly endearing. It's a bright thing, silly. He has full cheeks beneath the ghostly memory of his facial hair. One of his teeth is gold, either knocked out or replaced of his own volition. His incisor, there on the left. It glints in the low lights of the gay bar and matches the frames of his glasses.
 
It's just Thorne's luck that he'd leaned against the bar right next to his target's drink. Of course, he hadn't done anything to it, no point drugging a drink he doesn't know the owner of. But his grey eyes immediately lock onto the much shorter male walking up to sit on the barstool next to him. Thorne watches with increasing amusement as Jadiel rambles on, as though it's necessary to explain why he's here. Getting intel on the younger man and seeing him in person are two entirely different experiences. Thorne swirls his scotch, waiting for Jadiel to stop talking.

"Hello." Thorne's voice is deep and rich, with the faintest hint of an unknown accent. Thorne rests his left elbow on the bar, right hand - closer to Jadiel - lifting his drink to his lips. He takes a slow drink, watching Jadiel to see if he squirms in nervousness. Thorne's tongue drags across his lower lip. "My name is Thorne. I've never been here before. I don't frequent this part of the city, but decided I needed a change of scenery." Despite the loud music, it's very easy to hear Thorne's voice; it carries well over the noise.

Thorne needs Jadiel to let his guard down before he can do anything, and the best way to do that is to talk. Or at least, what small talk Thorne can make without giving away his intentions. Distraction, perhaps a dance, to get Jadiel comfortable in his presence. Then after a dance, he'd offer to buy the man a drink, making him wait away from the bar so Thorne can drug his drink. A small smile pulls up the corners of Thorne's lips at his thoughts, but it seems he's just smiling welcomingly at Jadiel.
 
Despite whatever might be rolling around in Jadiel's head, he doesn't seem to be nervous. He's fussing with the thread on his flannel in a way that speaks to the fact that he doesn't like to sit still. Jadiel's in a loud room surrounded by strangers, and now one of the attractive strangers has entered his bubble, but it doesn't have him on his toes yet. Not outwardly, at least. Mentally he's trying to figure out how to talk to this guy and give off the impression that he's a normal human who is capable of holding a normal conversation. Don't start talking about something stupid.

"Jadiel." He offers his own name up to Thorne, nodding his head politely. "I mean, it's fine over here? The whole city is kind of the same to me. It's the people that make it shitty or better, or even shittier." Jadiel shrugs. He wouldn't be a great tourist guide, that much is clear. He eyes Thorne's arm, trying to keep it brief. Custom built, lots of moving parts. Easily quite expensive, but it looks worth the money from a quick glance. The technician part of Jadiel kind of wants to scope it out. Asking someone to show off their cybers isn't uncommon, but Jadiel doesn't need to pry. He pulls his eyes away and rolls them back towards the ceiling as if in thought.

"I'm a few blocks down," Jadiel muses. While the area they are in isn't exactly the ritz, it isn't too much of a shithole. About as many drug and crime issues as anywhere else. Locals wouldn't know that there's a lot of black market dealing in these streets, but Thorne would. Jadiel has no idea, but it must have been too easy for Thorne to figure out where he was, with his connections and men. Jadiel has been a sitting duck for weeks.
"There's a killer Indian restaurant a block from here." Jadiel doesn't speak to bridge the gap or break the ice; he's just stating what is on his mind. He speaks almost like he already knows Thorne, casual. Trying to be casual, at least. "Uhh, cute bakery a little further South. Think it's next to a hookah bar? I dunno', I guess there's some stuff to see." He offers a funny chuckle, his gaze lowering back to the dance floor.
 
Thorne can tell Jadiel is trying to keep his attention, though the younger man wouldn't know that there's nobody else in this building more interesting to Thorne. He listens to Jadiel talk, even catches the glance to his cyber arm, which he flexes the hand of. Good to know Jadiel is intrigued, he's going to be spending a lot of time on that arm very soon. Thorne nods his head to show he's listening as Jadiel lists off some local eateries. He tilts his head at Jadiel's laugh and averted gaze, wondering if the younger man is embarrassed by his chatter.

"I'm not one for Indian cuisine, nor sweets. I do rather enjoy Japanese cooking, as well as Italian." Thorne tips his head back to down the remainder of his drink. He sets it on the counter, then appears to be about to say something. However, his left arm chooses that moment to glitch, elbow flexing so his wrist meets his shoulder. His fingers also curl into a fist. Thorne grunts, expression contorting into pain briefly. The moment passes quickly, and Thorne relaxes, shaking out his hand. The disadvantage to having a high tech arm is that when something in the arm shorts, or fails, so do the neural connections where it's attached to his shoulder. In addition, the sensors all down the arm, heat, cold, and pressure alike, all end up adding to the pain sent to the neural connections.

Thorne sighs, then smiles at Jadiel. He'd been hoping to make it through this evening without any glitches, but clearly the universe has other plans. The best Thorne can do is throw out a distraction. Looks like he'll be skipping the small talk. "Come dance with me." Thorne offers his right hand, warm palm up and inviting.
 
The glitch has Jadiel's brow furrowing. He's seen things like that thousands of times, short circuits and misaligned shots, but he never likes it. It hurts, this he knows very well despite the fact he has no alterations of his own. He's seen them bring grown, strong men to their sobbing knees. Maybe it's something else he likes about working on tech; it's healing. He knows he's saved well beings and lives, though he keeps that to himself. He's proud, but he doesn't want to have a big head. Doing good by someone else is all he really wants.
Maybe he could do good by Thorne. Plug into his arm and scope out what's wrong with him; fancy tech like that shouldn't have problems to begin with. State of the art builds should shut themselves down at the risk of a glitch rather than malfunction and harm the wearer. Perhaps it's shoddier than it looks. Jadiel almost scoffs.

"Dance?" Right when Jadiel is about to offer Thorne some help, the man offers him his own hand. Jadiel looks down at him palm almost dumbly; soft, gentle. The pad of his palm is a smooth crest, his fingers open. The invitation couldn't be sweeter and for a moment, Jadiel thinks his neck is getting hot. Some highschool memory comes back to him, being offered a dance. It's all too clear that Jadiel is lost for he doesn't speak for a good five seconds.
"Yeah, fuck it." Abandoning his thirteen dollar sugar water, Jadiel takes Thorne's hand. His own brownish pink palm is calloused, firm. The hands of a hardcore tinkerer. It's tiny in Thorne's grip but it fits just right, or so Jadiel's hopeless romanticism tells him.

On the dance floor, the club music pumps heavily around them. That familiar electronic thrum is blasting through the air, muddying the senses. It's the kind of bass that can be felt in the chest, deep. The lights are murky around them, fading in and out of technicolor and black.
Jadiel keeps a modest distance, close enough to Thorne to be touched but not bridging that gap just yet. For being a clumsy speaker, he's not a clumsy dancer. He knows how to use his hips, rocking easily with the thump of the music. He looks up to Thorne, his eyes a blown out black in his head, twin bullet holes. Jadiel grins as he finds himself more comfortable than he thought he would be. Thorne wants this; he asked to dance with him. He'll do quite nicely for a night, Jadiel decides.
 
Thorne is amused by Jadiel's seeming surprise, even uttering a chuckle at the smaller man's momentary hesitation. When Jadiel takes his hand, Thorne pulls him onto the dance floor. They move between the crowds of people to find a semi open spot, and Thorne successful moves them so his own back is toward anyone trying to approach to interrupt. Thorne's not about to let anyone get in his way. But the distance Jadiel keeps between them makes him laugh. His hands reach out, grasping the man's hips and pulling him forward, closer. Thorne lowers his head near Jadiel's ear so he doesn't have to shout over the music, since they're now right below the overhead speakers. "I don't bite, you know. Unless you want me to."

Thorne grins, hips moving against Jadiel's, hands keeping him close. The song changes, but it's still a good thumping sound. Loud voices around them cheer to the music. Thorne keeps them dancing for a good ten minutes. After a number of songs, Thorne leans his head down again. "Let me buy you a drink." He leads Jadiel off the dance floor by the hand, over to an empty booth. "Wait here."

Before getting a response, Thorne turns and heads back to the bar. His back is to Jadiel, but he's pretty certain the younger man won't be going anywhere. He orders another scotch for himself, and that blue drink Jadiel had before; his previous one had been cleared away. As he pulls money from his jeans pocket, he also palms his secret 'weapon': a tablet of Nova, his aphrodisiac. Potent, fast acting, and tasteless, it's easy to hide in drinks. It also dissolves quickly, so he drops it into the blue drink as he passes the bartender the cash. By the time he gets his change back, the tablet is dissolved. Thorne picks up the drinks, making his way back over to where he had left Jadiel. He disguises a slight swirling of the man's drink as just the motion of him walking. Thorne sets it on the booth table, then sits across from Jadiel. "There you go."
 
Fuck, Jadiel wouldn't be mad if Thorne bit him. Their bodies are pressed closer now, much closer, and all the heat in Thorne's body washes over Jadiel in a smooth wave. He swallows the nerves that try to fill him up and responds to Thorne with a side-eye and a smirk, encouraging their bodies to knit. He's got his arms up around Thorne's shoulders, holding on to him as their bodies move in tandem to the music.
He loses track of time pretty quickly, just getting used to the feeling of Thorne touching him. He feels strong underneath that black dress shirt and Jadiel invites himself to touching, feeling his biceps and the firm flexes of his right arm. His left arm Jadiel touches, too, knowing the sensors in it can register the feeling of his hand. Something about the metal excites him, too.

Before Jadiel can pop a boner in the middle of the dance floor, Thorne is guiding him away and offering a drink, as well as a brief break. Jadiel can feel a bead of sweat on his back and privately, he's thankful for the pause. He doesn't need to get all wet quite yet.
"Salud," Jadiel offers. Cheers. He taps his glass lightly against that of Thorne's before taking a healthy drink of it, good and oblivious to everything. Sweet, sugary blue, just how he likes.
Jadiel spends the next ten minutes chatting with Thorne, rambling about whatever pops into his head. Thorne doesn't seem to mind listening, so Jadiel speaks. His stories are silly and strange, just like he's been coming off. Jadiel is generally light hearted, though some of his stories have him displaying a mean streak of stubbornness, his full lips pouting as he insists that he was right.

It sneaks up on him, the heat. Maybe it's just fun talking to Thorne, who will not only listen but engage with him. It hits him like the weed hits him sometimes; he turns his head a little and boom, stoned beyond comprehension.
"Hey, sorry-" Jadiel cuts himself off with a faint chuckle. "Gimmie' a second, I'll be right back." Maybe he stumbles a little when he gets up from the booth, his heart beating a little harder in his chest and making him light on his feet. Jadiel swallows hard, presses on.

By the time Jadiel makes it to the private bathroom he doesn't even remember to lock the stupid door. He leans against it hard as he pushes it shut with his back, panting.
"¿Qué carajo?" Jadiel breathes, shaking his head. What the fuck? Looking down, Jadiel makes an unwelcome discovery; he's tenting his pants so hard it looks like the button is going to snap. He likes Thorne enough, but this is a little extreme. He wipes the new, light sheen of sweat from his forehead and meanders to the sink, running his hands under the icy water. He's trembling. Jadiel is having trouble catching his breath and he splashes the cold water on his face, trying to calm down. A pulse hits him, some terrible, whimpering want and Jadiel's right hand slaps down hard over his own mouth, choking on the sound that tries to come out. It'll go away, Jadiel convinces himself. He's just excited and this is just one of those awkward, no-reason boners that used to happen all the time. He'll be laughing about this later.
 
Thorne listens to Jadiel talk, content to let the younger man fill the conversation. Jadiel has Thorne's undivided attention, and Thorne does add the occasional comment. When Jadiel excuses himself, Thorne watches him walk away to the restroom with a smile. Perfect, the Nova is taking effect. Thorne waits about five minutes before he downs the remainder of his drink, then walks both his own glass and Jadiel's to the bar. "We're done with these, thanks." He had purposely returned the glasses, knowing the bartender would dump the remainder of Jadiel's drink, to make sure no other drunk accidentally picked it up to drink it.

From there, Thorne walks to the restroom door, knocking on it. "Jadiel?" With no response, Thorne tries the doorknob. Finding it unlocked, he opens the door and steps inside, pushing it shut behind him. His voice masks the sound of the lock clicking. "Drink a little too much, Jadiel? Do you need some help?" Thorne steps forward, reaching his right hand out to squeeze the shorter man's bicep. Obviously, Thorne knows exactly what's going on, but he can't let Jadiel know that, not yet.
 
Oh fuck. Thorne's voice hits Jadiel like a freight train. His heart starts hammering even more intensely and not in the cool, sexy way that Jadiel would like it to happen when it comes to Thorne. Instantly, he turns his back to the door, glancing over his shoulder and blinking away the bead of sweat dripping down his temple. One hand is on the sink, the other, now gripping the flannel around his waist and making sure the hanging sleeves are covering his junk. Fucking skinny jeans.

"N-Nah man, I'm not even-" Thorne's hand falls over Jadiel's tiny bicep, gripping, and the guy nearly chokes on his breath. Even just having Thorne touch his arm right now is making him a little dizzy. He shakes his head hard and looks away, kicking himself for not even bothering to lock the door. He barely even registered that it was a thing when he got in here.
"-Not even tipsy." Jadiel catches his breath enough to rasp it out. He swallows, eyes pinching behind his glasses. The intelligent part of his brain is telling him to get Thorne out of here. The part of his body threatening to rip his pants, however, is singing a different tune.

"Man," Jadiel pants. He has no idea what to say without fucking everything up. "This- This is stupid embarrassing, I like- I was having fun talking and now I'm blowing it. Uhh, listen- I promise I'm not a freak. Can we-" A shiver hits him so suddenly it makes his teeth chatter. He grunts, ashamed.
"Can we like try again some other time? I'm having a weird problem, but I'm- I wanna see you again. Just not now. Uhh." Jadiel glances over his shoulder and catches Thorne's cool gaze. It makes his mouth water and he licks his lips, looking away again quickly. His tongue is pierced, a little gold ball right in the center.
 
Thorne is highly amused by the way Jadiel is trying to explain away his little 'problem'. He listens, biting the inside of his lower lip to keep from laughing. Instead of going away, Thorne moves closer, coming up behind Jadiel without actually pressing against him. His height makes it easy to peer down in front of the shorter man. Thorne hums, then finally allows himself a small chuckle. His hands move to Jadiel's hips, squeezing lightly. "I don't see a problem. I see a man whose libido raised it's head. I see a man that has needs. Needs I can help with."

Thorne lowers his head to let his lips brush Thorne's ear. His breath is warm, voice encouraging. "Relax, there's nothing wrong with feeling attracted to someone you just met." Thorne slides his hands around to Jadiel's abdomen, then pulls the man back against his taller body. All that hard muscle feels like being pulled against a brick wall, his arms to either side of Jadiel caging him in.

Just then, there's a knock on the door, followed by a shout. The door muffles the sound, but it's something along the lines of 'no fucking in the restroom'. A staff member must have noticed that Jadiel didn't come out before Thorne went in. Thorne laughs, stepping back from Jadiel. "Let me take you home." He doesn't give Jadiel a chance to protest. Wrapping one arm around the man's waist, Thorne guides him out of the restroom. A bouncer is standing outside, scowling, and Thorne gives him an innocent smile and a wink. Thorne pulls Jadiel along with him, around the dance floor and out the front door of the club. The cool air hits them, but doesn't seem to bother Thorne. He pulls out his phone, pulling up speed dial and making a selection. "Let me call my driver. I didn't drive, and you certainly should not be."
 
If Jadiel actually, seriously intended on coming to the bar tonight to bring someone home, he's achieved his goal in spades. Thorne is the perfect amount of firm, coming up behind him and letting out a tiny chuckle at his issue. Jadiel feels himself shaking under Thorne's hands, feels himself leaning back into the older man. Thorne could pick him up likely with one arm, easy. The idea of the guy manhandling him in the bathroom isn't as unappealing as it should be; he's messed around in worse. At least it's clean in here. Jadiel turns his head at the touch of lips to his ear and lets out a sigh that is embarrassingly close to a whimper. He doesn't have condoms in his pocket.

The bang at the door is a blessing and a curse. He doesn't have lube, either, and Jadiel has a lot more than quick handjobs on his mind right now. He's whisked out of the bathroom and out of the club itself before Jadiel can complain. His mouth forms at some words, some lame protests, but all that comes out is-

"You have a driver?" Handsome, tall, and apparently well off enough to have a chauffer. Jadiel swallows as the cold night air hits him. It just makes him move closer to Thorne, greedy to soak up all that warmth and attention.
He should be questioning if this is a good idea. Jadiel has hardly known Thorne for over and hour now. He could end up as a lampshade tomorrow, freshly skinned without even a drop of his own blood left as a trace. Jadiel can't get a much different image out of his head; somewhere in Thorne's likely fancy kitchen, dressed up in naught but an apron and making them breakfast. He's got cowlicks in his hair, fresh from being fucked all night. Thorne is just some dude who, somehow, also found Jadiel cute. The man said so himself; nothing wrong with being attracted to a stranger.

"Where do you live?" Jadiel asks, and he can't really mask the anticipation in his voice. It's a mix of two things; are they leaving the city, and how long will it take before Jadiel can get Thorne inside of him? Or, before he can get inside of Thorne? Jadiel isn't one to make demands; he just wants relief right now. He's so hard it hurts, tucked into Thorne and still trying to hide his crotch with his flannel. Jadiel looks up to his new companion, eyes starry behind his glasses.
 
"Max, I'm ready to leave. I'm at the front door." Thorne briefly ignores Jadiel as he speaks into his phone, but his arm is still around the man's waist, making it obvious he's not about to let Jadiel go. Thorne, of course, had been dropped off here. It was all part of the plan to steal Jadiel away. He'd asked his driver, Max, to park somewhere nearby, but not too close. Pocketing his phone, Thorne chooses to ignore the first question and answer the second instead. "On the other side of the city."

Thorne's home is far from the labs where Nova is manufactured, to keep him seemingly separate from the operations. However, he keeps a tight hold on everything that happens. There are very few people Thorne trusts, but he's got a handful of men that handle different tasks involved in manufacturing control, sale, and tracking buyers. From general society's view, Thorne is simply a co-owner of a small-time pharmacy. In fact, he even owns a pharmacy shop as a normal storefront: regular staff and pharmacists running the place legally and following every regulation, handling normal prescriptions, as any other pharmacy. All to maintain his general image as an average citizen.

It's only about five minutes before a sleek black car pulls up. The backseat door closest to them rotates forward and up instead of straight outward, opened at a push of a button from the driver. Thorne ushers Jadiel into the car, then follows. A darkly tinted window separates them from the driver. The door closes silently, and Thorne knocks on the window to let Max know they're seated. He doesn't seem to care about seatbelts, instead setting one hand on Jadiel's upper thigh. His fingers gently knead the soft muscle as he crosses his own right leg over his left at the knee. "How are you feeling?"
 
The wait for the car is uncomfortable at best. Jadiel is thankful that Thorne has an arm around his waist for Jadiel is feeling particularly light on his feet. He leans easily into the man, somehow soothed by the scent of his cologne, the feeling of his hand on his hip. When the car does come up, Jadiel doesn't have time to be impressed by the sleek, black model. He meanders his way inside and makes room for Thorne, though the man doesn't stay distant from him for long.

"Fuck-" Jadiel's head rests back into the seat as Thorne touches him, fingers playing gently at his thigh. Instinctively he spreads his legs, just enough for Thorne to sneak his hand further in so he should choose.
"Like I'm in highschool again or some shit." Jadiel laughs in his humility, shaking his head. "I swear I'm not usually this easy, dude. Just having a funny night I guess." Funny is putting it lightly. He leans closer to Thorne, closing the gap between their shoulders. Since Thorne is touching him, Jadiel figures returning the favor will be acceptable.

"I promise I'm not a sex freak if you promise you're not an axe murderer." Jadiel snorts, unable to cope with his situation without trying to douse the flames with humor. Though they're touching, Jadiel wants, needs to be closer. He bridges the gap.
Jadiel slides into Thorne's lap with relative composure for someone so worked up. He straddles the man cooly, legs spreading on his lap, knees to hips. Even like this, their eyes are hardly level. Jadiel is just too short and Thorne is just too big. His hands come up to Thorne's shoulders, gentle on the nice fabric of his dress shirt. He's smoldering with heat. Jadiel keeps a levelled gaze though the want in his eyes is too clear.
"I'd even let you top me," Jadiel offers, paired with a cocky smirk. "Just saying. I'm down for whatever, just- Just wanna know what you're thinking." The technician shrugs a little, still trying to play the situation down.
 
Thorne uncrosses his legs as Jadiel moves onto his lap. The Nova is certainly doing it's job; making the short man horny and removing his inhibitions. His hands move to the boy's waist, holding onto him as Max is forced to hit the breaks hard to avoid running a red light. Max is a good driver, and Thorne trusts his judgement to not get them pulled over.

Thorne listens to Jadiel's words, a wry smile pulling at his lips. Of course he intends to fuck the boy. Thorne would have to be blind to not see how attractive Jadiel is. It's just luck that the engineer he's been stalking, is now currently kidnapping, is attractive. But it's just as well, because Thorne intends to use Nova to get this man to do his bidding, knowing how highly addictive his drug is. "I'm thinking you're just what I need to make this night have a good ending."

Thorne moves his hands, snaking them down into the back of Jadiel's pants, and underwear, to grasp the smooth curves of his ass. Fingers kneading, cybernetic hand feeling slightly different than the feel of the other. Thorne watches Jadiel's expressions, amused.
 
Jadiel doesn't even notice the driver cut a hard stop. He feels all too secure in the lap of this handsome stranger, relatively free to touch and caress as his mind is insisting he should. Most of his mind, anyway. Somewhere he thinks this is a bad idea. Not in a dangerous sense, but a normal Jadiel would still be at the bar, getting closer to Thorne verbally rather than physically before taking him home. Things are moving fast, but that cautious part of Jadiel's brain is sizzling into mist in the frying pan.

"I'll take that as a yes," Jadiel snorts, that funny smirk playing at the corners of his mouth again. He wasn't showboating; he would let Thorne top him, or do probably most of anything else he might be thinking of. The tech has pretty hard tunnel vision right now and the light at the end is Thorne's body laid bare, above or beside or on top of his own. Jadiel just wants his dick wet.

The metal of the cybernetics is warm against Jadiel's ass and he hisses through his teeth, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He's got a fat ass for a guy, heavy and full in Thorne's hands. His hips roll back into Thorne's hands shamelessly, letting him feel up as much as he wants and more.
"Shit-" Jadiel mumbles through his teeth, babbling more than anything. Thorne just touching his ass is making him too hot already. A bead of sweat rolls down his spine. He feels like the heat is on in the car, or maybe it's just the shock from coming in from the blistering cold. His hips push down in a tight circle, their groins grinding together. Jadiel is fiercely hard beneath the zipper of his tight jeans and though he's tempted to lose a layer right here in the car, he has some modicum of composure left.
"Can I kiss you?" Jadiel asks, a murmurs as he glances up to Thorne from beneath his heavy lashes. Thorne is firing consent on all cylinders, but he's not sure if kissing is too romantic for this interesting situation.
 
Thorne grunts lightly as Jadiel grinds down on him. He's hard too, so the friction is welcome. His own jeans do a better job at hiding his size, though. Hands firmly grasping Jadiel's ass, Thorne smirks at the innocent question. As much as the Nova is dissipating this man's inhibitions, it's interesting to see he still holds such questions closely. Most people under the influence of Nova just try to take what they want. Then again, most people Thorne has interacted with are already addicted to the stuff, and not first time users - though not by choice in Jadiel's case.

"Do you want to kiss me?" It's more fun to bait Jadiel than to give him a straight answer. Thorne's hands squeeze the shorter man's plump ass, pulling him in closer. Thorne's not doing much at the moment, but the motions of the car are certainly rocking them against each other slightly. A brief glance outside tells Thorne they're about five minutes from home; there's not much traffic at this hour.
 
The question has Jadiel snorting, and a roll of the eyes follows. Thorne is making fun of him, clearly. Teasing him. Normally someone might be put off by that sort of thing, but Thorne pushing at Jadiel's buttons has Jadiel's blood boiling a bit hotter and far from in a negative sense. Jadiel likes to be teased and strung along. Belittled from time to time, though he keeps that private.
"Culo," Jadiel quips right back. He calls Thorne an ass, not caring if he understands or not. The subtle ebb of the car helps him lean right down.

Jadiel's mouth is warm against Thorne's, his lips soft. The scratch of his facial hair is barely there as he licks into Thorne's mouth, brushing their chins together. It's a strange sensation, briefly, Jadiel's forked tongue. It has been split down the middle and the twin snakes are curious against Thorne's own, gently prodding rather than attacking. For now, Jadiel is a soft kisser. He's not some virginal fool, oblivious as to how to kiss. Oddly he kisses Thorne like a lover might; intimate, understanding. His hands are much more firm on Thorne's shoulders, almost pushing at the fabric now as though attempting to strip him right there in the car. Jadiel's mouth tastes faintly of whatever blue drink he had at the bar, saccharine.
 
Thorne has no idea what Jadiel just said, whether it be a curse word, a tease, or a name of endearment. But that doesn't really matter right now. The kiss is nice, if a bit surprising. Thorne hadn't noticed Jadiel's split tongue, and it's definitely a different experience. Not a bad one, just different. Thorne's tongue responds in kind, rubbing against and between the separated ends in his mouth. Certainly, Thorne generally takes a more dominant role, but for now, he allows Jadiel to do what he pleases. The young man would be submitting to him soon.

Thorne can feel Jadiel's hands pushing at the fabric of his dress shirt, though the buttons down the front hold it in place. Thorne's metal fingers slide into the crease between Jadiel's ass cheeks, brushing his hole. He growls into the boy mouth, then pulls back just enough to bite Jadiel's lower lip, tugging it. The timing is perfect; Max pulls up the car in front of what could almost be called a mini mansion.

Thorne removes his hands from Jadiel's pants as Max comes around the car to open the door. As heated and hard as Jadiel is, Thorne urges him out the door onto his own feet, rather than carry the shorter man. He follows, quick to wrap an arm around the shorter man's waist to keep him from wandering. From the outside, the house looks pristine. White stone foundation topped with dark blue clapboard, accents, window frames, and the front door done in dark wood. Most of the windows are darkly tinted and only reflect the surrounding exterior. Thorne leads Jadiel up to the front door as Max pulls the car around a side alley to the back of the house.
 
It is in the same moment that Thorne's finger teases Jadiel's hole and teeth bite into his lower lip. The reaction is instant and visceral. The whimper that comes out of Jadiel's mouth is a wanton cry, however brief. It has his back arching, chest pushing into Thorne's own with a startling firmness. It's more than enough to make him falter, the dual sensations of pleasure and pain. The tech swallows hard and exhales, another breathy whine that has his eyes pinching shut.

It is by some benevolent grace that they pull up to the house for Jadiel was starting to think he would end up like some virginal idiot and come in his pants. He feels shaky now as Thorne whisks him from the car, an arm about his waist to lead him. He has little time to appreciate the extremities of the building, though the brief glance he gets shows off the fact that Thorne has money. Money to burn from the looks of it; Jadiel can't remember the last time he saw a place this nice, much less was allowed inside as just a slum mechanic.

"Fancy," Jadiel murmurs, offering a short whistle. He'll be thinking twice now about showing Thorne his own place if ever given the opportunity. He would have to do an intense bout of laundry before he considered it.
At the door, Jadiel is about as patient as he can be. Thorne has made it clear about how things will be going tonight, but that doesn't stop Jadiel's wandering hands. If Thorne got to touch his ass, he'll simply return the favor. He's smirking as he slips a hand around Thorne's back, hand smoothing over his ass in a curious sort of way.
He feels a bit lightheaded, in a way he hasn't felt before. He kind of wants to just fuck Thorne right here on the porch; fuck waiting, fuck going inside. Jadiel wants Thorne inside of him immediately. He shifts on his feet, his heart pounding in his chest. His current mood might have worried him were he not absolutely shitfaced on arousal.
 
Thorne chuckles when he feels Jadiel's hand on his ass. Not flat by any means, but not rounded like the shorter man's. More toned, like that of someone who regularly works out. Thorne slips his cybernetic left hand beneath the hem of Jadiel's shirt, fingers splaying across his stomach, as he unlocks the door. It's a number pad lock, so he angles his body just enough to block Jadiel's view of the numbers.

Inside, the lights come on by motion detection. The front entrance, as most of the interior, is designed in dark woods and deep blues and greens. An archway to the right leads to a modern white, black, and steel kitchen. To the left, another archway enters into a living room with the same deep blues and greens. A stairway leads up to the second floor, and a hallway beside it leads to the back of the house, and the back door.

Thorne guides Jadiel up the stairs to the second floor, to the left down the hall. There's two closed doors on the right, and one on the left. It's this left door that Thorne ushers the shorter man through. It's a bedroom, the master bedroom of the house, in fact, and once again, blues and greens seem to be the staple colors. There's two doors to the right from here, one leading to a walk in closet, the other to an ensuite bathroom. One last door leads onto a balcony overlooking the front driveway of the house.

The second the bedroom door clicks shut and Thorne locks it behind him, he pushes his hands under Jadiel's shirt, pulling it up over his head and tossing it to the cleanly kept floor. Those hands then pull the shorter man flush up against his body, and Thorne bends his head to bite at Jadiel's jaw. Finally in the privacy of the bedroom, Thorne isn't holding back. He wants to take advantage of the Nova before it wears off, and given that it's nearly been an hour, Thorne only has two more before Jadiel's body burns through the effects.
 
Jadiel does take his time to admire Thorne's home, though he tries not to make a show of it. He imagines the man is used to people telling him his home is lavish, gorgeously designed in those deep jewel tones. Jadiel might mention something later, play it down like he's being cool. He walks along with Thorne, not really taking note of the doors or hallways. Why would he? He could ask for a tour tomorrow, assuming he spends the night. Thorne doesn't really seem like the type to send him on some walk of shame.

The door clicks behind them, a particular kind of sentence though Jadiel doesn't know it yet. As Thorne is reaching, so is Jadiel. His crop top is abandoned on the floor and Jadiel hisses softly through his teeth as Thorne bites him, teeth baring down on the stubble of his jaw. He's a far cry from the man in the car. Interested, but restrained. Jadiel feels attacked and he's relishing in it.

"Fuck, harder," Jadiel grunts, hands coming to grip firmly to Thorne's shoulders. Their height difference is bothering him so Jadiel remedies it by crawling right up.
Vicelike, his hips bounce up and his legs wrap around Thorne's own hips. It grinds their bodies together perfectly and Jadiel chokes on another meek whimper. He keeps one arm around Thorne's shoulders but his other hand is on the move, searching for the buttons of his shirt and trying to pry them apart.
Jadiel's body is lithe, definitely in the fit side though not exactly near muscular. His ribs are just barely visible in the light, as are the bones of his hips. His stomach is a taut, hollow plane with just a faint trail of hair circling his navel. His nipples are pierced; there's a petite, golden ring through each of them, dangling prettily in the brown-pink flesh.

"I want you," Jadiel murmurs, gently against the shell of Thorne's ear. He's making quick work of his dress shirt, popping the buttons open as quickly as he can while his hands shake. "C'mon, papi. Hurry up." There's some impatience there, followed by a quiet snicker.
 
Thorne is quick to catch Jadiel when he jumps upward, hands grasping the backs of his thighs. He growls, indeed biting harder as his mouth travels along Jadiel's jaw to his neck. There, his teeth continue their assault, leaving various small bite marks. He's not really paying attention to the features of the boy's shirtless body, more distracted by the hand pulling open his shirt. Good, the Nova is definitely doing it's job, making Jadiel want him.

Thorne moves, walking them toward the bed. He drops Jadiel onto his back, letting his grasp carry him down. Hands land on the mattress to either side of Jadiel's shoulders as he bites down again, where neck meets shoulder. Far harder this time, though not quite enough to break skin. Satisfied that it would create a bruise, Thorne lifts his head, licking his lips. His hands push the boy up the bed, closer to the center. Then he pulls away, pushing Jadiel's legs down and his hands away. He presses Jadiel's wrists into the bed, growling, smirking. "Don't move."

Thorne backs up a bit, then begins removing Jadiel's footwear, socks, then runs his hands up the boy's legs. His palm rubs firmly across Jadiel's groin, before his fingers pop the button on his jeans and pull down the zipper. Slowly, intentionally making Jadiel feel every inch of friction from the fabric, Thorne works Jadiel's jeans and underwear down off his hips, leaving him naked.
 
Jadiel is an open wound beneath Thorne, gushing and bright. Hands dig into his wrists, teeth in his shoulder, and Jadiel lets out his first unrestrained cry. It's a helpless thing, his hips arching up as he legs spread, humping shamelessly into Thorne's groin. Jadiel is a glutton for punishment in too many ways and the bedroom is no different; it is perhaps where he loves it most. Jadiel is nearly drooling. His shoulders and throat paint a constellation of punishment along the brown skin, dotted purple and an angry red. If he could see it, he'd be beaming with delight.

Don't move. Jadiel scoffs, but he remains in position with his wrists crossed above his head, fingers loosely cuffed. He is even well-behaved as Thorne lays bare his body, though his catlike slowness has Jadiel squirming. His hips buck as Thorne peels his zipper away like the flesh of a fruit, his fingers curling up in the sheets.
"Fucker-" Jadiel smarts through his teeth, letting out a groan of release when, finally, Thorne lets his cock out. His arousal falls to his pelvis with a heavy slap, bouncing. He has a subtle curve pointing towards his stomach, angled down just enough to notice. He's pleasant in length, a modest seven inches, but the kid is as thick as his fucking wrist. He's uncut, arousal smeared around his urethra, a string of it drooling onto his pelvis.

Being in his birthday suit while Thorne is entirely clothed - apart from his shirt hanging open - actually has Jadiel blushing. There's a pink tinge to his cheeks as he looks up to Thorne, eyes smoldering behind his glasses.
"Take off your clothes before I do it for you," Jadiel huffs, sitting up. A hand reaches, curling into the front of his pants and giving a surprisingly firm tug. "You won't be happy if I rip these nice pants, hm?" Jadiel shifts as though to sit up, intending to get everything off of Thorne.
"Where is your lube?" Jadiel murmurs, eyes downcast on his hands while he fusses with Thorne's belt. The shirt, at least, is now gone completely, tossed away onto the floor like it was something offensive.
 
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