Smoke Signals • EarthMix AU

CHAPTER 1: Ignite

Mix swears he isn't falling for this one.

Actually, Khaotung said not to fall for anyone he meets on the app.

He has a nice built, a stellar built, if Mix is being honest. His tanned chest peeks through his blue button-down shirt & although Mix did not intend to, his eyes eventually scan an area that isn't deemed appropriate by anyone's standards.

He immediately looks away but the man has caught on. And smirks.

Mix wants to play it cool. Unlike dates (if he could call this that) he's been to before, he knows what this man is after, and for the first time ever, he wants it, too.

Well, sort of.

He promised his best friend that he's going to try. Just to see what the hype is all about. Heck, he just wants to go out and not wallow for another night. Try his hand at something new this time. Mix recalls Khaotung saying that with his social skills, if he waits for an 'organic' dating opportunity to present itself, then he'd end up in a massive dry spell his whole life.

He convinces himself that there is nothing wrong with wanting to have a little bit of fun every once in a while and casual sex offers a kind of novelty that Mix, against his better judgment, is kind of eager to experience.

- - -

Earth knew what he was looking for. But he wasn't sure if it's the man in front of him.

He lives by one rule and one rule alone when it comes to dating:

'Find a player if you're looking to play'

Easy. No strings attached. No awkward conversations. No pillow talk. No sappy breakfasts the next day. Even his Hooked Up profile states this clearly: Here for a good fuck and nothing else.

And he's usually gone first thing in the morning after his escapades. Sometimes, when it's so bad, he just ups and leaves immediately after he showers or soon after the other falls asleep.

Whenever he's free, Earth prowls most nights, looking to satisfy a primal need. Shrouded by the possibilities presented by the night and looking for men willing to play with him. With the other's consent, of course. He may be into this whole serial hook-up thing, but he isn't a douchebag. Forcing himself on another man takes the fun out of sexual encounters. And Earth loves sex too much to be disillusioned by guilt.

He could sense the hesitation on the other man. Which is sad, considering Earth's already taken a liking to his deep-set eyes, thick eyebrows, and handsome face. A face he's very much keen on seeing contort in both pain and pleasure—hopefully within the next hour.

Earth moves forward and levels his head with the man, studying him closely. He leans in so the other hears him over the music, "I don't want to speak on your behalf since, well, we just met," Earth starts, "but I'm pretty sure you don't want this."

- - -

Mix looks at him, stunned. He knew this would happen. He wonders how he comes off to this man. Scared? Nervous? God, desperate? He might as well have carried a sign that says "hook-up culture neophyte". They hadn't ordered anything yet and he wasn't exactly sure if food is on the menu for tonight. 'There's still time to back out,' Mix thought to himself.

But he didn't go through all the trouble of setting up an account at Hooked Up, sat in traffic for almost an hour, or dress up—too well, if you'd ask him—to back out now.

Absolutely fucking not.

And besides, his father would kill him if he discovers that this is the 'prior engagement' that made Mix cancel on family dinner. His other father would, well, probably laugh while teasing and grilling him for details. Gun and Off complement each other like that. Still, Mix is not sure whose reaction he's dreading more.

His mind is going into overdrive and he feels his hands getting clammy, shaking a bit, like it always does when he's flushed. And then, a sudden wave of nausea hits him. Is it this place? The music's too loud and the bodies bumping on the dance floor are certainly not helping. And he's closer now. Too close. But amidst his physical response to this encounter, what the man said has ignited his defensive side.

And damn if he's going to let a stranger corner him like that.

He collects his thoughts and pinches his leg to try to snap back to reality before saying, "I'm Mix,"

In his mind, he's downing an imaginary drink, an elixir of sorts, and slowly but clearly pushes the next words out of his mouth:

"You don't know me but I'm pretty sure you don't need to know me to fuck me good. Or do you?"

- - -

So he's feisty.

Earth's been on this game for years. Jumping from one partner to another, with the highs easily dulled after a few routine fucks. Naked bodies merging into a mush of faceless, moaning lulls. Earth's no longer easily impressed with men he meets from the app, but he admits that this encounter's starting a little different from the others.

And he's liking it.

Suddenly, there is a shift in the air and he's angling his vision to accommodate this man whose character has surprisingly warped in the few minutes that they stood there, sizing up each other.

He's suddenly seeing potential. Liking the sharpness of the other man's jaw and the way he challenged Earth like that. A little bit of challenge wouldn't hurt, would it? And he sure is up for one.

"Hi, Mix. I'm Earth," he stops for a second, offering Mix a hand—their contract for tonight—and continues:

"I hope you're ready to play."

<:>

Hi, there!

If you haven't disengaged already, then I just want to give you a massive thanks for reading the first chapter of "Smoke Signals". I'm not sure how long this story will be, but I'm pretty bent on just spewing the story out as much as I can.

Here's hoping I give justice to our stories.

P.S. I'd be including song recommendations in each chapter, just to help set the mood. For this, give FINNEAS's "Let's Fall In Love For The Night" a listen.

Hope to see you in the next chapter! 🌍 🪐