Contains: XWG of the male variety, magic weight gain, MXM. These men will be hugely blobby and gay and there will be hot demon men, so reader discretion is advised
Jesse whistled to himself as he fumbled with the wads of cash in his pockets, turning the tight rolls of paper currency between his fingers. He strolled by mahjong parlors and poker dens, smoky clubs crawling with their usual suspects and public gambling halls flooded with tourists looking to make it big in the entertainment district. There was comfort in the flashing lights, the gaudy music, the lucky cheers, the unlucky cursing; this was a place where both sides of the coin were visible at once. Thankfully, he'd always been on the up and up here, lady luck kissing his cheek every time he rolled. Didn't matter what game he played, he won all the same. Jesse supposed it had always been like that; ever since he was a kid playing old maid with the seniors on the corner, he'd just been winning. Born like that, maybe; entering the world on a perpetual up.
Didn't matter, the whys and the hows, only that it just kept happening; he loved the complimentary drinks, the complimentary suits, the complimentary penthouse rooms, the complimentary lovers... hell, maybe it was just the luck again, but it seemed like the more money he made, the less he had to spend. But spend he did: manicures, private gyms with personal trainers, hundreds on haircuts and thousands on jewelry. Cars and planes, glitz and glamor... but there was only one thing that made him happy, and that was the thrill of the game. There wasn't a single gambling hall in this whole city that he hadn't visited, no game left un-dominated, no prize un-won... that was, until yesterday.
Nobody could tell him when it was built, who owned the place, or even what games were played there. He didn't notice any construction on the lot in the weeks prior; it was like it had suddenly appeared, bloomed from the ground into a grand temple of tempting chance on the very edge of the district.
The Devil's Deal... Jesse stared up at the smiling cartoonish devil that loomed over him, the sign all lit up with ember-red swirling letters. Suddenly noticing the encompassing quiet, he looked around, realizing that the street around the building was decidedly empty and lit only in the red of the sign.
The only sound came from beyond the doors, a piano number he couldn't quite make out. Tears formed at the edges of his dark green eyes as he stared into the dark glass of the doors, and took a moment to breathe; what was he so spooked about? Slow, quiet night just meant fewer people to crowd him once he started really raking in the cash; he smoothed back the stylish swoop in his chestnut hair, settled his pocket watch chain, adjusted the dark waistcoat on his toned, muscular torso, and pulled on the ornate brass handle of the glossy black doors.
At once, he was overwhelmed by the decor of the place: everything was new and pristine, but looked plucked straight out of an earlier age. Red velvet flooring, big purple curtains hanging down from a tall vaulted ceiling, chandeliers sparkling with a thousand tiny glass gems. Deep, dark wood comprised the paneling of the walls, swirling into intricate patterns at the two archways he could see ahead of him; one arch, further ahead and to his right, had a large sign above it, announcing the "Dining Room" in large gold letters. The wide wood doors were shut; just as well, he thought, wandering deeper into the building; he was hardly hungry, stomach too tightened by the prospect of the games that awaited.
He wandered up to a large, marble counter, large barred windows built into it peering into a room beyond. This was clearly the chip exchange counter, but where was the attendant? The clinking of a glass drew his attention to the bar at the back of the room, where a bartender busied himself mixing up drinks for the only other occupant in the room besides Jesse-- a young man, seemingly slightly younger than Jesse himself, perhaps 21 or 22, sat with his elbows on the bar. Like Jesse, he was dressed well, his coat hanging on the back of his chair leaving him in dark slacks and a nice white button-up shirt.
