What started with a random number (BXB) (GAY)

In his defense

Before the end of the day had even come, Red had already called his top-notch lawyer and paid in full. He had arranged a dinner for himself, the lawyer, and Emory to establish a basic understanding of the case. 

Against Emory's will, Red had additionally sent one of his men to retrieve a new suit for Emory to wear for the night, due to his previous one being burned along with his apartment. 

Clearly, Emory wouldn't be thrilled to have to wear a suit, as he has always expressed his utter distaste for them; however, there was another problem with it as well. The tie was pink, and he would most definitely be even less motivated to put it on. 

Red obviously didn't care and would force him to wear it anyway. It wasn't necessary for the dinner, but he was required to wear one to court to take on a professional look. 

As Emory was called downstairs to leave for the restaurant, he slowed his pace as his gaze landed on the neatly folded stack of clothing sitting on the island counter. He glanced between the clothes and Red before asking, "Is that for me? Is that a suit?" 

"Who else would it be for? Yes, it's for you," Red answered sarcastically with a roll of the eye. He picked it up off the counter and pushed it into Emory's hands. "Use the bathroom down the hall." He gestured to an open doorway a few strides away. 

Emory went to protest, but was immediately shut down before he could get a word out. He reluctantly turned on his heels and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

He emerged shortly after, suit on. It was nice and expensive-looking, consisting of a navy blue color similar to his old one, coating the blazer and dress pants with a deep-brown belt fitted tightly around his waist. 

The only differences between his old one and the new one were that the button-up shirt underneath was now white instead of black, and of course, the tie color--that he wasn't wearing--was pink.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but there's no way in hell you'd ever get me to wear a pink fucking tie" Were the first words that fell from Emory's mouth upon his exit from the bathroom. 

Red scoffed as Emory tossed the tie onto the counter and walked out into the garage without waiting for a response. He grabbed the tie and followed Emory out. 

"You're wearing the tie, there's no discussion to be had," Red called after him, speeding up his pace to walk alongside him. "You either put it on yourself, or I'll do it for you."

Emory stopped in front of the car he had previously chosen to ride in, finally turning to face Red. "I'm not gonna look gay as shi--" He was cut off as firm hands were pressed against his shoulders, shoving him up against the passenger door of the Chevrolet. "What the fuck?" 

Without a response or justification for his actions, Red held Emory to the car with one hand while he slung the tie around Emory's shirt collar. "Hold still." 

Emory did not hold still; he instead attempted to move out of the way, to which Red increased the pressure on his shoulder and slid his knee between Emory's legs. "It'll take two fucking seconds. Stop moving or I'll strangle you instead." 

Realizing he most likely didn't have a way out of wearing it, Emory reluctantly accepted defeat and stopped moving. The knee between his legs also played a slight part in his resigned submission. 

Looping it around twice before pulling it into a tight knot with a firm tug, Red smoothed out Emory's shirt and adjusted the blazer before stepping back. "Was that so difficult?" 

"Yes. Now I look like a fag." 

"I don't think it's because of the tie." 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"