Creating the Fire

chapter 2 part 5

AFTER a while Marcel gave up. He wasn't ready to stay with a stranger in his apartment alone. He knew all of the consequences. There were two options, either they had sex or tried to kill one another, and Marcel wasn't ready to face neither of those possibilities. So, yeah, it was better to chill for the night and have some fun. If they could call it fun.

They entered an overcrowded bar. The air was stuffy and there was no oxygen to breathe. "It feels like a dead cave," Marcel mutters to himself, Valentine smiles behind him, but he agrees with a little shrug when Marcel turns to glance at him. Neither of them got on the dance floor. They sat opposite a high bar table.

"Drink" Valentine offers with lightly raised brows. It turned to be a little awkward. They were supposed to be in dangerous games and now they were what? Flirting in a bar. "Something sparkling," Marcel dismisses him without a second thought. "сладкий?" he somehow forgets to speak English again even if it's as simple as the word 'sweet'. "Nah," Marcel gives him a little shrug, he's already analyzing the people in the bar.

It's not the usual bar. It turns out to be a gay bar of some sort. The blondie only sees men dancing with men and some women dancing with women. 'that was missing' the thought is crossing Marcel's tired mind. The next moment someone halts, when passing by his table. "Well, Beautiful," the man's raspy voice detects with a low flirty undertone. " I've got a gun, go fuck yourself," being straightforward doesn't help because the man starts laughing heavily. "Well, I ain't got no gun, but I have a big dick, I might fuck you," he comes even closer to whisper in Marcel's ear "Other way, I fear it'll be a waste. Imagine, my big juicy..."

"Back off!" Valentine sets the glasses on the table but he's not about to sit down. "You are the fucker of this bitch?" they stare into each other's eyes and their chests grow visibly, like two males fighting over one female. Marcel scoffs under his nose. He's not interested in guys, who fight over him. "Cyka, what didn't you get?" the situation heated up rapidly. Marcel tried to be blind to it but it didn't work out. "Scram!" he shouted furiously at the same time managed to stay indifferent. Both of the men backed off and the intruder growled. "You seem fuckable, you with the beautiful eyes, we'll see you next time," with those words he disappeared as fast as he had appeared.

"Are you okay, белоснежный?" Valentine takes his place smirking. "Snow-whit?" he answers with shot up brows and a half-smile unsurprised, takes a sip of his sparkling water, what he had expected," I'd hoped you'd came up with something slightly more striking."

"Are you disappointed?" Valentine is somewhat kiddy. "Well, considering your face I'm not sure if I need sex, sleep or punch someone in the face." And the husky atmosphere of the bar is filled with soft laughter, barely hearable in the full beat live band on the stage. It's not impressive but does the trick because customers are zippy, dancing and talking over the music.

"What's so funny?" Marcel gives the Russian a glance under his brows. "You," the short word without no hint of a Russian accent sounds strange in Valentin's mouth. There should have been something but Marcel didn't hear any. He starts surmising his identity but absolutely everything about the man screams Russian. Starting from his expressions and finishing with his temperament. It could be an act. He might be a faker. But Marcel loses all his analytical senses when his head starts buzzing softly. "Now, begin the magic spell," Marcel held his glass swirling the water with little hand movement and gave him a smug look. He already knew there was something in the water. It wasn't pure.

"You have a question, don't you, дорогой?" subdolous spark was gleaming in Valentine's eyes. He got to his feet at a slow pace, turned around the corner of the table and stood before Prince. He gave him the impression of being dandy. But Prince was sure the liquid and lightning were playing with his senses. He damned himself in his thoughts. Valentine was more clever than he at first had thought. "Let's talk," the Russian invites him for a dance. Prince takes his stretched out hand. What could be better than to spin when you already are dizzy?