Hello Champ, Run!

The dimly lit bar pulsed with music and laughter, a contrast to the turmoil brewing in Marco's mind. Everyone's faces were barely seen because of the darkness and lights from the club's dance floor. Crowds swayed in response to the strong beat of the music, excitement lingering in the air along with the strong odour of alcohol. 

Marco, a twenty-two year old intern, sat on the velvet stool, swilling down various glasses of alcohol. 

“More..” He slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol as he extended his empty glass to the bartender, gesturing for him to refill it.

“Are you sure you're okay?” The lanky bartender with receding hairline asked, his face etched with concern.

Marco nodded, forcing a smile that starkly contrasted with the distress he buried.

The bartender slid the glass to him after refilling it while Marco gulped it down at a go, loving the burn of the liquor as it went down his throat.

Marco’s dreams of becoming a doctor seemed distant as his family's problems mounted. 

His father, Dr. Thomas, was locked up in jail, framed for the death of a notorious mafia figure while his mother was gravely ill and bedridden, receiving critical treatment in the hospital.

His hands balled into fist as the weight of uncertainty hung heavily on his shoulders, several thoughts flooding across his mind.

As he nursed his drink, lost in thoughts, a chanced glance across the bar got his attention.

A man stood tall, exuding confidence and power, his stormy gray orbs lingering on Marco's.

Although Marco had no clue who he was, he could tell that he was someone who exudes power and wealth.

He looked breathtaking in an effortless way. That chiseled jawline, well-groomed beards, and thin lips that could slice like a knife.

He stands in the club, hands in pocket, posture relaxed at radiating control, as if the entire place revolves around him.

He’s none other than the infamous Italian Mafia leader, Antonio Roberto Moreno.

He's known for his ruthlessness and leadership.

His presence was like a weight on Marco's spine, heavy and a little captivating.

When Antonio tore his gaze away, Marco exhaled the breath he’d been holding for what felt like an eternity.

He followed his movements with the corners of his eye and found him settling on a posh chair with his legs crossed.

Marco felt a wave of jealousy wash over him when a set of sluttish ladies approached him and flirted shamelessly, their bold advances catching him off guard.

“Not my circus, not my monkey,” He muttered through gnashed teeth as he slammed his whiskey on the table, the sounds echoing against the silence of his own thoughts.

As he took more shots, he could feel the burn travel from his throat to his stomach, igniting the simmering frustration inside him.

Marco's mind was a jumble of conflicting emotions. Despite his father’s deep-seated rejection and hatred of him for being gay, he felt sympathy for his imprisoned father and the accusations against him.

His mom, on the other hand, needs an exorbitant amount of money for her surgery and there was nothing but a few savings, which was negligent to cover the costs.

How pathetic their condition was.

Well, Marco was done brooding. He was done worrying about the past, the present, and what the future holds.

All he needed at the moment was some distraction.

“More..” He slurred as he slid his empty glass towards the bartender, who refused to refill it.

“You're clearly wasted, Man! I think you've had enough.” 

“Don't fucking tell me what to do. I need a refill.” Marco slammed his fist on the bar as he snarled, his voice rising in anger.

He glares at the bartender, his eyes daring him to refuse..

The bartender sighed in defeat as he popped another bottle of whiskey, watching it gurgle as it filled to the brim in his glass, before sliding it back to Marco with a mix of resignation and warning. 

“Do whatever you want. It's your fucking life. Just make sure you clean up the mess you're making.” 

Marco smirked before downing the drink at a go. The pounding bass of the club's music vibrated through his bones, reflecting the pulsating energy that radiated from within.

After a while, Marco staggered as he got on his feet, feeling the urge to pee.

He slid his fingers into his hair and exhaled deeply, his vision blurring as the entire place spun around him like a whirlwind.

He weaved through the crowd, their bodies reeking of sweat and alcohol.

“Fuck!” He mumbled as he wobbled, struggling to make his way to the restroom, his legs unsteady.

Pushing the door open, he squinted through the dim light.

The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant and stale air.

As he staggered towards the urinals, he collided with a broad figure, his senses heightening.

“Watch it.” A low husky voice growled, a hint of warning in it.

Marco looked up, and his heart spiked at the sight of the person in front of him.

It was him–the same mysterious stranger who had walked into the bar some moments ago. 

The same man he found captivating and intimidating.

Everything about him screams perfection–his pale skin, the curve of his jaw and the way his dark hair falls messily over his forehead.

Like a damned Greek god.

Antonio’s piercing gaze lingered on him, his eyes narrowed into slits as he struggled to make out Marco’s features despite the dim light.

The noises blend in the background as Marco's head pounded from the alcohol.

“Out of my way,” Antonio whispered hoarsely, dusting the invisible dirt on his shirt.

Marco smirked, his eyes flashing with amusement as his gaze settled on Antonio's unbuttoned shirt, which revealed his toned chest and a hint of tattoo beneath.

Marco found himself getting turned on 

The alcohol messed with him as he bit his lower lip and drew a line on Antonio's chest with his finger.

Antonio swiftly grasped his finger and leaned towards him, his cologne, something rich, dark, sinful, invading Marco's senses.

With a stern look, he warned in a low voice. “You're playing with fire, dude.” 

“Tell me. Are you gonna ruin me?” Marco challenged, his words laced with a dare.

He trailed Antonio's neck with his other finger, sending a spark of desire that left him breathless.

Antonio grasped both of his hands and pushed him gently to the wall, his gaze lingering on him.

“Be careful, champ.” He warned. “I don't play games.”

“Then it's a good thing I do,” Marco smirked and then he leaned forward, his lips brushing the delicate part of Antonio's ear.

“Let's fuck!”

“Do you know what you're asking for?” Antonio mumbled, his words laced with warning.

Marco smirked and then replied, “You're the one who won't stop staring at me. I figured I'd make it easy for you.”

“You're drunk,” Antonio mumbled, his jaw clenched.

“I don't give a fuck…”

Antonio's lips curled into a lopsided smile. “Be careful what you offer. When I take something, I don't give it back.”

“Then take me..” Marco challenged, his words dripping with sweetness, eyes sparkling with arousal.