Night Two - No Promises

“You’ve got some nerve showing up here again,” Kai Lennox said, voice low and edged with warning as he slid a fresh scotch across the polished bar top exactly at 11:47 p.m. “One night, remember? I don’t do encores for suits who think they own the city *and* my ass.”

Damien Vale didn’t sit. He stood at the end of the bar in the same charcoal three-piece suit from the night before, jacket unbuttoned now, tie gone, the top two buttons of his black shirt open to reveal the hard line of his collarbone. Steel-gray eyes pinned Kai in place like he was already bent over something. The rooftop bar was dead quiet—last call long over, the neon Eclipse sign flickering softly behind him, rain streaking the glass walls.

“I remember,” Damien replied, voice dark velvet dragged over gravel. He picked up the glass, took a slow sip, then set it down without breaking eye contact. “But I also remember how you screamed my name while you came all over my hand. So tell me, bartender… are you really going to pretend you haven’t been hard since you opened tonight?”

Kai’s jaw flexed. The lie was right there on his tongue—he *had* been half-hard all shift, phantom ache from last night’s bruising stretch making every movement a reminder. He gripped the edge of the bar, tattoos flexing along his forearms. “Walk away, Vale. I’m closing up. Find someone else to ruin.”

Damien’s mouth curved into the ghost of a smirk. “Make me.”

The challenge hung between them like smoke. Kai tried. He really did. He turned his back, started wiping down the counter with sharp, angry strokes, muttering under his breath about rich assholes and one-time rules. But Damien rounded the bar like he owned it, big hand catching Kai’s wrist and spinning him around before Kai could finish the protest.

Their chests collided. Kai’s breath hitched.

“Last night was supposed to be it,” Kai growled, even as his body betrayed him, hips already pressing forward.

“Tell that to your cock,” Damien murmured against his ear, free hand dropping to palm the obvious bulge in Kai’s tight black jeans. “It’s been leaking for me since I walked in.”

Kai’s resolve cracked like cheap glass. He shoved Damien back a step—just enough to flip the lock on the service door—then let himself be crowded against the bar. Glasses rattled. A bottle of top-shelf vodka tipped and rolled away.

“Fine,” Kai bit out, voice rough. “But this is the *last* time. No marks. No staying over. You fuck me and you leave.”

Damien’s answer was a low, hungry sound as he spun Kai around and bent him over the bar top in one fluid motion. Kai’s chest hit the cool wood, cheek pressed to the polished surface, ass up and offered. Damien’s hands were everywhere—yanking Kai’s jeans and briefs down to his thighs in one rough tug, spreading his legs wider with a knee.

“Spread for me,” Damien ordered, voice thick. He dropped to his knees right there behind the bar, mouth hot and filthy as he dragged his tongue up the crease of Kai’s ass without warning.

“Fuck—*Damien*—” Kai’s moan broke on the name he swore he wouldn’t say again. The wet heat of Damien’s tongue circled his hole, licking, sucking, pushing inside like he had all the time in the world. Kai’s fingers scrabbled for purchase on the bar edge, tattoos standing out stark against his knuckles.

Damien ate him open like a man starving, two thick fingers joining his tongue, scissoring fast and deep until Kai was dripping and shaking. Only then did Damien stand, suit pants shoved just low enough to free his heavy, leaking cock. The condom and lube packet appeared from his jacket pocket—prepared again, the bastard.

He pushed in with one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

Kai’s shout echoed off the empty rooftop. The stretch burned perfectly, that same thick length from last night now slamming home like it belonged there. Damien didn’t ease up. He fucked Kai hard and fast, hips snapping, the wet slap of skin loud in the silent bar. One hand fisted in Kai’s messy brown hair, yanking his head back; the other gripped his hip hard enough to leave fingerprints.

“Still think you can say no to me?” Damien panted, pounding deeper, angling to nail Kai’s prostate on every stroke. “Look at you—bent over your own bar, taking my cock like you were made for it.”

Kai’s eyes fluttered shut, mouth open on a broken moan. “Harder—shit—*harder*, you fucking tease—”

Damien obliged. He leaned over Kai’s back, teeth scraping the side of his neck, and bit down—hard. Not enough to bleed, but enough to bloom a dark, possessive mark right where Kai’s shirt collar would barely hide it tomorrow. Kai came with a strangled cry, untouched cock pulsing between his stomach and the bar, cum striping the wood in thick ropes.

Damien fucked him through it, hips stuttering, then buried himself deep and came with a guttural groan, grinding like he could leave part of himself inside.

They stayed locked together for a long moment, breathing ragged, rain pattering louder against the glass now.

Damien pulled out slowly, tied off the condom, and tucked himself away. He helped Kai straighten, turned him, and kissed him once—slow, filthy, tasting like sin and scotch.

Kai touched the fresh bruise on his neck, eyes narrowed even as his legs still trembled. “I said no marks.”

Damien’s steel-gray eyes glittered with dark satisfaction. “You said a lot of things tonight.” He brushed a thumb over Kai’s swollen bottom lip. “See you tomorrow, Lennox.”

He turned and walked out without another word, leaving Kai half-dressed, marked, and already aching for the next time the clock hit 11:47.

One night.

They both knew the lie was getting thinner by the second.