forum Enemies to Lovers, but make it mlm (OxO, MATURE, CLOSED)

Started May 20 by @Desvelarse pets

tune

"Don't make me think about hard questions right now," Jirka instructs with an undertone of fire as he wrinkles his nose and pours himself yet another shot. "And don't lump me in with just another stereotype." He's well aware of his style and his curt fashion, most easily labeling him as something he's not quite sure of. He's never thought about it. He's never wanted to think about it. He just knows that he hasn't had much luck with women, and he wasn't about to test it with men. Jirka's not an easy man to be around. He's demanding and he's irritating and he refuses to settle for things that don't suit him just yet. "I'm just here to uphold my end of the bargain, there's nothing else to it, right?" He narrows his eyes in Yeong's direction. "And don't mistake my impatience as eagerness. I just want to get this over with so I can go home, back to my life without you."

God, he could be at home in his uncle's garden with that French classic he's been meaning to finish for the past few weeks. He notes that he won't be home to feed his darling Rosie her dinner and mentally reminds himself to ask Eliska to do so. He won't have his perfect pet starve because of Jirka's poor decision.

He pours himself another glass, about just another two shots before he knocks it back with ease. "You have confidence, and I respect that, but I'd like to know that you put your money where your mouth is." One more shot. "I'd hate to believe that you're overcompensating, Mister Navarro." He's still standing, not quite wanting to sit if it means that he'll be smaller than Yeong. He taps the desk impatiently, momentarily allowing his eyes to roam around the office, to note the natural sunlight from the evening just outside the large window. He notes with disdain that he could've avoided this all if Yeong hadn't been so irritating and if Jirka hadn't been so quick to take the bait. He can only imagine his sister ranting about his stupidity to his mother, but oh well. Jirka's an adult. He'll deal with whatever mistakes he'll make.

"If you don't mind, Mister Navarro, I have a cat to get home to and she'll be awfully irritated if I'm not back before breakfast, so I advise you tell me your plan now and we get it finished, preferably as soon as we can." He checks his watch. Fantastic, it's also dinner time. Their chef was making his favorite and now she'll be so disappointed not to see Jirka at the table, sitting just off to his sister's right. She always takes the head of the table. She always will be, leaving Jirka in her shadow, but that's alright. He's always been just a little more of a cold shadow than a person. "Stop dancing around and just get to the point, alright?" Jirka arches and eyebrow and adjusts his cufflinks before, once more, adjusting his glasses. Seven hells, he should really get them fixed.

Jirka avoiding the question about his sexuality made Yeong smirk. That was enough of an answer to him. It seemed to him that Jirka, despite the bite behind his words, didn't seem to be the one to act first. Thankfully, Yeong was more than happy to do that for him. "Right, your here to hold up your end of the bargain," he confirmed with a nod of his head. He wondered if Jirka really knew what he was getting into, or if he thought it was going to be some innocent meeting. Yeong's intentions were nothing but innocent, and he hoped that Jirka would get the memo sooner rather than later.

"A cat? What's her name?" Yeong asked, ignoring Jirka's insistence about getting things over with already. He had never had a pet growing up. The closest things that he had to pets were the racehorses, and even still, those were working animals. He had always enjoyed dogs more than cats personally, enjoying their energy and drive. Going over to the homes of friends that had dogs were enough for him. In current years, he knew he could get a pet if he wanted to, but he learned he likely wouldn't be able to handle it. With all of his cartel work, he barely had the time to keep a houseplant alive. That was proven by the various plants scattered around the office, all of them being plastic and fake.

Yeong put his hands up in a surrendering motion, chuckling softly to himself. "Alright, alright. It's about dinner time, isn't it? We could eat, if you're hungry. The chef here makes fantastic Hispanic dishes," he offered, rising from the desk after having one more shot of vodka. He wondered if Jirka ever had authentic Spanish food before. He wasn't too sure about if they ate that food where he came from, but there was a first time for everything.

"Or, since you're in such a hurry, we can just go on ahead and go to our room," Yeong offered alternatively. The way he said it was clear. Our room. They would be sharing a hotel room together. How else would they spend the night together if not in the same room? In the privacy of their own room, he would feel much more comfortable acting on his urges. His office wasn't as private as it seemed. There were multiple cameras placed throughout the room. It would be impossible to know where they were if someone wasn't actively looking closely for them. While it was for safety reasons, he still loathed the fact that they were there. The only place he could get a bit of privacy was in his own home- a top floor penthouse a couple of miles away from the casino property.

The question about Jirka's dear pet makes him momentarily believe that Yeong actually cares, but they both know that's not the case. Information is a weapon, even something as measly as a name. "Mirabella," he lies easily, the false name like butter over his tongue. Rosie would not appreciate being called anything else, but she isn't here. He'll apologize to her later with her favorite plate of fish and a dish of cat-friendly milk. If he's lucky, she'll lay on his lap while he reads. She's the reason why there are lint rollers in nearly every corner of the house, and Jirka wouldn't have it any other way. His mother claimed that he was attached to the little creature, but Jirka ignored her. Forgive him if he finds at least one small thing to love in a cruel, cold world.

"Forgive me if I am in a hurry, I don't want to be here any longer than I have to." Seal the deal, fix your mistake, return back to normal life without ever having to deal with this insufferable man again, Jirka mentally checks off the tasks. He collects his jacket from the back of the chair, draping it over his arm and smoothing the fabric to prevent any irritating wrinkles. "If dinner's what you want this evening to be, then I'll be your guest," Jirka says the words carefully, with intent on every syllable. His accent is a snarl. His teeth are flashes from beneath his lips. "And I suppose afterwards, we can always go to the room."

The promise of what awaits in a private hotel suite is… nauseating. At least, that's what Jirka believes the uncomfortable feeling in his chest is. He only allows his imagination to run for a few moments, but quickly shuts it off when a particularly suggestive (or downright explicit) image conjures in the back of his mind. He tightens his fist in the folds of his jacket and adjusts his glasses once more. He has to keep his composure, after all. He is the second heir to the largest syndicate in Central Europe. He has billions behind his name. He has a mother to impress and a sister to support. There are cameras covering every aspect of the room and there are armed men swarming around every corner, men that don't wear the signature white and royal blue of Jirka's family. For now, he is in enemy territory. For now, he'll have to deal with whatever whim Yeong Navarro conjures up. He is a guest. He is at the mercy of the host.

With a curled lip, he steps aside to allow the other man to leave the room first, Jirka right on his tail as they leave the office and step into the casino on the third floor. Of course, just as they entered, there are men in suits and weapons standing in every corner. The poor souls wasting their lives away at the slot machines pause and look to their host and his guest. Jirka keeps his eyes forward, half-shielded by his hair, and pointedly does not look at anyone. With his clenched fists hidden by his jacket, he turns to Yeong, still incredibly irritated that he is considerably shorter than the other man. "You decide. Dinner or room first."

As much as Yeong would love to hurry the night along and get Jirka alone in a bedroom, he decided to chat a bit more. He wanted to see if he could get under Jirka's skin any more than he already had. He wanted to know what made the man tick, even see if he could get him to let his guard down in the slightest. "Hm, we'll have dinner first, then," Yeong decided, stepping forward to leave the office.

The pair headed out, Yeong nodding to the two men who had been stationed at the door. The rooms seemed to grow quieter as they made their way through them. All eyes were on Yeong and his never-before-seen guest. They all had their assumptions. Most assumed Jirka to be whatever random person Yeong decided to sleep with that night. His promiscuity was no secret, as he made no moves to hide it. His parents loathed that behavior, always trying to set him up with the daughters of their business partners. The most recent one had been a woman he had recently had a short fling with. Her name was Stella, and her father had ties to the US government. He played a large part in helping the Navarro's avoid the law, so a marriage between their families would certainly improve the already strong relations.

Speak of the devil. As Yeong and Jirka neared the entrance of the connecting restaurant, a woman's voice called out Yeong's name. His jaw clenched, a soft sigh escaping his lips before he turned, plastering a friendly, but fake, smile on his lips. "Stella, cariño. What are you doing here?" he asked, tilting his head as she approached the pair. She was a gorgeous woman, skin lightly tanned with a full head of straightened ginger hair. She stood at about 5'7 with her heels on and wore a little black dress that hugged her curved figure nicely.

"I was looking for you. One of the men said you were up in your office having a meeting, so I couldn't go see you," Stella answered, red lips turned into a pout as she looked up at him with big green eyes. Her gaze flicked over to Jirka, giving him a quick once over. "Who is this?"

"This is my guest for the evening," Yeong answered simply, not willing to indulge her in details she didn't need to know. She looked at Jirka critically, then up at Yeong. Before she could speak again, though, Yeong beat her to it, "We are heading to dinner now, so we'll have to cut this a bit short. I'll give you a call later."

Stella huffed, not seeming pleased with Yeong turning down her attention. Without a word, Yeong turned and continued walking, but Stella held Jirka back for a moment. "He's just going to toss you aside like the rest of his playthings he brings around. What makes you so special?" she hissed, the jealously clear in her tone.

Yeong paused his steps when Jirka wasn't right behind him. While he hadn't heard what Stella said, he could only imagine the nasty attitude it came with. She was a spoiled daddy's girl, something that turned Yeong off quite a bit. He tilted his head, glancing over his shoulder. "Coming, Jirka?" he asked, giving him a small smirk. He wasn't dating Stella, after all. He could do as he pleased for the time being.

"Fine by me," Jirka notes, not even bothering to conceal the bitterness that laces his tone. He follows just a step behind Yeong, because not only is that what he's used to, but he's in an unknown environment. He's not about to go humiliating himself by getting impossibly lost in this maze of a casino. He's never been gifted with navigation. Unlike some people he knows, he isn't quite attuned to his internal compass just yet. There are armed men practically everywhere he looks, which doesn't frighten him just yet. After all, he's a guest, and there would be an awfully messy affair if he managed to get shot. He's prickly, but he's not hostile. Jirka is never one to search for violence and only reciprocates. His sister is more… proactive, often wanting to jump the gun and dispose of a threat before it can cause a true problem. Jirka can't help but disagree. It's one of the few topics where he's actually the levelheaded one of the duo.

A sharp voice catches his attention, nearly as sharp as his own, which is quite hard to come by in the States. They're so close to the restaurant, which only makes their sudden stop irritating. She's at least somewhat fashionable, but the red lipstick is quite tacky. She should opt for a more neutral color to compliment her eyes better. Yeong greats her with a strained familiarity, causing Jirka to arch a brow unimpressedly. Does this man sleep around so much that he can't help but run into a former bedmate in his own casino? It's pathetic, really. How much dignity could he possibly have left to spare? Jirka doesn't listen to their short interaction, training his eyes at the security measures and mentally calculating exactly where a blindspot could be and what software they could potentially run on.

Before he knows it, Yeong offers a curt dismissal and pushes on, Jirka right on his heels before a grip snags his arm. Jirka's about to voice a refusal, but the ex-girlfriend is in his face with a warning, one that Jirka couldn't care less about.

"Oh, I'm not special, darling," Jirka says smoothly, rolling his eyes from behind the wire frames of his glasses. "Trust me, I can't wait to be done with this deal and out of his life," Jirka drawls, wishing that he had a shot or a cigarette. For it being nearly dinner time, it's still far too early to deal with this dumpster fire. Americans are weird. They're pushy and have no boundaries. What happened to privacy? What happened to being able to simply walk a place without being scrutinized? "Now if you don't mind, I have an agonizing night to get over with." He pulls his arm from the woman's grip and steps forward to walk in line with Yeong.

"This place better be worth my time," Jirka grumbles as he hands his jacket off to the hostess at the door. "And you better be able to put your damned money where your filthy mouth is." Becoming quite accustomed to a disgusted expression around Mister Navarro, Jirka practically sneers as they take their seat in the nicest area of the restaurant.

The look of disbelief on Stella’s face was rich. Normally, people knew who her father is due to looking like a spitting clone of him, only female. She had glanced to Yeong, waiting for him to but in and shut Jirka down, but he didn’t. She turned her nose up, a sneer on her face as she walked back towards the buzzing energy of the casino. Clearly, she hadn’t taken a liking to Jirka’s words.

Yeong, on the other hand, loved it. Once she was gone and they made their way into the restaurant, he began laughing. He practically doubled over as he did so, placing a solid hand on Jirka’s shoulder. “Fuck, the look on her face,” he spat between giggles, shaking his head as he slowly straightened. “She’s been such a thorn in my side ever since my parents began discussing a possible marriage arrangement to her. Too clingy, we’ve only slept together twice that I can remember. I hate those types of people. Just because my parents want me to marry her, she thinks she has some sort of claim over who I see.”

People who got attached, people who assumed sex and romance were forever intertwined. Yeong hadn’t had a proper relationship since his early twenties, and after what he considered to be a shit storm, he’d never again settle down. He had been a fool, falling for that woman’s charm and looks. It only served to end in flames after he found she had taken a large sum of money and ran off. He’d never heard from her, though he never even tried to track her down. He knew that she would be found if his men looked, but he wanted to bury that relationship deep in the back of his mind. Since then, he slept around. He usually didn’t spend more than three nights with the same person. Stella had been right about him growing bored easily, and it seemed that the same fate of all his past flings had fallen upon her.

The pair sat in a private area, one reserved for the Navarro immediate family and other exclusive guests. They were alone there, save for the two armed guards who stood inside the room. All he offered them was a nod and a flick of his fingers, and they left the room. Jirka and Yeong were alone once again. “Have you had much authentic Hispanic food? The chef is one of the best in Spain. I swear that he’s never made a bad dish in his life,” Yeong said with a chuckle.

They sat across from each other at the table, the white cloth covering it pressed neat and clean. The restaurant was on the higher end side of things- as high end as good Hispanic food could get, at least. “I think the only place that has him beat is this local restaurant a few miles into the city. Owned by some elderly Hispanic couple, some really cute shit,” he rambled, it becoming clear that he seemed to enjoy talking, “They make the best enchiladas I think I’ve ever had. Tastes just like my moms home cooking. You’ll have to go sometime while you’re in the States. It’s a shame they don’t get much business.”

Jirka hums, watching as the woman scuttles away to do… well, whatever she is to do. Gamble her trust fund away, perhaps. "I'm lucky that my mother doesn't care." Mostly because he hasn't had much luck. "My father used to, but he always had bigger problems to deal with than thinking about another heir." He tucks his lips between his teeth before shaking his head. "Eliska does her fair share of dating around for the both of us." Currently, she's dating a tall, broad man who plays in some sort of American sport. His name is noticeable, but not quite phenomenal, hence why Jirka doesn't bother to remember it. He's nice enough, but Jirka can see through the false smile that he always wears. Oh, if only he knew what he was trying to get himself into. If only he knew how dirty the money to the Kolinski name truly is. He's handsome, yes, but not nearly handsome enough to tempt Jirka. Not that… well, not that he would even be tempted by a man in the first place, but he's also never been tempted by a woman. He must be temptless or delusional or entirely blind. Or maybe some fourth option that he hasn't yet considered.

The restaurant is filled with patrons with shiny jewelry and plastic smiles. Even the plates look to cost a small fortune, and Jirka has no doubt that the wine being served has been imported straight from the finest French vineyards. The hostess weaves them through rounded tables until they arrive at a much quieter section of the restaurant, one with an open bar and patio seating, though the evening is growing chilled. They sit inside with Jirka across from Yeong. With Jirka's back to the entry.

"I eat whatever our chef cooks," Jirka responds disinterestedly, picking up a fork to inspect in the sunlight. "She gets irritated if we don't." Which is mostly the truth. She gets irritated when Jirka doesn't provide proper feedback, which is unfortunate because he never really quite knows what to say to appease her. One time, he said that there had been too much salt and she got defensive. Another time, Jirka asked for more and she thought he was being facetious. Since then, Jirka's just nodded and said that it was acceptable, which seems to be the only sort of praise she'll accept without question. Maybe it's because she's a woman. Maybe it's because Jirka is dense. Maybe it's some other random factor, but he's never been able to figure her out while his mother and sister have seemingly no issue doing so.

It's a well-known fact that Jirka is by no means a conversationalist. He's bad at transitioning topics and he's worse at keeping others engaged. The best he gets is late-night gossiping sessions with Eliska, and even then it's her mostly rambling with Jirka's occasional yet jabbing insult. It's now, also, becoming a well-known fact that Mister Navarro loves the sound of his own voice, maybe even more than his own reflection. About halfway through his chatter, Jirka zones out entirely, watching the select few patrons who are allowed in such private areas of the restaurant. At one point, a waiter arrives to ask for their orders, and Jirka's suddenly very aware that he hadn't even looked at the menu. "Whatever he's eating," Jirka says flippantly before returning his attention to the condensation bubbles on the outside of his water glass. He has to brush the hair from his eyes for a moment, wishing that he had a headband or a hair tie to push his bothersome locks back for even a moment. He's in need of a haircut, but he hasn't quite found a barber he's trusted just yet. He'll have to ask Eliska for her recommendations. She always seems to know who is the best. Her list of contacts is endless.

Yeong's gaze on Jirka was heavy. The lack of conversation didn't deter him. If anything, it almost made him more determined to get something out of Jirka. He opened up the menu, though already had an idea of what he would be getting. He wasn't a picky eater by any means, but when he found something that he enjoyed, he tended to stick to it. His love for exploring different foods was there, though. Whenever he travelled with his parents, he always made sure to stop at different local eateries to try whatever food they had to offer. Most of the time, he left satisfied. The only thing he found that he wasn't fond of were many British foods. He felt that they didn't have enough kick or flavor to them compared to Hispanic dishes.

With a quick wave, the waiter hurries over to take the pairs order. Yeong was just fine with Jirka having whatever he was having. "We'll both have the lechon asado, then. Bring a bottle of the Domaine de la Romanee as well," he said with a smile. The waiter nodded, rushing off to the kitchen without another word. The bottle of wine was much nicer than the bottle of vodka was. Since Jirka didn't seem too interested in the quality of the vodka, he would have to hear his opinion on the wine. The bottle of wine was worth about thirty thousand US dollars, making it on the higher end of wines that they sold in that area of the bar. While not being much of a wine drinker himself, Yeong could still appreciate the craft that went into making it.

A moment later, the bottle was brought to the table. It was much less flashy than the vodka bottle had been. It had a delicate label, writing written in neat French lettering. The bottle was opened in front of the pair, the red wine being poured into both of their glasses. The bottle was then left at the table as the waiter went to check on the food. Yeong picked up the glass, taking a sip from it. "Do you drink much wine, or do you stick to vodka?" he asked Jirka, brows raised expectantly. If he couldn't get Jirka to make comments on his own, he would ask enough questions to fill the space.

Yeong thought back to Jirka's talk about future marriage. It was clear enough that Jirka wasn't seeing anyone. He wondered what sort of experience Jirka even had. "Are you a virgin?" he asked suddenly, not seeming fazed by the intrusive question. "Answer truthfully, now. It would make things go smoother later tonight."

Yeong wasn't a bit fan of virgins. They tended to be sloppy and clumsy, and not in an attractive way. For that reason, he tended to avoid them when picking out who he would spend his nights with. If Jirka was in fact a virgin, he would think over their plans for later. No matter how attractive Jirka was or what family he came from, something like that could be a dealbreaker for him. If anything, he would try Jirka out, and if things got messy, he could tell him to go on home early. He glanced up from his glass of wine, swirling the liquid around in the glass as he locked eyes with Jirka.

Like most, the menu does not fascinate Jirka. Food is… food. He has no true desire to fully devote his time to trying and finding the proper ones. If it does not give him food poisoning, then he will eat it. Unless it happens to contain peanuts, which Jirka discovered the hard way as a child that he was frighteningly allergic to. There's also wine, which Jirka supposes is a nice touch, but every good restaurant should have better wine. It's a given. Granted from the fancy label and simple bottle, it's an expensive strain, properly aged and transported here to America for top dollar. He tastes the wine carefully and shrugs. "I drink a little of everything. Usually, I prefer hard liquor or water." Beer is absolutely abhorrent. It tastes like nothing but rotting grains and fruit. This wine, however, could be a lot worse. Jirka purses his lips, only sparing Yeong a small glance and wondering if the man is trying to impress Jirka or flaunt his wealth, both of which are more than obnoxious. If this were any other situation, Jirka would've already been out the door and in the car, heading straight back to his uncle's residence to finish his book and hold his cat.

Speaking of his luxuries, Jirka finds his mind drifting from the present situation and more toward the plot of his book still resting on his nightstand. Tartuffe, a French comedy that was once banned for its seeming attack on religion. It's a fascinating read, especially since Jirka is not French nor is he religious, so he has no need to seethe over the content. It's a short read, one that Jirka was supposed to be finishing tonight but no. He has to be here, sitting across from an insufferable man and about to spend a lamentable night here in his hotel, on his turf with his men around every corner. It's all just a nightmare and a half and Jirka would sell his soul if it meant to leave earlier, but alas. He has a family to appease. He has a reputation to maintain.

One that might be tarnished the second Yeong opens his big, dumb mouth.

Jirka nearly jumps at his shamelessness, how he can ask such a question so vocally in a public setting. For a moment he doesn't answer, just reeling in his utter disgust before he shakes his head. "No. I'm not." He's had his fair share of experiences, both in America and back in Czechia. He's been with women, experiences he spent without a single ounce of lust nor pleasure. He was with a man, back when he was younger and far more foolish. The time itself was… one of the better times he's had, but he woke up in the morning naked and alone. Though it had all been consensual, he had never felt more violated in his life. He was young and likely drunk. He made a terrible decision and now he lives with the consequences. Needless to say, it's been a while since he's had any sort of that type of action, but he doesn't mind. He's not usually one to tumble into bed with the first pretty thing he sees. "So I suppose this is where the night will be heading?" He takes a sip of his water glass first and then reaches for the wine. It's nice, an observation Jirka so begrudgingly gives, and it goes down smooth with just the right aftertastes left on the back of his tongue. He only takes one more sip before he pushes the wine away in favor of his water. "I assume that you're the one wanting to throw me around?" He spares the briefest of unamused glances to his biceps and cocky smile. "Just going off of context clues."

Yeong seemed pleased with not only Jirka's answer, but his reaction as well. Clearly, the question had surprised him. Yeong didn't care too much about being in a public space. He was shameless, yes, but confident enough for him to feel comfortable saying such things so casually. He didn't care about any glances or words it might earn him. In his position, he felt close to untouchable. Though, that was also due to the fact that he was always in eyesight of multiple armed men who were willing to open fire with something as simple as the snap of his fingers.

Though, that aside, Yeong was glad that Jirka wasn't a virgin. Jirka had brushed off his question about whether he had slept with a man before, so he really didn't know much about Jirka's past experience. He had a feeling that if he asked, he wouldn't get a proper answer or any answer at all. So, he would have to assume that Jirka hadn't been with any men before and not get his hopes up too much. It didn't matter much anyways, Yeong would be the one taking the lead in the end. He chuckled when Jirka made a guess about what they would be doing after dinner. "Wasn't that obvious? I thought I've made myself clear with my intentions," he said, elbow resting on the table with his chin propped up on the back of his hand.

The questions about Yeong's taste in bed made him laugh. He could see why that would be assumed. While he was the dominant type, he wasn't a sadist. He could play a little rough, but causing any actual harm to a person could get him in trouble, so he avoided it. "Do you want me to throw you around?" he asked, raising a brow. He could do something like that, if Jirka was into it. It wouldn't be difficult at all, given how slim Jirka looked compared to his own muscular build. He took another sip of his wine, pointer finger tapping rhythmically on the glass.

"You know, I'm not some monster. I won't force you to sleep with me if you don't want to. I'm not into that sort of thing," Yeong commented. He still had some sort of morals, as surprising as that seemed in the current moment. He wasn't into his partners putting up a fight or complaining during sex, so if that were to happen, he would back off immediately and send them home. If Jirka didn't want to sleep with him, he would leave the man alone in his room for the night. "I only thought it would be nice for us to grow… close. We will be working closely with each other thanks to this deal, after all. What better way to get to know someone than to sleep with them?"

(sorry i disappeared! i graduated yesterday lol)

"I was just ensuring that we were on the same page," Jirka notes with a bored tone as he shifts his gaze past Yeong's face and into the background characters behind him. They all speak quietly, but Jirka notices the uneasy glances that they occasionally send Yeong's way. They wouldn't dare approach him, not without a hoard of armed bodyguards swooping in with rifles raised and fingers on the trigger. Jirka studies the area, studies how the suited men in black stand with taught shoulders and still hands. Though they are unmoving, Jirka knows they're paying incredible attention. Even if he was feeling particularly violent, he wouldn't be able to slide the steak knife through Yeong's ribs without instantly being shot down. Alas, luckily enough for both of them, Jirka is not a fighter in the physical sense. He couldn't win a physical fight even if he tried. "I don't like uncertainty," he states with a certain firmness, one of the few facts he's revealed of himself in the entire visit.

With a sigh, Jirka takes another sip of his water. "I never said that you were," he answers. "You've been a hospitable enough host. I wouldn't expect you to renege on that now." He twirls a fork between his finger and the table, watching it with a moment of rapt interest before returning his attention to Yeong. "I have my end of the bargain to hold up. It was one night with you. It's your hotel, your turf, your night." He runs his tongue over his teeth. "You're in charge and I trust that you won't abuse that power just yet." He deliberately chooses not to answer the question about being thrown around because he doesn't know. It's been a few years since he's been in, well, a situation quite like this one. It's been even longer since he's been with a man. He tries not to think about what that night was. It's full of uncomfortable, clashing emotions that Jirka would very much rather lock away for a long time than learn to deal with again.

"Close," Jirka responds with a sigh. Close, his brain echoed, wondering exactly why he and Eliska agreed to go to this negotiation in the first place. They're fine without Navarro's arms. They're fine without this connection. They're fine working as they always have without having to deal with any sort of messy situations, much like one that Jirka is slowly getting himself into. It's a web and a spiral and Jirka knows that he won't be getting out any time soon. No strings attached sounds quite nice on paper, but this paper comes with his signature with a massive arms deal that'll either destroy the Kolinskis or finally put them on the map in America which… may be a double-edged sword. After all, the man who killed Jirka's father is still roaming somewhere and who's to say that he won't track down the heirs next?

Though he's had the thought before, though it often comes in the middle of the night when he's trying to sleep, it never fails to send a chill down his spine. His expression shifts momentarily, eyes widening from their usual disinterest and his back straightening before he's relaxed again, almost slouching but not in any sort of undignified way. His mother would have his head if he saw how he was treating his host but, well, Jirka believes that he's allowed to be a little bit of a nuisance.

"You're right," Jirka says, drawling his voice with dripping sarcasm so he doesn't sacrifice his pride too much at the admission. "Close physically, mentally." A pause. "Emotionally. I wouldn't be surprised if you used these sorts of tactics on every pretty face that walked through your office." Jirka's well aware of his own beauty, it's own sort of cold demeanor and icy expression. He takes good care of his hair and skin, but he doesn't quite glow like Eliska somehow manages to do.

(it's ok! congrats on graduating!!)

Jirka was strangely trusting of Yeong, or at least, that was what it sounded like. They just met, and Yeong was a cartel heir. Jirka was confident enough to trust that Yeong wouldn't do anything unruly to him that night in their hotel room. For all he knew, Yeong could kill him upon entering the room after the prospect of a false deal. He watched Jirka's expression and posture seem to shift for just a moment, and he wondered what exactly was on his mind. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, brows raised as he spoke.

The comment about Yeong bringing any pretty face back to that hotel room made him laugh. He straightened in his seat, elbow slipping off the table as he rested his hands back to his lap. While he had slept around a decent amount, it was rarely with members from other organizations. That was risky business and something that was completely frowned upon by his parents. If word got back to them about what he was doing with Jirka, he would certainly be in a bit of trouble with them. The people he slept with were lower-level individuals associated with the cartel and their connections. Familiar territory, one might say.

"I don't tend to do this, actually, no," Yeong corrected, "I don't think I've ever slept with someone I'm actively trying to start business relations with. You just happened to catch my eye enough to be the first. Felicidades."

Yeong had been about to say more, but the waiter was returning to their table with the food. Their plates were placed in front of them, and the waiter left as quickly as he came. On the plates was an assortment of what appeared to be meat. It was a roasted pork that had been marinated in a garlic-citrus mojo. The pork was shredded on the plate, leaving comfortable bite sized pieces. It was lightly cooked the night before. Usually, it was left to marinate in the mojo overnight before it was roasted the next day. It was roasted for about four hours, leaving the pork tender enough to practically melt on the tongue. Really, it wasn't an all that fancy or extravagant meal, but the time that went into making it was what made it impeccable. On the side, it was served with Spanish style rice and an avocado salad. The rice was cooked with a mixture of spices, onion, bell peppers, and tomato, leaving it plenty flavorful. The avocado salad was made with avocado, diced tomatoes, onions, and a lime dressing.

"You'll have to know what you think of it. I can assure you that the chef spent many hours making it," Yeong hummed, picking up his fork to stick it into the pork. He placed it into his mouth, tasting the flavors on his tongue. He would have to go and speak with the chef to let him know how well he did with the meal.

(aaaaaa thank youuuu)

Jirka takes Yeong's question as confirmation that he saw such a meager shift in demeanor, one that Jirka usually keeps so close to his chest. He grits his teeth, his eyes hardening to something even colder than their usual stare. "It's none of your business," he answers icily. His own lingering fear of repeating his father's fate is like lead in his heart, often beating into his veins at the most inopportune of times. It's a fear that he hasn't even shared with his sister because his paranoia does not need to be her own. It's Jirka's burden to bear. It's Jirka's nightmare alone. It was he who found his father's body. In a way, he's thankful that he spared his dear mother and sister from the horrid sight, but it tends to sneak up on him–most noticeably in the middle of the night and it leaves him with the paralyzing fear that he'll awake to find his father's corpse leaned back in his desk chair, just like he had back in his home office. The fact that it had been a home office was… terrifying to think of. The killer snuck past their defenses and learned Tomas Kolinski's daily routine, knowing that he would be in his office right there in the morning, just an hour before his son would meet him–

Jirka wonders if he had also been a target that day. Of course, he's always had that horrifying thought. Of course, he's well aware of his wealthy and high-class position. Of course, he knows that his father has enemies upon enemies–

And then the food comes, which is a welcome distraction from his own mind. Jirka with his thoughts alone is quite a dangerous combination. That's why he likes books, reading, taking himself somewhere else. It allows Jirka Kolinski to fall away and allow Just Jirka to walk in the shoes of someone else for a few chapters. He loves his cat because she is demanding and will smack him if he zones out for too long, neglecting her food or head scratches.

"I'm honored that you found me acceptable enough. Especially over the gem that is my older sister. I can guarantee that she would be… far more willing," Jirka drawls, allowing his paranoia to fall away in favor of his more preferred outward persona. It's, well, somewhat of a lie, especially considering that Eliska is happily dating what's-his-name who plays some sort of sports-ball. Truly, Jirka is still somewhat reeling in the fact that Yeong chose him over, well, his sister–the one who has always been more social, more personable, more friendly, and more attractive. Jirka knows that he wasn't chosen solely because he's a man. There had been that altercation with that one woman in the casino who had… ties with Yeong that seemed a little less friendly and a little more physical. Or, well, maybe it was because Jirka put up somewhat of a fight. There are some people who love that, and Jirka would not put it quite past Yeong… in fact, it seems to be right up his alley.

To take his mind off thinking and more on the present–something Jirka probably needs to work on more–he takes a bite of the food, careful to take his time and sip some water. "It could be worse," Jirka admits with a shrug because he is not a liar. Not usually. "Nothing I would eat regularly." And then he has a taste of the sides, noting that he does not quite care for avocado no matter how nicely it's prepared. He looks off to the windows, to the people, to his water glass and practically everywhere except for where Yeong is sitting across from him. He doesn't want to make useless small talk. He doesn't want Yeong to ask questions that border on personal. He's content to sit in silence. He's content to watch the clock on the wall tick until the night is out.

(i typed up most of this reply then accidentally refreshed the page, i hate when that happens LMAO)

“Multitud duro,” Yeong muttered under his breath as he brought another bite of food to his mouth. Jirka was clearly a man of few words. The comment about him picking Jirka instead of Eliska had him thinking. Why did he decide to pick Jirka? Eliska would have clearly been much more willing to spend a night with him. That was clear, and he had noticed it. He had used it to his advantage with his compliments and smiles thrown her way. But no, he chose Jirka. He supposed it was because he liked the ‘hard to get’ attitude Jirka had. He also preferred men over women. That, along with Jirka’s attractive appearance, drew Yeong in. He wanted to see that stoic attitude crack because of him.

Surprisingly, Yeong finished most of the meal in silence. He had learned table manners growing up and knew it was impolite to speak with his mouth full. The food was better when it was hot, so he would rather eat now and speak later. Of course, Jirka made little comments about the food. He didn’t expect anything else from Jirka. “I understand. I know most Slavic people aren’t accustomed to the flavors of Hispanic food,” he commented, poking a bit of fun as he spoke. Really, he didn’t know much about Slavic foods, but he would say just about anything to see if he could get a rise out of Jirka.

Once finished with the food, Yeong set down the silverware accordingly. “Well, I think it’s time to go to our room,” he hummed, rising from his seat. He took a moment to dig through one of the pockets of his slacks and pulled out his wallet. He took a couple of large bills from it and dropped them on the table for the waiter. While he didn’t have to pay or even tip, he felt that it was right to do so. Tipping and paying the staff well was a necessary thing to do. It kept them around in the strange conditions of being employed by the cartel.

Yeong didn’t say much, only motioning for Jirka to follow once he had also risen. The walk to the hotel was a simple one. On the property, all of the locations were connected by a series of open hallways. The easy access kept people hanging around longer, which meant that they would spend more money. They reached the hotel lobby in a short amount of time. It was just as extravagant as the rest of the property, but appeared a bit more elegant. The surroundings were mostly made of dark, rich wood covered in carved detailings. Gold was sprinkled throughout, the color popping out nicely amongst the dark wood. Yeong approached the front desk, exchanging a brief conversation in Spanish. He had to make sure that his room was ready- and of course it was. Everything would be perfect when it came to him.

The walk to the room was just as short as the walk to the hotel. After taking an elevator to the top floor, they only had to walk down a long hall before they reached the door at the end of the hallway. Yeong opened the door, ushering Jirka inside first. The interior of the room was of modern architecture, consisting of mostly grey and white tones. Upon entry, they were greeted by an open living space with windows covering the stretch of the wall across from them. It provided a nice view of the city skyline, as well as the sun that had almost set. To their right was the kitchen area, containing updated appliances and large counter space. To their left would be a short hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom. The bedroom was large, containing a king sized bed with crisp grey bedding and a nightstand on each side. The bathroom was just as nice, having marble flooring, a large glass shower, and a jacuzzi style bathtub.

Yeong didn’t waste time with a tour of the hotel room, though. Once the door was shut and locked behind them, he moved to push Jirka up against a nearby wall. One of his hands was on the middle of Jirka’s ribs, pinning him up against the wall. Their bodies were close, and Yeong looked down at him with a dark glint in his brown eyes. “Well, we’re here. This is what you wanted, right? To get things over with?” he asked, tone low. The air around him felt heated, and he itched to take the stuffy turtleneck off.

(hate it when that happesn smh)

Jirka watches with his usual detached disinterest as Yeong conjures a small handful of bills to cover the meal and the tip. Of course, he takes at as a minor flaunt, but Jirka knows that he would do something similar if he were in Yeong's designer shoes. Now that the more, well, tame part of the night is over, Jirka mentally prepares himself for the rest of the evening. The hostess has his jacket ready by the time they reach the front, the blond man quietly thanking her as he slips on the dark blue coat and straightens the lapels. It feels nice to have another layer, just another small barrier to protect him from the world. As Yeong leads them towards the elevator, Jirka mentally tracks where they are and exactly how to disappear when he needs to. The staff is kind enough, but he's sure that they're only that way because they have a hefty paycheck and a loaded gun as their employer. The hospitality business has never been Jirka's forte. Perhaps more of Eliska's, but even Jirka knows that his sister would grow tired of dealing when guests and stupid questions after a short period of time

.Like everything else in this godforsaken hotel, the elevator is nice and smooth, taking them straight to the top floor without delay. Jirka checks his watch, his phone, and then the small clock installed in the elevator just to mark the time and begin the mental hourglass of how long he's obligated to stay before he can take his leave without causing a massive scandal between families. The doors ding open. The plush carpet muffles their footsteps as they enter through the door. There's a bedroom down a small hallway, no doubt the finest available for the penthouse suite and the heir to the Navarro fortune. Jirka's eyes trail to the couches, the counters, the walls, and even the city skyline outlining the golden sunset just outside.

Jirka's taking in the room, the wide windows and modern appliances, when he's pushed against the locked door, a face just a mere inch from his own. Jirka, trained in a cold demeanor, only raises an eyebrow as Yeong's dark eyes meet his. His breath is making the side of Jirka's face sticky. His hand on the middle of his ribs burns hot through the fabric. Tucking his lips beneath his teeth, Jirka wishes that he never put on his jacket. Things are going to get very warm very quickly and he doesn't trust the man cornering him against the wall to be too entirely gentle with his expensive clothes. Oh well, whatever he ruins, he'll replace. They should've signed something. A waiver.

"Well, we're here, aren't we?" Jirka responds quietly, trying not to focus on how close the other man is. Against his will, something warm is coiling in his gut. God, what is he going to do if he actually likes what happens? This is nothing but a deal, a transaction, something to secure his family for a little while longer until they figure out what's happening back home. Until they find out if it's safe enough to return to Czechia and to his life that he uprooted to live with his uncle in Miami. If this becomes… a regular thing, Jirka can only imagine the nagging comments his sister will make and the disproving glances his mother will send him. This isn't going to become normal, Jirka reassures himself. One night stand. "I trust you know how to take the lead?" Jirka leans his head against the wall, glasses slipping down his nose as he notes that his arms are somewhat pinned, unable to fix them and making the scene before him quite blurry. "Or do you need me to?" He tilts his head and purses his lips in what he hopes is a condescending enough manner.

(I assume the dms soon? akfhjfksjf)