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

Started May 20 by @Desvelarse pets

tune

I want to write some good old enemies to lovers, but spice it up a bit. There will be two characters. Mine is an extroverted man who has no shame about his sexuality. The other is a man who is rejecting the idea that he could be gay and actively avoids it. The two would meet, starting a weird sort of friendship where my character is trying to make moves on the other, constantly popping up to try and get him to accept the reality of who he is. All in all, want to write a lot of tension, them being annoyed with each other, and eventually them working through things. I will post my character below, but here are a few things to keep in mind before joining:

• This is a MATURE rp, meaning it will have nsfw themes. Please be 18+ to join (nsfw will be taken to PMs)
• I want to write with someone who can produce multiple paragraphs. If you can only write one or two, this might not be the rp for you.

My Character
Name: Yeong (yee-on) Navarro

Age: 25 years old

Gender: Male, he/him

Sexuality: Pansexual, heavy male preference.

Nationality/Race: Hispanic. He has Spanish citizenship and tends to go back for around a month each year in the summertime. At the moment, though, he currently lives in the US in Miami, Florida

Appearance: Based off of https://pin.it/2senv24hp and https://pin.it/7Ez9l5Jur and https://pin.it/4pwrStxxy. Height wise, he is 6’1. His build is more on the toned and muscular side, having abs. His hair is brown and curly, and he wears it decently styled. His eyes are dark brown, appearing almost black. His skin is tanned. He has tattoo sleeves starting at his wrists and going up his arms to his throat, ending at his jawline. His ears are pierced, and he tends to wear black or silver studs in those piercings. He tends to wear neutral or dark clothing that often will display his wealth (button downs, slacks, nice shoes, expensive watches, etc).

Personality: Tends to be more on the extroverted side. He is flirtatious and suggestive towards those that he is attracted to. He seems quite clever. He is loyal to the cartel. He is seasoned with knowledge having to do with street smarts. Around his friends and relationship partners, he is very open and loud, seeming like a complete open book, though he picks and chooses who he will give his deep opinions to. Talking about his negative emotions is not something he enjoys doing, and he will often brush it off with humor as a way to cope. He is a bit of a masochist as well, and not very gentle handed. He is possessive of his lovers and would much rather keep them all for himself. At times, he can be a tad manipulative, all to get what he wants. His ego can be quite large as well, and he has been described as a narcissist.

Likes: Soccer, parties, drugs and alcohol, sex, and social functions.

Dislikes: Law enforcement, rejection, blows to his confidence, and reality checks.

Hobbies: In some of his free time, he can be found playing soccer with his friends. Other days, he helps tutor low-income Hispanic/Latino kids English. Besides that, some basic things include exercise and cooking. Besides that, his general hobbies include partying and working out.

Background (optional): The ‘need-to-know’ basics are that he was born in Spain to the leaders of a Hispanic family cartel/mafia. He moved to the United States when he turned 13, and has lived in Miami, Florida ever since. He grew up being homeschooled but had attended a college in Florida. He has an accent due to English not being his first language, and during times of frustration it becomes more prominent. He is the heir to a popular hotel/bar/casino, which is used as a general front for the cartel. He is notorious for not wanting to be in relationships and would much rather stick to hookups.

Name: Jirka (Yeer-Kah) Kolinski

Age: 23, give or take a few months

Gender: Male for the most part, he/him

Sexuality: Don't ask him hard questions (very very gay in deep deep denial)

Nationality/Race: Jirka was born in Czechia and came to the United States with his mother when he was seventeen, predominantly Czech with a few smaller heritages thrown into his ancestry somewhere

Appearance: Jirka has pale blonde hair that he keeps about to the middle of his neck length wise. It has a natural wave to it and he's always meticulously ensuring that it looks good. He has pale blue eyes with pale blonde eyelashes. His eyebrows are a medium thickness. His lips are full and his jawline is pretty smooth. His skin is almost paper white and burns if he's in the sun for more than eight minutes and forty seconds (his sister timed it once). Conventionally, he's smoking hot, but his demeanor could not be more cold. He stands at roughly 5'10ish and is forever bitter that he did not inherit his father's strong Slavic genes to make him 6'6". He's always wearing crisp suits and polished shoes. He wears lots of silver rings, silver studded earrings, and occasionally sports a pair of wire-rimmed glasses because he is blind as shit. Style icon.

Personality: Jirka is a fairly reserved person, often opting to allow his sister to do most of the talking whenever they go into negotiations. However, his presence is always a noticeable one. Mobsters always seem to swear that the temperature drops whenever Jirka enters a room, but that's just a myth. He talks with a firmness and doesn't dance around the point. He's blunt and he's irritable, and nobody wants to see him irritated. He is also easy to fluster, but it takes a certain type of person to get underneath that cold shell of his. He's not really shy, he's just not huge fan of social interactions. He leaves the main negotiations to his sister, and if those don't go well, then he swoops in with a final offer that their partner would be damned to refuse. He's a man of ultimatums, often believing that it is his way or no way at all. He's not violent, but he's stubborn and he holds grudges for eternity. He is also very competitive. Once there is a challenge to his name or his honor, he has no choice but to take it up. He'll also never admit that he loves meeting somebody toe-to-toe. Anybody able to keep up with him he holds in a silent high esteem. He doesn't have very many relationships granted, well, women have never quite captivated him and the idea of men is entirely out of the picture (until it isn't). He also may or may not have some issues regarding his father, but that's a whole Pandora's Box. To keep the story short: he was constantly tossed aside and his father always favored his sister, who had always been bolder and far more dangerous.

Likes: Quiet mornings, a cup of well-brewed coffee, his pet Persian cat that he affectionately named Rosie, a decent book, winning, and (not to fall too far into Slavic stereotypes) some good vodka

Dislikes: Unnecessary noise, people comparing him to his father, his sister's boyfriend, dogs, and having his name insulted without merit (he doesn't mind it if people actually have the receipts to back it up, he takes it as a challenge, but when people insult him without evidence, it just gets annoying)

Hobbies: He loves to read in his private garden with his cat and the sunrise, having gossip sessions with his sister, making flower arrangements for his mother

Background: When Jirka was seventeen, shortly after his father was murdered in Czechia, Jirka's mother took him and his older sister to the states where they could lay low with their uncle until their empire rebuilds. Jirka comes from a wealthy family that runs an underground syndicate that specializes in weapons trafficking. Because their mother is not the technical head of the family, that falls to the joint responsibility of Jirka and Eliska, his sister two years his senior. Jirka has a fairly thick Czech accent that he masks when meeting new people. As of now, he resides in Miami on his uncle's large estate. He doesn't have a job, but he's constantly found in the more expensive areas of the city shopping for new clothes that he doesn't need. He does, however, have a certain air of mystery that has him on the invite list for all sorts of functions that he'll likely never show up to.

The Navarro family. One of the most well-known families in the cartel world. They do it all- from gun trafficking to gun trading. In the Spanish world, they are at the top. Outside of Spain, they are currently located in Miami, Florida. There, they have a large reach of companies and businesses throughout the United States. Using business as a front for cartel related activities is what has kept them difficult to break apart for many years. Their current headquarters was located in Miami. It was one of the most popular casinos in the United States. Along with being a casino, the property also held a joint luxury hotel and bar. They were all connected to each other, making it easy for clients and customers to travel between locations for quick access.

Usually, it was under full control of Hugo and Selena Navarro, the current heads of the family. Everything that had to do was the cartel was overseen and controlled by the married couple. Due to their close involvement with even lower-level activities in the cartel, they were constantly travelling. At the current time, they were overseas in Spain taking care of financial matters. That left the next person to take charge- their only son, Yeong Navarro.

Yeong Navarro had been involved in the cartel from an early age. His parents had never attempted to hide the family business from him like others would. He knew what his family did and how they got all of their money. That was how it was supposed to be in order for him to eventually become head of the family and the cartel. Being their only child, Yeong was the sole heir to the family's 'business'. It started off with him just being brought along to things. He would travel with his parents and watch as the cartel members did their dirty work. He would listen in on negotiations and conversations that his parents had with others, learning how to talk with others and get what they wanted to further expand the reach of the cartel.

It all led up to this moment. With his parents in Spain, Yeong would be the one to have a conversation about forming an alliance with another growing mafia. There had been no doubts about his ability to handle such a thing. Despite being outwardly charming, he knew just the right words to say to get things to go his way. He had a sly tongue, leading to him often being compared to a fox. That, along with his hard headedness and confidence, made him more than able to work something out with the mafia that would be visiting.

The meeting would take place at the casino on the third floor. There, they had built office spaces for the higherups. Yeong had been all too eager to get his own office space. It proved his status as next in line for the cartel. It solidified it.

That office was where Yeong was currently sat, waiting to meet the mafia members. He had been given a file a week or so prior that contained what information they could dig up on the family. It seemed to be a brother-sister duo- Jirka and Eliska Kolinski. While that left him at a disadvantage, having to talk with more than one person, he wasn't worried. He would do what he could to get good relations between the two families to help with dealings. They specialized primarily in dealing weapons, and a strong connection between the two families could largely increase profits, supply, and reach for both of them.

So, Yeong sat at his desk, leaning back in his office chair with his legs stretched out in front of him. He wore a black turtleneck- partially due to his parents nagging about not showing his large number of tattoos- and black slacks. Of course, he didn't trust the Slavic pair just yet. He had a 9mm handgun resting in a holster on his belt, along with a switchblade tucked down the side of his lower leg for easy access of he pulled his pant leg up a bit. It never hurt to be safe.

His mother insisted that this idea would be… beneficial, for lack of a better term. Jirka, of course, doesn't believe it, but he goes along with the scheme anyway. Why? Because he is a good brother and a good son. Wherever their mother wants them to go, Eliska will go, and that leaves Jirka to follow. It's not like Jirka doesn't trust his mother, no. It's just that… well, Teresa Kolinski has a history of jumping the gun or bailing too soon. She's never quite had the knack to time things correctly, not like Jirka's father could. Not like Jirka is training himself to. Because of course Eliska is perfect in every way, she has no issue sealing a deal at the proper time.

Father would be proud, Jirka notes mentally with a tad too much bitterness. Hell, it's his own head. He can be as bitter as he wants to be. And so he is. He follows just a step behind Eliska as they walk towards the hotel in which their business meeting will be held. Jirka keeps his eyes trained on the pavement, searching the intricate tile from behind the rounded lenses of his sunglasses. Despite the Miami heat, he's wearing a sport jacket over a button-up. His hands strain the fabric of his pockets, pockets that are clearly not meant to held Jirka's balled fists for very long but Jirka firmly believes that pockets should exist solely to hold his hands. The holster beneath his jacket is for everything else.

Eliska looks every bit of the Slavic royalty she is, with her wavy blonde hair tied up neatly on the top of her head. She wears a stylish pantsuit with a designer bag off her arm. Her heels clack rhythmically on the pavement as they approach the large glass doors to the hotel. It seems the doorman is about to ask their reason for entering, but Eliska flashes her gorgeous smile and informs the poor security that they're here on a business call, a meeting with one Yeong Navarro. Accented with her Czech consonants and the authority of her natural tone, the doorman ushers them inside with a flush. Whether it's from the heat, Eliska's smile, or the embarrassment of nearly screwing up the job, Jirka isn't sure. He doesn't care.

He thanks the little gods that the hotel lobby is well-regulated, the air conditioning pleasant on his reddened skin. The walk from their car to the hotel had hardly been ten minutes, and yet, Jirka's weak constitution already wants to die. Bitterly, he thanks his father for passing every good trait to his sister and leaving him the mere leftovers.

The elevator ride is tense, but only because Jirka had noticed several dozen armed guards, none of whom Jirka could take down single-handedly, not when their armed to the nines and practically twice his size. Eliska doesn't look nervous. She just checks her perfect lipstick in her compact mirror and slips it back into her bag. The elevator doors open with a ding. Jirka replaces his sunglasses with his wire-framed perscriptioned ones and waits for his sister to take the lead. She does, of course, and walks straight through the third-floor casino as if she had planned the place. Jirka takes a moment to study the poor souls wasting their life savings at the slot machines. He also takes notice of how they stiffen when they catch the eye of the siblings, a chill wafting through the sweltering Miami hotel.

"It's here, no?" Eliska asks aloud, though they both know that she's correct. "The office?"

"Looks right to me," Jirka muses quietly, leveling his sister with an unimpressed stare. She smiles, because she's always smiling, and pushes into the room without even knocking. Jirka's well aware that her boldness will likely get her killed one day, but it probably won't be today. The meeting is far too advantageous for both parties to bother killing one of the Kolinski siblings.

By the time Jirka shuts the door behind him, Eliska has already made herself at home in one of the chairs, staring down an impressively built man with a pistol strapped to his side. Jirka raises an eyebrow, making brief eye contact with who would have to be Yeong Navarro, and takes his seat at his sister's side, pushing his chair slightly behind hers to signify how she's the one running the conversation today. According to both Eliska and their mother, Jirka is her secretary. He is also the emergency contact. He's there to ensure that Eliska does not go wildly off the rails with her schemes. He's there as a balance to her boister, a down-to-earth presence to reign her in.

"Mister Navarro, I presume?" Eliska begins, lifting off her Czech accent as she reaches across the table to shake his hand.

Jirka, per usual, is silent. He watches the man with a sort of… reserved interest, tracing every muscle and feature he can with cold eyes. When he eventually reaches the man's face, he offers a wink in response. Oh, just shoot me, Jirka laments, already knowing what direction this meeting will be heading.

When the two siblings entered the office, it was clear who was more of the leader. Eliska held a strong stride, filling the room with a confidence that Yeong was pleased to see. Jirka, on the other hand, seemed like nothing more than a bodyguard to Yeong. Clearly, the family heir had been decided by their mother. As far as Yeong was concerned, he would direct most of the business talk to Eliska. Jirka, on the other hand, piqued his interest for other reasons.

Once inside, the door was shut behind them. Despite the large number of guards throughout the building, the three of them were alone in the room. Yeong wasn't worried on bit. The closest guards were the two that stood stationed outside of the office, ready to come in at a moment's notice. His dark gaze was settled on the siblings, and if he hadn't read up on their files, he might have assumed they were twins. Casualties would come at a later date, though. They had to focus on securing a deal in the first place if any relations were to continue.

Eliska extended a hand, and Yeong returned the greeting. He shook her hand, holding off on the Spanish greeting of exchanging kisses on the cheek. When he had reached out, his sleeve rode up in the slightest, exposing the tips of dark tattoos. He sat back in his chair once the handshake was finished, hands now folded on the desk. "I am, and you must be Eliska Kolinski. Might I say, you look as espléndida as your photos," Yeong said with a charismatic and toothy grin. He made no attempt to stifle his Hispanic accent. It wasn't so deep that he wouldn't be misunderstood, so he saw no need to stifle it.

Yeong's gaze shifted over to look at Jirka. Clearly, he had noticed the man's staring, and it amused him. How interesting. If it were a less serious situation, he would likely make a comment about Jirka practically undressing him with his eyes, but he refrained. The most he did was offer a wink and a smirk before looking back towards Eliska.

"I have heard quite a bit about your family. How does it feel getting to play out with the big dogs?" he asked with a small chuckle, head tilting to the side. As he spoke, he opened one of the draws of his mahogany desk and took out a manilla folder. He opened it up and sifted through a small stack of papers.

"I think we can all benefit from something through a bit of trade. We have a large stock of illegal weapons, but not much interest in them lately. Clients tend to come for us for our drugs, and that's happening now more than ever. For the right price, we would be happy to offer up some of our stock and large clientele to your family," he spoke, finishing with a small 'ah' as he found the few papers he had been looking for. He pushed them forward on the desk, closer for the siblings to see. The papers were various contracts, listing terms between the trade between the two families. They were long reads, but the details were quite important.

Yeong put the folder off to the side and shut the wooden drawer. "Where are my manners, though? Would either of you like something to drink? We have a wide selection of high-end liquors and other spirits quickly available to us," he hummed. It wouldn't take long, just a little message and there would be servers to hastily drop their drinks off then leave. Maybe if they got some drinks in their system, Yeong would get the chance to poke and prod at the siblings- but specifically Jirka, who was his usual type. He loved the people that played hard to get, almost as much as he loved the chase. Just by looking at Jirka, he could tell that he was going to have a lot of fun toying with him.

Eliska laughs at his flattery, which has red flags popping up in every corner of Jirka's vision. He's never liked her boyfriends. They've always been hulking and angry and claim to treat Eliska like a princess when Jirka can see through the lies and can only watch as they use her. Since they've been to America, however, Eliska's been much luckier on the aspect of men. Their father never pressured them to get married, but he had always been a more traditional man who liked to keep the business in the family. The Kolinski family fortune would move to Eliska's strongest child, and then to theirs. Jirka's always known that he wouldn't get full leadership, but alas, he supposes he can settle with a large share. Besides, who wants all of the stress leading an entire crime syndicate in both America and the Czech Republic.

"Oh thank you, Mister Navarro, I hope that the pictures did me justice," Eliska giggles and tilts her head, showing off what she believes to be her good side. If Jirka didn't know better, she could be a full-blooded girl from Miami based on her hidden accent and mannerisms. "I do say, you're not too bad yourself." Shameless, Jirka groans internally as his sister gives their host a painfully obvious once-over. "And I thank you for hosting me and my little brother. I'm sure that this meeting will prove to be… advantageous." At the last word, the Czech laces her voice, nearly dropping her tone a handful of pitches.

The big dogs– Please. Jirka could scoff. This Navarro clearly hasn't done his full research. Back in their home country, they were the "big dogs". Everybody feared Tomas Kolinski and his children. Everybody feared Tomas Kolinski and his connections. While Jirka hides his snarl, Eliska just smiles, crossing her legs and placing her hands neatly on her knees. "Ah yes, I'm afraid America is incredibly new–" as if they hadn't been living there for six years. "–and I'm happy to negotiate any offer that you present, Mister Navarro." Her voice is back to its American drawl. Her icy blue eyes sparkle as Yeong sets a small stack of papers on the desk. She takes them without hesitation, briefly looking over all of the terms and details of the offer before handing the papers back to Jirka.

Ah, the role of a secretary. Jirka doesn't hide his eyeroll as he accepts the papers and looks them over. The text is quite small and the documents are quite long, but nothing Jirka isn't trained for. He sifts through the information quickly, speed-reading and determining whether this deal would actually be beneficial or if Yeong is nothing but smoke and mirrors. A flash of dark ink momentarily catches his attention, Jirka pushing his glasses up on his nose as he spots the beginnings of a tattoo sleeve on Yeong's arm. He only watches for a moment before he returns his attention to the task at hand.

But then there's an offer for drinks, and Jirka can physically feel Eliska straightening with the promise. "Drinks?" she asks with that electric smile of hers. "You're far too kind, sir. Perhaps any, well, I hate to play into the stereotype you Americans have for Slavs, but I haven't a good vodka shot in quite some time. I'm afraid what we had back home is nothing compared to what they sell here."

If there's no valuable strain of vodka, Jirka might just leave. Again, he allows Eliska to do the speaking as he turns the page, momentarily marveling at the sheer amount of arms that were being offered. But it is a trade. Jirka has to wonder if its money or… other goods on the table. Jirka mentally notes the number of goods, the types, and then the timeframe that means that they'll have to have another meeting with Mister Navarro here.

"Jirka, dear." That's Eliska, turning in her chair to draw her brother from his research. "Would you care for a shot?"

"Only if it's worth my time," Jirka answers with a curl of his lip before he's back with his head down, blond hair falling in his face with glasses slowly slipping down the straight bridge of his nose.

Of course, Yeong knew about the family’s importance overseas. He was well aware of their influence in the illegal weapons trade in various Slavic countries as well as Europe as a whole. The United States, though, was different. The demand for guns was high, and due to bordering on Mexico as well, the trade was extremely profitable. Everyone wanted to sell their stock in those countries, but because there were so many sellers, that meant a lot of competition. It was exactly why they needed each other. Yeong could give them the access to clientele in both the United States and Mexico, even having connections in South America. The Kolinski family had plenty of money to offer, which was exactly what the Navarro’s were after.

The invite for a drink was accepted, and Yeong wasted no time picking up his smartphone from the desk and quickly sending a message. He chuckled at Eliska’s comment about stereotypes. He wasn’t one to judge. When someone thought of a Spanish cartel member, their idea would be decently close to him- minus all the grisly scars and teardrop tattoo. He did drugs, went to parties, and slept around quite a bit. “I’m no better. My liquor of choice is tequila,” he related with a laugh. His laugh was a pleasant one, one that he found made others want to laugh along with him.

Then, Jirka finally spoke up. Yeong’s eyes snapped to meet his quickly, appearing curious and intrigued. “He finally speaks,” he commented in a teasing sort of tone, lips quirking into a smirk. Just as he thought, Jirka would be perfect for the chase. Already he was catching a bit of attitude over alcohol when most would thank him. He brushed it off, keeping a cool composure in the face of what could have been considered disrespect.

A moment later, a knock on the door sounded, and in stepped a younger Hispanic woman carrying a tray. On the tray were three full size glasses and a bottle of what had to be the vodka. Yeong hadn’t spared any detail picking out the vodka to serve to the siblings. The bottle was ornate in and of itself. It was tall, taking the shape of a woman’s torso and head towards the top of the bottle. The seal glinted under the warm light of the office, being made of 24k gold. The woman set the tray down carefully on the desk between the three steadily before straightening.

“Gracias, Alyssia. Estás excusado ahora. Ve a tomar un descanso por la noche,” Yeong thanked her, that charming smile back on his lips. Her face turned a noticeable shade of pink as she nodded, thanking him before hurrying off and out of the office.

Yeong cleared his throat, reaching out to grab the bottle. “It is from Vavoom Vodka. Crafted in Milan, Italy, it’s a limited edition collectors item priced at around one thousand US dollars. What better use for it than now?” he said. As he spoke, he broke the golden seal, twisting off the cap and placing it on the desk. He poured a shots worth in each of the three glasses before setting the bottle back down on the tray.

“I hope it is to your liking,” Yeong said to the both of them, though his gaze was set on Jirka. He picked up his own glass, bringing it to his lips and tipping it back. The alcohol went down smoothly, and he drank it without any sort of wince or cough. He placed the glass back down, hands folding as he watched on as the siblings tried it.

"I only speak when an intelligent conversation entices me," Jirka looks up to the man, glasses down on his nose as he glances over them. "Or when I need to decline your subpar brews." He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, but returns to his readings. He doesn't care to be distracted. This Yeong Navarro is surely having fun trying to.

Eliska laughs, and Jirka hears the undercurrent of anxiety, but she brushes it off by patting her younger brother's shoulder. Jirka's nose wrinkles. He's never quite liked it when he's touched unexpectedly. "Forgive my little brother and his tone. He was never truly taught his manners." Her eyes sparkle with a tight-lipped smile. It quickly fades into a much more neutral one as a guest enters the room. Eliska straightens her already ramrod posture as she watches the woman set the liquor and matching glasses down on the table. She watches with a rapt interest, an interest that is clearly not shared with her brother.

Jirka, personally, does not care how much Yeong's fancy vodka costs. His favorite brew back home had been the one from an old man's basement. He always claimed that it was merely a hobby, but Jirka knew that his alcohol sold for thousands and thousands more due to the high alcohol content and incredible buzz. The old man and his vodka are one of the few things that Jirka misses about Czechia. Another happens to be his childhood home. A third is his father, who he never quite got to make proud before he was murdered right there in the home office. Jirka had recently turned seventeen, recently obtained an opportunity to be seen in his father's eyes. He awoke early in the morning to meet Tomas Kolinski in the office, but what he found was a gruesome sight. He can still taste the bile like it was the slash across his father's throat.

With a grit jaw, Jirka returns to the documents, flipping the page to absorb what awaits. Eliska thanks Navarro kindly for his hospitality as she accepts a glass, knocking back the liquor like they were trained to. She slides her tongue across her lips, savoring the taste before nodding. "I'm afraid it's nothing like back home, but its quite good for what we've seen thus far in America." She smiles and wipes her hands on the fabric of her crisp pantsuit. She looks to the third glass, and then to her brother, with his nose and glasses still engrossed in the trade documents.

"Jirka–" she seethes quietly. "Co to sakra děláš?"

"Čtení." Is his answer.

Eliska doesn't find him amusing. She scoffs and shakes her head, trying her best to plaster her plastic smile back onto her face. "Again, Mister Navarro, I apologize for my little brother's behavior. He never knows when to accept what's given to him."

"I don't want his poor liquor," Jirka responds with a curled lip, straightening to his full height to stare at the man across the table, finding that he's already staring right at him. Something crawls up Jirka's spine, but he chooses to ignore it and not think any deeper as to what it could be. "But I do have some qualms with the trade negotiations you've laid out." He slaps the documents back on the table and scoots his chair so it's equal with Eliska's. "Your price is a measly one, and I'm nearly offended that you think that we could accept something so modest. Back in Europe, these are on nearly every street corner and I refuse to allow my father's enterprise to fall so low to accept such… how do you say in English?" He takes a moment to think. "Ah, yes. Half-assed goods." Finally, he pushes his glasses up to rest firmly against his face.

"I'm open to renegotiating at a lower price, or for better options. I won't accept the details outlined here." A momentary snarl graces his lips, but he tames it away. "Those are my terms."

Eliska is silent for Jirka's small speech, sitting back in her chair to allow her brother to pick apart the details before them. That's how they've always operated. Eliska is pleasant and sweet, ever the one to make their potential partner relaxed and comfortable, but then Jirka swoops in with the facts and the ultimatums. This is when he's most frigid. This is when the room temperature drops with the lilt of his accent and the authority of his words.

Yeong didn’t mind Jirka’s attitude at all. No, in fact- he loved it. It made it all the better once he was finally subdued. It reminded him of a time when he was a teenager. His parents had multiple estates, and one of them was a large horse farm in Kentucky. His family held the ownership to multiple championship racers, along with taking in new horses to break in. That was Yeong’s favorite part. He would get to meet the wild horses, bucking and kicking with all their might. He loved a challenge. The reward of finally breaking a wild stallion, making it easy to ride and friendly, was one of the more satisfying things in life. His opinion about people matched.

Though, Yeong pretended to at least hear Jirka out. He let the man have his tantrum, listening in quietly. His mannerisms were different. He dug into the pocket of his slacks, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. While his gaze was on Jirka, it was clear his attention was elsewhere. He took out a cigarette, placing it between his lips and lighting it up. He could practically hear his mother scolding him for doing so, rambling on about the risks of lung cancer and other diseases. While he knew the risks, he didn’t care. The present hit he got from taking a draw of a cigarette was easier to focus on than future consequences. He took a draw of the cigarette, holding it between his pointer and middle finger. The smoke was blown out in the siblings direction, a lazy smile on his face.

“I understand if your family can’t afford it. It is such a high price, after all,” Yeong said with a false sigh of sympathy. Jirka had seemingly struck a cord, and it was like a switch was flipped. Gone was the flirtatious and charming personality, leaving something a bit more heavy and meticulous. As he spoke, he stood from the desk, cigarette placed back between his lips as he strolled around to the other side of it.

Yeong ended his walk behind the two, though didn’t take any further action. His back was to them, a sign of confidence that they wouldn’t try anything. He blew out a bit more smoke before chuckling. “Ah, your father, that’s right,” he drawled. Despite not facing them, the smirk on his lips could be heard loud and clear. “Maybe your papi didn’t prepare the two of you enough to handle something like this before he departed. Though, I dislike speaking ill of the dead, so I’ll refrain from blaming him further. Descansa su alma.”

The man spun around, hands moving to suddenly rest on the back of each of the siblings chairs. His cigarette, which had been forgotten, was still between his fingers and resting a bit too close to Eliska’s blonde hair. “But, I suppose I’m due for a bit of charity work,” he hummed thoughtfully, grin turning toothy and sly again. “I’ll lower my price, on an added condition- Jirka here spends just one night with me.”

By the tone of his voice, it was clear that Yeong thought of this as a game. Everything was a game to him due to his position of power. People were just chess pieces for him to move around and eventually give up when he lost interest in them. The idea was vague. Spending a night with him could mean a lot of things. It could mean just having a few drinks together one-on-one. There were also more intimate undertones if someone wanted to look at it that way.

“Just one night, in exchange for a large reduction of payment. Doesn’t that sound nice” Yeong added, voice low as he moved to being his cigarette back up to his lips. He feigned surprise at the closeness of it to Eliska’s hair. “Ah, wouldn’t want to light up that beautiful hair of yours.”

Jirka watches with steady interest as Yeong's expression goes from carefree to something… well, far more dangerous. He produces a cigarette and takes long drags, the smell one that Jirka recognizes from his own supply, though it has been far too long since he's actually smoked. He stopped a few years ago, after his mother complained about the smell for the last time and ordered her son to get over his father's murder in much more healthy ways.

He'd be willing to excuse Yeong's nonchalance, but then his father, his dead and murdered father gets dragged into this and Jirka doesn't hold back his sneer. "You vile creature, our enterprise could buy yours tenfold." Jirka isn't exactly sure how true of a fact that is, but he knows that the Navarro family business doesn't have ties in Slovakia, Hungary, Germany, and Russia like the Kolinski's do. They don't have the high-caliber buyers that shake Eliska's hand and forget that Jirka exists. The only reason why they're even considering the Navarro trade offer is to establish something more here in America until their contacts in Czechia finally solve his father's murder and deem it safe for the siblings to return to their home country.

With his teeth grit, he's prepared to snap back, but Eliska's sharp nails dig into the bare skin of his wrist. A warning. Jirka's not supposed to do anything that could get them compromised. He's not supposed to be making enemies, which is why he supposes that Eliska is here to calm him down. She's the bolder of the two, but she's far more levelheaded. Jirka knows it's an admirable attribute. Jirka knows that it's part of the reason why his father favored her over him.

He could leave it. He could leave it be and just take what's been given to him, but then there's the offer. Jirka's stomach churns with mixed feelings, but he chooses rage over them all. He stands abruptly, pushing the chair back against Yeong's legs. "You've offended me for the last time, Navarro–" Jirka sneers, pushing a finger into the expensive fabric of Yeong's turtleneck. "I hadn't had many expectations walking into your fancy hotel, but somehow you haven't managed to meet a single one."

"Jirka–" Eliska tries, but he ignores his sister's pleas. No longer is this about her or their mother or even the empire their father worked so hard to build.

This is Jirka's fight now. "You sicken me, sir." His lip curls. He pushes his glasses up once more, allowing him better focus to stare into the dark eyes of his opponent, of the man that could still potentially become their partner at the price of Jirka's dignity. His eyes only shift when he finds the cigarette too close to Eliska's hair. Without hesitation, Jirka pulls it from Yeong's grip and twirls it between his own fingers. Watching the smoke dance for only a moment before returning Yeong's intense stare. "I can't believe that you though that I–"

"Jirka," and that's Eliska once more, her voice bordering on the plead that he so rarely hears from his frighteningly independent sister. His intensity fizzles as he looks to his sister, just two years his senior but forced to grow up so much faster. "Nemyslím si, že se z toho dokážeš probojovat."

Her admission is like a shot of ice to Jirka's blood, traveling to chill his spine and his heart.

"Fine," Jirka seethes, looking to Yeong to take a drag of his cigarette. "One night."

Yeong barked out a laugh when Jirka got riled up. There it was- that bucking bronco sort of fierceness he wanted to see. He took one step back when Jirka shot up from his chair, standing still as the shorter man moved to get into his personal space. He looked down at Jirka, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. He was enjoying every second of the outburst. While things were going as planned, things were going exactly in a direction that he wanted. He would receive a scolding from his parents for cutting the price, but he would reassure them that he gained access to something much more valuable- the chance to have Jirka pinned right under his thumb. A new chess piece on the board.

The finger pressed to Yeong’s throat made his stomach flutter in a pleasant way. Adrenaline, he assumed. It would be all too easy to draw his handgun in response to the disrespectful act. After all, he invited the pair into his home, his territory. Certainly Jirka wasn’t dumb enough to think that with a snap of his fingers, armed guard with semi automatic weapons wouldn’t be breaking down the office door. That would ruin the fun, though.

The cigarette was swiped from Yeong, and he watched with interest as Jirka took a drag of it. He smiled, pleased with the simple action. His gaze shifted to Eliska as she seemed to try and calm her brother down. As pretty as she was, she would be too easy for him. Jirka put up a fight, and a fight was what Yeong wanted.

So, when Jirka reluctantly agreed to the terms, Yeong couldn’t help but show his satisfaction. “Not so hard to say yes, was it?” he hummed before one of his hands shot up, taking ahold of Jirka’s wrist that had the finger touching him. His grip was practically bruising, and for the moment, he showed no signs of letting up. He tilted his head down, lips close to Jirka’s ear as he spoke low enough to be out of Eliska’s earshot.

“Don’t worry, juguete. I’ll make sure you learn to come back to me when I call. You won’t be satisfied with just one night,” he whispered, before straightening, smiling down at Jirka in a friendly way despite the words that just left his lips. Only then did he drop Jirka’s wrist, after moving his finger away from his neck.

“Now that the terms have been agreed to, I’ll have my attorney write up the new terms and get that sent to you right away,” Yeong directed to Eliska, stepping away from Jirka and back to sit at his desk. He poured himself another glass of vodka, tipping it back with the same ease he had the first time. “I think we are all done here.”

Yeong clicked his tongue, tilting his head to the side a bit. “Well, you’re done here for now,” he said to Eliska before directing his attention to Jirka, “You, stay. Let’s discuss a bit more of the details of our night together, shall we?”

Though he hides it well, Jirka can't help the stutter his breath makes as Yeong so easily grabs his wrist in a near-bruising grip. The pistol hidden within the jacket of his suit calls to him, tells him to stop messing around and to get rid of the adversary before they can take their next move–but Jirka already agreed to the terms. He would be a hypocrite and a liar if he were to go back on them with such a brutal manner. So instead, he lifts his chin and doesn't move, not even when Yeong moves so closely as to whisper in his ear. As expected, they were nothing close to the sweet nothings in the movies. These words were dripping with purpose, ones that rattle Jirka's bones and set his nerves on fire, but with rage or something else he hasn't quite determined.

This is for your mother, your sister, and everything your father wanted this company to be, Jirka has to silently remind himself as Yeong pulls away with a certain fire in his eyes. Jirka matches it equally with his own icy demeanor, not budging even beneath the most dire of flames.

Jirka looks to his sister, sitting with her back straight and her hand buried within her handbag, without a doubt wrapped around the revolver she keeps so shiny and so neat. Jirka has no doubt that she would've fired, would've taken out the heir without question for making such a dangerous move against her little brother. With a hint of fright, Jirka knows that Eliska does not miss. She's been in the ranges since before she could walk. She takes whatever arms they're selling for a brief spin, deeming them worthy or unsatisfactory before they're even allowed to push them into the market. There's nothing but perfection in Eliska's eyes, something she undoubtedly inherited from their father.

For Jirka, well, there's nothing but challenge. He's trained in pushing buttons and pushing agendas and getting what he wants. His mother calls him a brat for being so demanding. His sister somehow finds him an asset in her schemes. Regardless, Jirka is stubborn and he holds a grudge. He has a sneaking suspicion that he'll be hating Yeong for a very long time, regardless of how he wants this night to go.

Eliska knows a dismissal when she hears it. She thanks Yeong for his time and stands from her chair, nearly the height of Jirka in her heels. "buď opatrný. drž hubu," she warns quietly before offering Yeong one more smile. She doesn't linger. She leaves. The door shuts behind her and Jirka is terrifyingly aware of how there are only the two of them left in the room with only the length of a chair to separate them. Jirka still holds Yeong's cigarette. He places it between his lips and allows it to sit, the smoke drifting carefully between the two bodies as they breathe in the same air.

"I was led to believe that you had some sort of plan," he enunciates his sentence by blowing a plume of smoke right into Yeong's face, not bothering to mirror the smile that he so sharkishly gives. "And I expect that you're a man with good enough standards not to cross hard limits but," another plume. "I have been wrong before."

Something buzzes within him, similar to how the old man's vodka had tasted when he first stole a sip back when he was only fourteen. It lights everything ablaze and even Jirka's cold, frigid demeanor can't do much to cool it down. Instinctively, he takes a step back, but just finds that the back of his knees hit the solid wooden desk, the same desk that holds the discarded papers of a renegotiated trade deal. Oh, his mother would be so disappointed in her only son, but Jirka is simply doing what he does best. He gets people's attention. He gets them to listen. He gets them to see his way.

Something tells him that this encounter won't be one that he's used to.

Watching Eliska leave, Yeong offers nothing more than a wave. She wasn’t the one who held his interest, Jirka was. She would be a passing thought, something minor in the greater scheme of things. The moment the door shut, Yeong sighed. He was pleased that the meeting seemed to be officially over with, and he could finally have a bit of fun. To start, his appearance. He felt more comfortable pushing up the sleeves of his turtleneck to his elbows. It exposed the start of his tattoo sleeves. All of the art was black and white, and seemed to be a mix of various things from roses to a more tribal style. That was only the beginning of them, though. He had risen from the desk once the door shut, moving to approach Jirka once again.

The smoke being blowed into Yeong’s face wasn’t something he minded. He had experienced plenty of other things similar to that due to being within close proximity to others doing harder drugs. The smell of the smoke filled his senses, providing a comforting feeling. “Of course. I’m not a monster. I have no interest forcing you into doing anything,” Yeong reassured him, “Not when it’s best if you’re the one asking for me to do something instead.”

Jirka seemed to have backed himself into a corner against the desk, and Yeong was quick to take advantage of that. He closed the distance between them, hands resting on the desk on either side of Jirka’s hips to cage the man in place. He wasted no time invading Jirka’s personal space, leaning down to place his face close to the other man’s. His dark brown eyes bore into Jirka’s blue ones, seeming as if he was trying to read his mind. “Don’t be so tense,” he hummed, one of his thumbs moving from the desk to brush against the side of Jirka’s hip, “I have no plans to hurt you. You’ll walk out of this room as healthy as you walked in, as long as you behave.”

As quick as the moment began, it ended. Yeong straightened, hands leaving the desk to allow Jirka to move away. He walked back to the other side of the desk and sat in his chair, pushing the, still full, third glass of vodka towards Jirka’s direction. “Go on, drink. Don’t you know it’s rude not to accept gifts from your hosts? Did your parents teach you any manners, Jirka?”

Yeong picked up the bottle, filling up Jirka’s glass enough to where it was the amount of two shots instead of one. Jirka had to catch up to him, after all. “How well can you hold your liquor? I don’t want to assume stereotypes, but I’ve heard that Slavic’s know how to drink just as well as us Hispanics do.”

While Yeong pushes his sleeves up, Jirka actively tugs his down, taking a moment to feel the cold metal of his silver cufflinks against the dark blue of his suit. He only spares the briefest of glances to Yeong's tattoos, noting how his previous theory on a pair of sleeves had been correct. Always attentive, Jirka studies the curve of the muscle and how they flex, knowing instantly that Yeong could overpower Jirka in an instant. In hindsight, which has always been annoyingly twenty-twenty, he should've accepted the offer to take self defense, but to be fair, he never thought that he would be this close. The negotations he had at his childhood home always took place with his own armed men surrounding the desk. Everything since has been with his sister rightfully at his side. He supposes that he's relied on her skills for far too long. It's time that he picked something up on his own.

Yeong's reassurance does little to comfort what anxiety is bubbling beneath Jirka's skin, pushing past his efforts to smother it. "That's a bold assumption you're making," Jirka says, holding his chin high as the man steadily approaches, caging Jirka in with his arms against the desk. Standing before the man, it becomes frighteningly clear that he is a few inches shorter and nowhere near as broad. "This night means nothing to me, and I'll walk away with my honor intact. You're the one who's been unable to keep it in control–" his sentence tapers as Yeong's face is barely an inch from his own. "You're shameless," Jirka manages, voice much quieter than he wanted it to be.

And then there's a thumb on the jut of his hip, carefully caressing and causing all sorts of tremors to shoot up Jirka's spine. As soon as it was there, it's gone. Yeong has stepped away and returned to the liquor. Two shots worth of subpar vodka. "My parents never taught me much of anything," Jirka responds with a sneer. "That is, of course, when to spot a poor deal and a worse businessman." He straightens as he stares at the clear liquid, and then to the full bottle with the broken gold seal. He supposes he should be flattered that Yeong brought such a fancy set of glasses and an expensive bottle of liquor, but Jirka couldn't care. With one hand, he pushes his glasses back onto his nose, and with the other, he knocks pack the double shot without even a change of expression. It goes down smooth, which is Jirka's first indication that this vodka is one of the lesser ones that he's tasted. It should burn. It should feel like a devil sliding down his throat.

"I reckon I can handle it better than you," Jirka responds, licking the last bits from his lips. "Moonshine was my first muse. Vodka is a close enough second."

He checks his watch, noting how the afternoon has turned into evening. He just has to get through with the night and make it to the morning, and the best way to do that is to get things started as soon as they can. "Well there, Mister Navarro, you said that we had a night, and here it is. This is your hotel and I am your guest." He sets the glass down with a deafening clink. "I just pray that you're as good as you claim. I would hate for a few foul rumors to reach the streets of your inability." Without fanfare, he slides his jacket off and lays it over the chair, not once moving his eyes from Yeong's. Beneath the royal blue of his jacket is a pale button-up, the top two buttons already undone to show the silver necklace that lays in his collarbone. It also reveals the firearm that he keeps in a shoulder holster, a silver, gleaming revolver that his father purchased for Jirka's sixteenth birthday. "I suppose now is when you tell me your plan, no?"

Yeong had chuckled at Jirka’s comments about his skill set when it came to business. While he wasn’t the best of the best, he had been taught by those people. Besides, why did he need fancy words when he had his charm and appearance that tended to get him whatever he wanted anyways? “You’re the one that accepted this poor deal from a worse businessman, so what does that make you?” Yeong asked, arching a brow with interest. Some kind of innocent fool, he suspected.

Then, the challenge of drinking came up. Yeong had his first sip of alcohol at the age of eight when his father offered him a sip of beer. He was never a frequent drinker until he turned sixteen. From there, he moved onto harder liquors and after that, various other substances. Anything to chase that little high that was given to him once he reached the peak. He didn’t consider himself an addict. He was able to function without drugs or alcohol on the daily, he just thought they made things a whole more more interesting when used right. He poured himself another glass, studying the clear liquid inside before sipping it down. “We’ll have to see, then.”

When Jirka pushed the idea of continuing, Yeong wondered if the man knew exactly what he was getting into. The talk of performance could be referencing their game of who could drink more liquor, but he decided to take it a different route. He noticed the way Jirka seemed to squirm when they had been close, and he wanted to see that happen again.

“I can assure you, I have no problems performing,” Yeong said in a nonchalant tone. He had slept around throughout the years, leaving his partners satisfied more often than not. His body was one of the key things that he had to offer about himself, he knew that. He was raised to work with what he had no matter the situation, and the night with Jirka would be no different. As Jirka took off his jacket, Yeong didn’t hide the fact that his gaze crawled along his figure. Jirka was slimmer than him, more toned than muscular like he was. That was what Yeong liked, though, and as his eyes glanced over Jirka’s exposed collar bones, he decided that Jirka was his type.

“Why do you want to rush things? Is that why you’re already stripping yourself down without me having to ask?” Yeong asked with a sly grin. Though, if Jirka wanted to surprise him and take the bait, he wouldn’t be too disappointed. He could play fast and bold. It was one of his talents. “Are you interested in men, Jirka? If you don’t mind me saying, you look the type.”