Adrian just stared, angered by the interruption and even more so by how loud it was. He stood there, unsure what to do, until the ringing stopped. He was more than certain it wasn't his phone as he hated loud ringtones, which was ironical cause he liked 'noise' music.
A few seconds passed, then it rang again. Cursing under his breath, he bent to pick it up.
Ethan, with a smiley face and red heart emoji, flashed across the screen.
"Ethan?" he muttered, furrowing his brows as he tried to place the name.
"Oh, that Ethan?" he said aloud, recalling the redhead at the club who'd referred to him by that. "Is this your lover or what?" He watched the screen until the ringing stopped again.
Adrian strode back to the couch opposite Ryan and slumped into it, his gaze going from the discarded phone to Ryan, sprawled on the couch still fast asleep.
He took in what he'd done. Ryan, dressed in nothing but his underwear. The swollen, reddened lips caused by his and the dark hickey marks blooming against his pale skin, which contrasted the black leather couch. His eyes drifted lower, landing on his own hardened cock that stubbornly refused to calm down.
With a sharp sigh, he looked away, rubbing the bridge of his nose in absolute irritation.
The phone rang again.
This time, Adrian answered it.
"Hey!" Ethan snapped into the phone, his tone sharp enough to make Adrian flinch. "Where the fuck are you? And why the fuck are you picking up only now? I've been looking all over for you. It's been thirty minutes since the party ended, and I can't seem to find you anywhere." His voice cracked on the last words. "See, as it is right now, I'm really exhausted and sleepy. I need to get back so…"
"Who is this?" Adrian interrupted, cutting him off and not wanting to hear any more of the whining.
There was a pause on the other end. Ethan sounded taken aback, surprised that someone else had answered, and even more surprised by the tone of the voice. "Who's this?" he asked, repeating the question thrown at him.
Adrian said nothing.
"I'm Ethan, a friend to the owner of the phone you're with," the voice went on, slightly calmer now. "Can I speak to him, please?"
"He's passed out. Come pick him up," Adrian said flatly, ending the call.
He glanced down at Ryan's phone for a moment, then tapped the little icon in the top corner of the screen. The one that automatically shares location with frequent contacts.
This should work, he muttered to himself.
He didn't care what the guy had introduced himself as, but Adrian guessed Ethan must be a frequent contact, after all, the name was saved with a heart emoji on Ryan's phone.
After sitting for a few seconds, Adrian stood and made his way to his room but paused midway. A frown crossed his face, as if he recalled something, then called out, "Reginald!"
Almost immediately, a middle-aged man in his sixties, black with a few strands of white, full beard and tanned skin, stepped out through a side door. "Yes, Master Adrian," he said, bowing slightly with hands tucked behind his back.
"Oh, goodness," Adrian groaned, slapping a hand against his forehead. "I've told you to stop with these formalities. I'm already annoyed as it is, so you don't have to add to it." He let out a sharp breath, "Anyway… go take care of the guy in the lounge, then get him outside. Someone will come pick him up." He rushed through the words as he hurried toward his room. "His name's Ethan… or something. The guy doing the picking up," He added before closing the door behind him.
The butler bowed again, acknowledging the order, before proceeding to carry it out.
The bathroom door clicked shut behind him. Adrian leaned against the sink, chest heaving, and his forehead damp with sweat. His cock hardened, and his unzipped pants did very little to hide it.
"Fucking hell," he muttered through gritted teeth, staring at his reflection. Sweaty face, wild eyes, and his entire body tight with tension.
His mind replayed the moments that had left him like this, vivid and raw. He hurriedly pulled down his pants, one hand gripping his cock and jerking it from the base to the tip. Each rough pump filled with a mix of frustration, impatience, and need.
Time passed with minutes going from five to ten, yet his release refused to come.
"Come on, you bastard," he hissed, both hands now working in sync, pumping faster.
Then the pleasure started building up slowly, unbearable and sweet, sending shivers down his body with every stroke. His vision blurred slightly, his breath increasing, until finally, he reached his climax. His cock twitched violently as the milky fluid spilled out in an erratic burst, drop after drop.
Adrian sagged against the wall, trembling and feeling spent but still unsatisfied. He ran a hand through his damp hair, irritation still there, sharp and bitter, refusing to fade even as his body finally stilled.
_____________________
Ethan stared at his phone for a moment, disbelief settling in as he processed how abruptly the person at the other end had ended the call.
"What's his problem?" he muttered, thumb hovering before tapping the prompt message that popped up on his screen, which led to an instant opening of the map. It showed a detailed direction of Ryan's location.
"Wister Row?" he murmured, the name hinting at something familiar.
He booked a taxi, slid his phone into his pocket, and hugged his arms around himself as a shiver ran through him. The dark morning air was cold, and he was already outside, standing still, waiting.
That was when a fur coat settled over his shoulders.
"Thanks," he said automatically, then looked up. The tall man standing in front of him wore bold, squared glasses, his face looking oddly familiar.
Ethan squinted, trying to place him. "Ohh… it's you," he said slowly, in a half-formed but incomplete recognition.
"It's me?" the man echoed with a playful tilt of his head. "You know me?"
"Yeah, um…" It clicked. "Yes. You're Adrian's friend."
The man laughed. "Adrian's friend? Is that what I'm referred to as around here?"
Ethan answered without thinking. "Yeah. You're Dylan. You helped us get into the club some time before."
Dylan blinked. "We've met before?"
"Yeah. Some time ago. You might not remember," Ethan said, then gestured to the coat, adjusting it around his shoulders. "Anyway, thanks for this."
"It's nothing," Dylan replied with a small grin and a nod.
"You waiting for someone?"
"No. A taxi."
"Oh. Where're you headed? I can give you a ride," Dylan offered, pointing toward the garage.
"Wister Row. But it's fine. I can manage it."
"You reside at Wister Row?" Dylan asked. "Someone I know lives there."
"I'm just picking a friend up. I don't actually live there."
"Ah." Dylan rubbed his chin. "I see."
Headlights swept into the driveway as a white car rolled to a stop.
"I think my ride's here," Ethan said quickly. "And thanks again." He slipped the coat off and handed it back. "See ya." He waved and got into the back seat before Dylan could protest.
Dylan watched the taxi pull away, the words 'don't worry, you can take it along' dying unspoken on his tongue. He swung the coat over his arm and turned back, heading toward the garage, with a thoughtless expression.
Some minutes after the taxi driver zoomed off with Ethan giving the address to him, something finally clicked in his mind. A street name that screamed familiarity. And the someone-Dylan-knows residing there.
Everything came rushing back: his fanboying moments, the frantic checking of Instagram notifications, the excitement he felt whenever Adrian uploaded something new. There was no way he could have forgotten those.
He was sure now. That street had to be Adrian's. But… what was Ryan doing there? If he were just some random person to Ryan, he wouldn't be doubting it. But he wasn't. He was Ryan's confidant, his strategist, the one who knew every little struggle Ryan faced just to meet with Adrian. So how did this happen so suddenly, without him knowing anything about it?
As the taxi weaved through familiar roads, between trees, alleys, and restaurants he'd seen countless times on Adrian's Instagram, his doubts began to fade.
"Then the person on the phone was Adrian?!" he yelled, hands flying to his mouth in shock, startling the driver, who looked into the rearview mirror and at him.
"Sorry about that," Ethan quickly muttered, embarrassed.
The driver just smiled, a quiet, understanding gesture.
Ethan looked away, nibbling at his thumb, trying to contain the chaos of thoughts running through his headspace. He wished the driver would step on it, since he wouldn't feel at ease until he knew for sure.
By the time the taxi turned off the main road and into the apartment complex, passing a quiet security booth, the morning dawn was starting to creep in. Through the window, Ethan saw the sleek, tall building rise ahead, and just a few steps from the edge of the sidewalk, a figure appeared beside a wooden bench. Another figure was curled on the bench, fast asleep, and Ethan could tell it was Ryan.
"Can you stop here?" Ethan signaled the driver, telling him to wait a second before climbing out. He approached cautiously.
It was an older man, leaning on a walking stick, and definitely had no resemblance to Adrian.
But the voice on the phone had sounded so much younger. Ethan's brow furrowed.
"Are you Ethan?" the man asked as Ethan drew closer.
"Yeah… and thanks for looking after him." He said, bending slightly over Ryan to check his state before looking up at the man, and hoping for some clue. "Sir, do you have any idea…?"
The man cut him off with a bow. "I'll be going then," he said, turning almost immediately and walking away.
"Thanks a lot, sir!" Ethan called after him, voice firm but not too loud.
The man waved a hand without looking back.
Ethan shrugged and went over to Ryan, trying to lift him. The boy was heavy... much heavier for someone with a slim frame. He paused, then called back to the taxi driver. "Hey, can you help me get him up?"
The driver nodded, coming around to lend a hand as they lifted Ryan from the bench and into the back seat of the car.
The taxi pulled away, tires crunching over the rocky ground as Ethan held Ryan securely in his arms. Ryan was still asleep, leaning on him, and for that moment, Ethan just focused on keeping him steady.
He glanced out the window from time to time to scan the streets or to try putting together the pieces of the puzzle.
His mind raced between disbelief and wanting to act on something.
Even if it wasn't Adrian waiting for him, the bigger question plagued him relentlessly: how the fuck did Ryan end up there in the first place?
He adjusted his grip, letting Ryan rest comfortably on him, mind running over every detail he knew and every detail he didn't. With each one more worrying than the last, and each one refusing to settle. He wished he could ask, he wished Ryan could say something at that moment to satisfy his curiosity, but for now, all he could do was wait