As the liquid fell down his throat, so did it slowly begin to wrap greedy fingers through his mind in the minutes passed. It would take far more than two to take his mind away, but the buzz was already blurring his throat. Another one or two and a moments wait would thrust the drunkenness upon his mind like an avalanche. A welcomed release from old memories that bore holes through his chest like stained daggers.

The taste of the liquid searing down his throat was vastly different than his prior drink. It was fruity. Peach, maybe? Definitely not the bitter flame of scotch. The realization made Jackson blink as he stared down at the cup and then noticed the outstretched hand from the corner of his vision. He turned, blinked at the stranger sat beside him, then glanced once more at the emptied cup.

First of all, he was almost shocked to see somebody sitting next to him. The slacks and suit jacket had blended into a background of depressed office workers. The type that Jackson was familiar, but rarely busied himself with. They tended to keep to themselves, sometimes causing a fuss or mess, but rarely prompting an interest from Jackson. Jackson let his eyes trail from slacks to suit jacket and lastly lingered on the stranger's face. Weary eyes and posture that spoke of stolen confidence. He surely was no different than any other depressed office worker slouched across the scattered bar tables. Except, maybe, worse for the wear.

Secondly, well... wasn't his fault the drink had been set so close to him. It tasted like shit anyway.

By now, his own drink had been placed upon the bar with a quiet clink. Had Jackson been drunker, less inhibited, he might have chugged this one as well. Instead, he crudely dropped his held glass to the table and slid the glass of scotch to the stranger beside him. Alcoholic liquid splattered across the table. "Just drink this and don't whine about it." He demanded, quickly flagging down the bartender for yet another drink (no, two) to be delivered to him. He wasn't a beggar for small talk, but the stranger's downtrodden appearance had found him a rare interest. "Yours tasted like shit anyway."

It was, again, only a moment before the next two drinks were on his table and Jackson swigged this one with equal haste. However, his eyes were now locked on the shadowed features of the stranger. He'd be more than satisfied to slid the other drink to him as well. It wasn't like he had any monetary woes. This was pocket change.

 "You look like shit, too. Might as well get fucked up the right way."

jayden cross

Time stretched a clear path for the alcohol to curl through his veins and swirl a cloudy haze in his mind. The lanky man beside him was gently nursing the chilled scotch between his hands, a stark contrast to the hasty swigs of his own. Jackson kept his gaze locked on the oddly familiar features of the stranger even after he had finished the two glasses of alcohol. The blue scarf hid some of his features in it's warm embrace and Jackson wondered just how cold he was to still wear that. Jackson, himself, only had a jacket on over his v-neck t-shirt. If he had been cold, the alcohol would soon bring warmth.

Or perhaps something else would.

Jackson caught the side glances from Jayden, and then the cocked head that indicated a thoughtful process pricking his mind. His comment wasn't intended as a compliment, but if the stranger desired to interpret it as such. Well - what did he care. "Sure." Jackson responded, twirling a small circle in the air with his empty drink. It'd hardly been a half hour since the first drink. Four drinks in quick succession was a guarantee for near-future trouble. Even if one of these drinks had been a watered-down peach.

Jayden's eyes lingered over his body and Jackson tried to read the words written in his gaze, but his own gaze was shaky in movement. Was that lust in the other's eyes? Or just curiosity? He snorted a laugh, something short and restricted, the sound and movement of his lips never reaching to his eyes. Jackson couldn't remember the last time something had morphed his face to a smile that reached beyond his lips. He wasn't about to make a new memory of that, either. "Yeah. Why else would I be wasting my time at a bar?"

While he mulled the thought of ordering another drink and allowing himself to get plastered on this weekday night, Jayden continued the conversation with a question. "Jackson" was the trainer's short response, thinking better of a fifth drink and leaning his elbow on the counter to face Jayden. "Yours?"

jayden cross

The buzz of hasty consumed alcohol was quickly and greedily overwhelming Jackson's mind. It cracked chains tightly locked across his heart and burned the barrier of thorns beneath them. The chains would return and the thorns would regrow, but in this moment he could finally feel his chest relax and his breath steady. One more drink would surely send his mind spiralling into drunken paradise.

Through a vision that slowly blurred, returned, then faded again, Jackson kept his eyes trained on Jayden. Obvious to the intense gaze that trailed his face and body. A smirk tugged at the edges of Jackson's lips as the sound of the bar faded like white noise into the background. He could barely hear the sound of the bartenders now frantic attempts to wake the sleeping patron that sat chairs away. Nor could he hear the intense conversation between two office workers as alcohol lowered their filters and returned confidence lost in childhood.

His cheeks burned with warmth, but there was no mistaking the lustful confidence that now enveloped his harsh mind. "Oh?" Jackson straightened his posture, his voice mimicking the almost coy flow of this stranger. "Think you can read my mind, then?" He inquired, curiosity piqued with interest despite the slight inaccuracies of his tone. Vowels were beginning to slur together, but Jackson still kept his words firm and - oh, coy, it was.

Jayden. "Jayden." He toyed with the word as it flowed from his lips. He noticed the redness that blushed Jayden's cheeks. Surely he wasn't drunk already. Not after two measly drinks of whiskey and peach-infused alcohol. No, this was something more. "Not bad." As if the name was chosen by Jayden himself. Eyes so locked onto Jayden's that he didn't notice the Delibird quietly placing a gift at his feet.

"Why the curiosity?" Jackson questioned, his body shifting as he brushed, no, pressed a knee against Jayden's. Was he already interested in taking his name? Surprisingly bold for someone who looked like they'd get stepped on often. In life and bed. He let the question hang in the air as brought his gaze to a near empty glass. Jackson hastily flagged down the bartender, asked for another scotch. This one for Jayden, not for himself. Only then did he answer.

"Barrett." He didn't particularly care for anything more than Jayden's first name. Most time, he never even learned the names of his sexual partners. "How about telling me what the fuck has you getting drunk by yourself." It was a statement, not a question. One might even say it was a demand for information that meant nothing to Jackson. It was only a way to keep him there. Get him drunker. Less inhibited.


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Jackson mulled over Jayden's response for a mere second before a sly smirk pulled across his lips. "If you did, it'd take away all of the fun, wouldn't it?" He pressed, his thoughts and goals for the evening already brushing aside the stress of his day. They wove tight red lines around his forgone control and the anger of his night, tearing the memories to pieces and replacing them with imagined pictures of bruised wrists and red marks against bare skin. Heavy breaths. Begging words. Taunts and...pleasure.

A warmth buzzed through his body, reaching through his veins and into his lower regions. The background noise of the bar fading into muffled murmers as Jayden leaned into the pressure of his knee. The touch of Jayden's hand didn't bring a thrill to his spine. Instead, a pure lust wove it's way deeper through the sexual imagery that played in Jackson's mind. He could see his hand wrapped around both of Jayden's wrists, another trailing lines and embedding marks across his skin.

I'm not allowed to be curious? The question removed Jackson from his thoughts and he met Jayden's blinking eyes with his own, unblinking, gaze. Impulsion, be damned. Public bar, be damned. The blurred words of his mind screamed at him to grab Jayden's face and pin his body to the bar counter.

Still, he withheld. "And if I said no?" He asked, forgoing the fact that he'd already revealed his last name. Not that it would matter either way. There was little of him on the internet lest he dig into criminal records. Lines upon lines of misdemeanors and violent actions.

A distraction. Jackson could fucking do that. He didn't really care why Jayden was here, anyway. "I can help with that." Jackson shifted his body closer to Jayden's, his knee moving along Jayden's leg and deeper towards the hidden object of desire. He reached out a hand across the bar counter and moved Jayden's drink to the other's lips, boldly tilting the glass to spill the liquid into Jayden's mouth (or on him, but what did that matter? He wouldn't be wearing those clothes much longer).

"Finish it." He commanded, the closeness of the glass just a thinly-veiled excuse to press his knee deeper between Jayden's legs. "Then..." He let the word hang in the air before he lowered his voice and dropped his other hand onto the one occupying his leg. He squeezed tightly. "I'll show you a goddamn good distraction."

jayden cross