Chapter 223 Chapter 0222

Chapter 223 Chapter 0222
Clark barely paused at his apartment door.
The stranger was behind him, lips pressing against his neck, fingers curling against his waist as Clark fumbled for the key.
"Easy," Clark murmured, though his voice didn’t sound like he wanted easy at all.
The stranger chuckled against his skin, his hands slipping lower. "Can’t help myself."
The key turned in the lock. The door swung open.
Clark stepped inside first, not looking back as he grabbed the man by his tie and pulled him in.
The moment Clark stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind them, the stranger’s hands were already on him.
Clark barely made it two steps before his back hit the wall.
A thud.
The stranger’s hands slid down his sides, lips tracing his jaw, his neck.
Clark let out a breathless chuckle, grabbing the man’s tie, tugging him forward.
"Come on," he murmured, voice smooth, too smooth. "Bedroom."
The stranger didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t question why Clark wanted to get this over with so quickly.
Clark led him further inside, their bodies pressed together, their movements rushed.
Adam walked in after them.
Closed the door. Locked it.
Then ignored them completely.
He moved through the apartment with calm indifference, barely sparing a glance at the two tangled figures near the entrance.
Clark’s breath hitched.
The stranger muttered something low.
Adam tuned it out.
Instead, he headed straight for the kitchen.
The fridge door creaked open.
His hand reached inside, fingers curling around the cold metal of a beer can.
The sharp hiss of the beer can opening barely covered the first sound.
Soft at first—a breath, a murmur, the rustle of fabric shifting against skin.
Adam took a slow sip. Waited.
Then— "Mmh—"
His grip on the can stilled.
His gaze flicked toward the closed bedroom door, expression unreadable.
Then came the unmistakable creak of the bed.
Another sound. A low exhale, almost a sigh.
Then a faint, breathy chuckle, followed by a soft thud against the mattress.
Adam pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek.
He had heard worse.
Been in worse situations.
But this?
"Ah—"
This was something else.
A shift in the sheets. A heavier creak. Another muffled gasp, deeper this time.
Adam exhaled sharply through his nose.
For all of Clark’s polished suits, carefully measured words, and ice-cold demeanor, he sure as hell wasn’t reserved in his personal life.
"Mmh—more—"
Adam winced.
His fingers tapped once against the beer can, expression shifting.
Somewhere between horrified and vaguely impressed.
Another creak. A sharp hitch in breath.
"Deeper—ah—"
Adam squeezed his eyes shut for half a second.
Then took another long, slow drink.
Unbelievable.
Clark, the man who practically bled control, who walked through life like nothing could touch him, was currently in the next room moaning into some stranger’s mouth like he had no dignity left.
The bed hit the wall. Once. Twice.
Then again.
And again.
The rhythm picked up—sharp, deliberate, deep.
The sheets rustled. Clark’s breath hitched.
Then—a smirk in his voice, "That all you got?"
A low chuckle from the stranger.
"Cocky little thing, aren’t you?"
Clark’s response was a breathless laugh, cut short by a sharp thrust.
"Ah—fuck—"
Adam stared at the beer in his hand.
Didn’t react.
Didn’t acknowledge the shift.
But the sounds got louder.
A muffled gasp, then a deeper moan.
Then—a rough hand smacking against bare skin, "You take it so fucking well."
Clark gasped. The bed shook violently, slamming into the wall in a steady, relentless rhythm.
Adam exhaled sharply, taking another slow sip.
"Shit—yeah, just like that—deeper—" Clark’s voice broke at the end, melting into a breathy moan.
The stranger chuckled again, voice husky. Smug.
"You’ve got a body built for this, huh?"
A sharp inhale from Clark. Then—another deep, wrecked moan.
The bedframe rattled. Flesh against flesh.
Adam clicked his tongue.
This was going to be a long fucking night.
Clark wasn’t just letting go.
He was performing.
"Mmh—fuck, right there—"
The stranger groaned, voice rasping with effort.
"Knew you’d be a mess underneath all that buttoned-up bullshit."
Clark laughed, breathless.
"Then shut up and fuck me harder."
Adam winced.
The bed slammed against the wall harder, the sounds wet, messy, sharp.
Then—a sharp, choked inhale from Clark.
Then silence.
A slow, shuddering exhale.
The sheets shifted. Bodies separating.
Clark let out a low, satisfied hum.
The stranger chuckled again, voice smug.
Adam drained his beer.
Silence settled over the apartment.
Finally.
Then—a soft rustling.
A sigh. Movement.
Adam’s fingers tapped against the can as he listened.
The faint creak of a mattress. The shuffle of feet against the floor. A zipper, the subtle clink of a belt buckle.
Then, a quiet chuckle.
Adam tilted his head slightly, but didn’t look.
He heard the sound of Clark shifting, the rustle of fabric, the muffled scrape of fingers through hair.
Then the slow creak of the bedroom door.
Adam still didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
Just took another sip.
The door opened.
Soft footsteps. A presence moving into the dimly lit apartment.
Adam waited.
Then—a figure stepped into his peripheral vision.
The stranger.
Buttoning his shirt.
Looking completely satisfied.
Hair a mess, lips slightly swollen, the picture of a man who had gotten exactly what he came for.
He caught sight of Adam and smirked, adjusting his cuffs.
"Didn’t think he was the type," he muttered, half to himself, half to Adam.
Adam finally turned his head.
His gaze met the man’s for a long second.
Flat. Unreadable.
The smirk on the stranger’s lips faltered just slightly, but he brushed it off, chuckling as he ran a hand through his hair.
"Well," the guy said, "I’ll leave you two to it."
Adam didn’t react.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t even breathe differently.
The guy hesitated for half a second.
Then he left, the door clicking shut behind him.
Silence.
Adam exhaled slowly.
The TV kept playing, but the noise didn’t reach him anymore.
He stood.
The job wasn’t over.
Moving toward the bedroom, he nudged the door open slightly.
And paused.
Clark was completely bare.
Lying on his stomach, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other sprawled across the mattress.
The sheets were barely covering his lower back.
Exposed. Vulnerable.
Adam’s eyes narrowed slightly.
He stepped forward, reaching for the light switch.
Flicked it off.
And then—
"Turn it back on."
The words were instant.
Slurred with exhaustion, but immediate.
Adam stilled.
His hand lingered near the switch.
Clark hadn’t opened his eyes. Hadn’t shifted at all.
Yet his voice held that same cold edge it always did. Even in sleep, even when half-conscious.
Adam’s fingers hesitated for a second longer.
Then, without a word, he flicked the light back on.
Clark didn’t move.
Didn’t react beyond a slow exhale, his body settling slightly into the mattress.
Adam watched him for a moment.
Expression unreadable.
Then he turned and left, but something about this night didn’t sit right with him.
And for the first time, he was sure— Clark wasn’t just drunk.
Wasn’t just reckless.
There was something else.
Something wrong.