Chapter 227 Chapter 0226

Chapter 227 Chapter 0226
Clark barely spared a glance at Adam as he grabbed his keys off the table, his movements brisk, sharp with unspoken intent. His fingers curled around the cool metal, the faint clink echoing through the quiet apartment.
Adam, stretched out on the couch, remote in one hand and a beer in the other, didn’t even bother turning his head.
"Where are you going?"
Clark exhaled. Didn’t slow. Didn’t stop, "Outside," That was all he said before crossing the room and reaching for the door.
Adam let out a slow sigh, taking his time to put down the remote.
Then stood.
Clark heard the shift of weight behind him. He didn’t have to turn around to know what was coming next.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as he pulled the door open. "Do you have to follow me everywhere?"
Adam, now standing a few feet behind him, met his irritation with the same lazy indifference.
"Yeah," he replied, completely unfazed. "That’s kinda the job."
Clark clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the doorknob.
Then, without another word, he stepped out.
Adam followed.
Because of course he did.
The night air hit them the moment they exited the building—cool, crisp, a stark contrast to the tension clinging between them. Clark moved quickly, his polished shoes clicking against the pavement in a steady, purposeful rhythm.
Adam, hands in his pockets, followed at a more relaxed, yet ever-watchful pace.
They didn’t speak.
Didn’t need to.
Clark walked like a man with a destination. Adam just didn’t know what it was yet.
But as they turned the corner, weaving past the late-night crowd, Adam started putting the pieces together.
The street was familiar. The neon lights ahead, even more so.
Clark’s shoulders were stiff, but his pace never faltered.
Adam glanced up, the glow of a flashing sign reflecting in his dark eyes.
Then it clicked.
He huffed a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head, \`Of course. ´
The moment they walked through the door, Adam knew.
Not just from the neon glow reflecting off sticky surfaces, or the heavy scent of alcohol mixed with cheap cologne, or the murmuring bass of a song barely heard beneath the low hum of conversation and lingering glances.
No.
Adam knew because Clark walked in like he belonged there.
Like this wasn’t a one-time thing.
Like this was a pattern.
A habit.
A routine.
Clark strode straight to the counter, his posture tight, efficient, practiced.
Tapped his knuckle twice against the wood.
The bartender didn’t even ask.
A glass of whiskey was already being poured.
Adam didn’t sit. Didn’t order a drink.
Just leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, watching.
Clark drank.
One glass.
Then another.
Adam exhaled slowly, adjusting his stance.
Then—
"Back again so soon?"
Adam recognized the tone before the voice.
Didn’t even have to look.
Same game. Different player.
A man slid into Clark’s space without hesitation, all confidence and unapologetic hunger.
Dark hair, cocky smirk, hands already reaching.
Clark barely turned his head. Didn’t need to.
The stranger leaned in closer, knuckles grazing Clark’s hip.
"Didn’t think you were the type to repeat so quickly," he murmured, his voice smooth, suggestive, low enough to be private but loud enough for Adam to hear.
Clark exhaled, the faintest curl of amusement playing at the corner of his lips.
"Guess I’m full of surprises."
The man chuckled, fingers skimming lower.
A bold hand curled around Clark’s waist.
Clark didn’t stop him.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t do anything except take another slow sip of whiskey.
Adam’s jaw twitched.
The stranger’s hand slid further.
From Clark’s waist to his hip, his thumb pressing just beneath the hem of his shirt, fingers teasing the fabric, slipping underneath.
Testing.
Clark’s breathing hitched for half a second.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
But Adam did.
Clark exhaled, setting his glass down with practiced ease.
Then, without hesitation, he turned, pressing a hand to the stranger’s chest and guiding him toward the exit.
Not rushed. Not desperate. Just inevitable.
Adam didn’t move at first.
Just stayed there, watching, his arms crossed against his chest.
He already knew how this was going to end.
With Clark tangled up in another stranger. With Adam stuck driving him home. Again.
He sighed. Pushed himself up from the pillar.
Followed.
Outside, the air was thick with city heat, streetlights casting a dull glow against the pavement. Clark and the stranger were ahead, moving in sync, the man’s hand drifting lower, possessive, sure. Clark let it happen.
Adam ignored it.
Mostly.
The stranger’s hand gripped Clark’s ass firmly, his other sliding up his chest, fingers brushing teasingly against his ribs. Clark didn’t stop him. Didn’t slow down.
Didn’t even look surprised when the man leaned in, his mouth pressing hot and lingering against his neck.
"Couldn’t stop thinking about you," the man murmured against his skin, voice thick with want. "Need to feel that mouth again. That tight little—"
Clark chuckled. Low. Dangerous. Amused.
"You talk too much," he said simply.
The stranger just grinned.
Adam exhaled sharply, jaw tightening as he followed a few paces behind. Kept his gaze forward. Kept his mind detached.
Mostly.
The city around them was alive, neon flickering in puddles along the sidewalk, the distant hum of traffic blending with the distant thump of bass from another bar down the street. The smell of rain and spilled alcohol lingered in the air, mixing with the faintest trace of cigarette smoke from some late-night wanderer.
The stranger’s hands didn’t stop moving.
Sliding lower.
Fingers curling into Clark’s belt loop, pulling him closer, pressing their bodies flush against each other for a brief moment before guiding him forward again.
Clark let himself be handled like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Adam gritted his teeth.
He didn’t care.
Didn’t care about what Clark did. Didn’t care who Clark fucked. Didn’t care how easy he made himself.
But God.
Did it have to be like this? Did he have to see it?
The stranger pulled Clark toward the entrance of his building, laughing softly, murmuring something against his ear before nipping at his jaw.
Adam barely caught the words.
"—gonna make you beg for it tonight."
Clark just hummed in response.
Adam exhaled through his nose.
Then followed them inside.
Because he had a fucking job to do.
The apartment building was quiet.
But he knew it wouldn’t be for long.
He stepped inside.
Took the elevator, because he wasn’t a fucking lunatic.
He took his time, the doors to the elevator opened and he steeped out.
Walking with his hands inside the pockets, he reached the apartment and opened the door.
The apartment was dim.
City lights spilled through the window, casting soft shadows across the walls.
But none of that mattered.
Because Clark?
Clark was moaning.
"Mmm—hah—oh fuck—"
Adam didn’t flinch.
Didn’t react.
Just stepped inside.
Closed the door.
Locked it.
Then tried—tried—to ignore what he was hearing.
Because Clark?
Clark wasn’t quiet.
"Yeah, that’s it," the stranger murmured, voice low, amused. Filthy. "Love seeing you like this, baby."
A sharp slap.
A low gasp.
"Mmh—fuck—"
Adam took a slow breath.
Ran a tongue along his teeth.
Didn’t look toward the bedroom.
Didn’t need to.
"Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this," the man continued, tone lazy, like he had all the time in the world. "All spread out, taking it so good. You like that?"
"Ah—mmh—yeah—"
Another sharp slap.
Another gasped moan.
"Knew you would," the stranger chuckled, low, breathy. "So, fucking easy, aren’t you?"
Clark let out a soft, broken noise.
"Mmh—just shut up and fuck me—"
Adam exhaled hard.
Turned into the kitchen.
Grabbed a beer from the fridge.
The sharp hiss of the can opening barely drowned out the next sound—
A deep groan.
Then—
"Nnh—ah—faster—"
Adam took a long drink.
Didn’t react when he heard the bedframe slam against the wall.
Didn’t acknowledge the sharp cry that followed.
"Fuck, you feel good, baby—"
"Hah—shut up—"
"Oh? You like when I talk dirty, don’t you?"
A loud, breathless moan.
A heavy thud.
Clark gasped. Wrecked.
"Mmh—ahh—fuck—please—"
Adam’s fingers tensed around the can.
Then—shook his head.
Drank deeper.
Because at this point?
This was just another long fucking night.