Chapter 19 19: Smoke Between Their Lips 🚬🫦
He didn't flinch, didn't react. He simply lifted his head to look at Oliver's face, eyes as deep and dangerously dark as the night.
"You'd lose it in five seconds," His tone was calm, unhurried, but at the same time, it was heavy, threatening and chilling.
Slowly, Oliver removed his hand from Saint, his green eyes narrowing up at him, "He just called you a tick, don't prove how right his words are. Let the boy have his fun." He said, his jaw flexing.
Saint simply ran his dark eyes over Oliver's face before he turned and walked away.
He marched toward the dance floor, his eyes going to the place he had seen Baby but he couldn't find him or the girl anymore.
"Shit," He muttered, realising that Baby was already up to something with the girl in some dark corner as he had suggested.
He looked to his left and saw Rode's dining and kitchen, Baby wouldn't have gone there.
He then turned to his right and found the shirt stairs case that probably led to the room.
He wasted no time and immediately walked toward the stairs.
He suddenly slowed midstairs, frowning.
"What am I even doing? I'm not his father as he said." He murmured, clenching his fists around the stairs rail.
'But I just have to make sure he's being discreet. That's all.'
He would just make sure Baby is having his some quiet place and he'd be on his way home. There was no need to stay here and follow a grown man around like a shepherd.
He climbed the rest of the stairs and faced the short, dim passage.
He saw no one there, and heard nothing either. But his instincts told him that Baby would be in one of the rooms.
He moved quietly, walking past the first room which was open and empty inside.
He was about to walk past the second one when he heard a girl moaning in there.
He stilled, shutting his eyes as he felt a sudden surge of anger and pain in his chest.
"He is really fucking, isn't he?" He murmured, his eyes glaring at the closed door.
Before he could stop himself, his hand was only twisting the handle and pushing the door in.
"Fuck, yes! Cam! Don't stop!"
Siant's hand froze as he heard the girl's words. He paused and looked through the slightly opened door.
Indeed, Cam had a girl bent over a dressing table, thrusting his hips into her.
Quietly, Saint closed the door and sighed.
He couldn't understand why he suddenly felt relief when it wasn't Baby in there.
But his relief was short-lived because the next voice he heard was definitely Baby's.
"Your mouth, so fucking good!" Baby's low came from the door ahead.
Saint's eyes flashed and he moved.
Two doors away from Cam's, he stood right in front of it, listening to Baby's quiet groans of pleasure.
He felt unable to breathe, his chest constricting as if someone was deliberately blocking his airflow.
He couldn't stand it, for whatever reasons might be behind his anger toward Baby's lifestyle, he didn't care, he just needed to stop it.
He knocked on the door but got no response, then he tried pushing it open and realised that it was locked.
"Fuck," He cursed out, gripping the door handle like he wanted to rip it out.
He shoved his fingers through his hair and paced the passage, his blood boiling.
He suddenly paused as he heard Baby muttering a curse, probably finding his release in the girl's mouth.
In the next second the door flew open and out walked the girl, face flushed and lips glistening.
She glanced at Saint and walked past him without saying a word.
Saint moved to the door, waiting patiently for Baby to fix himself and come out.
"Damn it," Baby stumbled out of the room, his cigarette smoking between his lips, and his hair slightly dishevelled.
He paused in surprise as he saw the brooding, dark and familiar figure leaning by the side of the door.
"Ah, it's you. Taking my advice and looking for that dark corner to fuck some chick," he puffed his smoke, smirking at Saint's unreadable face.
Saint was quiet, staring directly into Baby's blue eyes.
His fingers dug into his hands as he fought the urge to slam Baby against the wall and demand that he never pet anyone or touch him.
That would be weird, right?
He had no right to ask such a thing from Baby, and Baby would probably punch him again for asking such a ridiculous thing.
"You're having your fun?" Saint asked, his voice low and devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the storm churning inside him.
Baby stepped forward, took a long drag of his cigarette, and blew the smoke out in a slow, irritating stream aimed directly at Saint's face. His smirk widened, full of defiance.
"Why, Saint? Worried about the organisation's rules?" Baby scoffed, stepping closer. "Don't worry, you saw it, I was stealthy, I locked the door."
He threw his head back and laughed, a short, bitter sound. "Don't tell me you followed me up here to do your chaperone work again."
Saint's hand reached out, dragging the cigarette out of Baby's lips, his eyes never leaving Baby's as he took a drag from the cigarette, then he leaned forward and gripped Baby's chin, blowing the smoke right into his lips.
Baby gulped, his pulse spiking from Saint's unexpected payback. He took a step backwards, freeing himself from Saint's grip.
"Just leave me alone. I'm minding my own damn business. And now that you've done your 'chaperone duty,' you can go. Or better yet, go find that chick I told you about. You look like you need to loosen up." He cleared his throat and dragged his cigarette away from Saint's lips, frowning slightly.
Saing stared.
A heated stare that pierced right into Baby's soul.
His head was loud, his heart was thumping and his body was hot, feverishly hot as he lowered his eyes to the fading mark of his bite on Baby's lips.
"You should really learn how to listen, Baby," Saint spoke, his voice rough, low.
"You have no fucking right to demand anything from me,"
Baby dropped the cigarette butt and ground it under his expensive leather boot, his eyes never leaving Saint's.
After that, he turned and started to walk past Saint, his shoulder brushing heavily against the taller man's chest.
Saint didn't move for a count of three. He just watched the retreating figure for a moment, his jaw still tight. He could walk away. He should walk away. Baby was right; he had no right to demand anything.
But the image of Baby's face, flushed with pleasure from that girl's touch, flashed through his mind, and the calculated, "professional" reasons for his anger felt paper-thin.
"Baby." The name was a harsh rasp, stopping Baby mid-stride.
Baby slowly turned back, an annoyed, weary expression on his face. "What now, Saint? Another lecture?"
Saint pushed off the wall and took two measured steps toward him, closing the distance. His steel-grey eyes, which had been dangerously dark, now held a complicated mix of frustration and something else Baby couldn't quite decipher—something raw.
"I don't care about your fun," Saint lied, his voice barely above a whisper, "or your choices. But you know as much as I do that we can't afford a scandal,"
He paused, and Baby noticed his hands were shaking slightly.
"You need to learn to be discreet," Saint continued, his voice regaining its cold control. "If you're going to use people, fine. But stop letting others see you as vulnerable."
He jabbed a finger—not too hard, but pointedly—into the centre of Baby's chest, right where his pulse would be thrumming.
"That guy, Oliver. He's watching you. Rode is watching you. Everyone in that room is watching. And you're playing a dangerous game. Next time, find a better spot than a locked room two doors from the main party."
Baby blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift from personal conflict to tactical advice.
"What are you even saying?" Baby questioned, frowning.
"I'm saying," Saint leaned in, his imposing height forcing Baby to slightly tilt his head up, "that if you're going to break the rules, you need to be a professional at it. Don't leave evidence. Don't be sloppy. And for God's sake, stop drinking like it's your job. You'll lose control."
Saint straightened, the intensity receding, leaving him looking tired. "Go home, Baby. Now. Before you do something you can't blame on the alcohol."
Baby stared at him, chewing on the inside of his cheek. The dark look in Saint's eyes had been replaced by a stern, yet strangely concerned, scrutiny. It felt like a warning, not a threat.
"Make me," Baby challenged, his voice defiant.
He smirked at Saint and finally walked away, leaving the brooding man standing alone in the dimly lit passage.