Etienne returned to his table, his playful, mischievous smile disappearing. He looked at Byron, his expression a mix of guilt and pressure. He didn't speak much.
Byron smiled at him. "Did you fix your makeup? You look damn gorgeous." He touched Etienne's plump lips. "And you changed your earrings too."
Can you believe that? What kind of man is this observant?!
"So," Etienne rested his chin on his fingers, elbows on the table, his green eyes dancing over the surface before locking onto Byron's. "Are we continuing the trip, or heading back to the hotel?"
"Did you use your electronic money without me knowing?" Byron asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"No, I didn't, babe. I didn't…" Etienne giggled because Byron looked so cute. He reached out, touching Byron's cheek softly before giving it a playful pinch. "You really want to provide so much, don't you?"
Byron raised an eyebrow as he realized Etienne clearly had no idea how easily someone's location could be tracked through electronic transactions. He had already explained it back at the hotel before driving Etienne to the mall—why using electronic payments wasn't safe for them. Then, it hit Byron: Etienne had been drying his hair during the briefing.
Byron was too lazy to repeat himself. As long as he kept Etienne's cards in his wallet, they would be safe.
"If you didn't use your cards, then we can leave tomorrow and rest tonight," Byron said with a smile.
Back at the hotel, Byron looked exhausted. He removed his shirt, revealing his chiseled, muscular body with a defined line of chest hair. Yawning, he said, "There, you take the bed. I'm sleeping on the sofa tonight. The blanket is mine."
Byron sat on the sofa and covered himself with the blanket.
Etienne, still sitting on the bed, flirted with a graceful, feminine gesture as he slowly removed his high heels. "Tonight is cold… What is a bed without a blanket?"
Byron raised an eyebrow when he caught sight of those beautifully smooth feet.
Knowing his prey had taken the bait, Etienne smiled flirtatiously and slowly rolled over the bed, deliberately showing off his bouncy ass. "Would you really let me sleep through a cold night… uncovered, Byron?"
It didn't take a genius to read what Byron wanted right now, but he was learning from his mistake yesterday. Was this an invitation?
Etienne chuckled. "I need my blanket… and strong arms to hold me tight until morning comes…"
Was this a trick? Part of the game? Or was he just teasing? Byron needed to be sure this time—he wouldn't make a move unless he was certain Etienne was truly inviting him to bed.
"I'm missing my blanket…" Etienne rolled onto his back, lifting his shirt slightly to expose his chest while biting his lower lip. His eyes, dark with mischief, locked onto Byron's, sending an unmistakable invitation. He lifted both legs, resting them against his chest in an enticing pose.
"You want your blanket?" Byron said, completely unbothered. "Come and get it."
How can he be unbothered?! I know he's interested in me—he just needs a little push!
"What's wrong, Byron? Too old to handle me? I thought I was the older one."
Byron responded with snores, making Etienne pouts.
Frustrated, he got up from the bed and reached for Byron's blanket, but before he could grab it, Byron caught his wrist and pulled him down into his chest.
Now, Etienne was trapped, and Byron laughed in satisfaction.
"I can't believe I fell into your stupid trap!" Etienne giggled, trying to yank himself free, but it was useless. Byron dragged him down onto the sofa, pinning him in place with his body.
"But you did," Byron laughed.
"Let me go!" Etienne protested, pushing against Byron with a spoiled, pouty tone—almost as if he wanted to be indulged.
"You said you were cold? Now you've got your blanket and heater right here." Byron snuggled closer, and they both ended up in a spooning position.
"The bed is lonely," Etienne murmured playfully.
"We can move there if you want," Byron said, pressing a soft kiss to Etienne's temple.
"No, it's already comfortable now. I'll have sweet dreams tonight." Etienne guided Byron's arms to hold him tighter from behind.
And just like that, they fell asleep, warm in each other's embrace.
***
The next day, as they checked out of the hotel, Etienne felt much better now that he had finally taken off that black gown dress and put on something else. He wore a black cropped top with long sleeves, a choker with a ring attached to it, and a pair of leggings that perfectly showcased his beautiful legs and bouncy ass. Wherever he walked, heads turned—no matter the gender, no matter the age. Whether the stares were filled with disgust or desire, as long as people looked, Etienne was happy.
Byron waited in the parking lot, arms crossed, leaning against his motorcycle. What was he wearing? Yep, that plain white shirt anyone could buy at a mini-market, paired with blue jeans and boots—the only things he had bought the night before. He had also picked up a thick canvas jacket, but right now, he wanted to feel the hot wind against his skin, so he kept it tucked into his canvas backpack, which was stuffed with Etienne's things.
"Are you done?" Byron asked with a lazy smirk.
"It was just a 12-minute laundry run. Why so grumpy?" Etienne leaned in and playfully booped Byron's lips, making a subtle smile curve along Byron's mouth.
Byron hooked a finger around Etienne's choker, giving it a slight tug. "What is this? A dog's leash as an accessory? You should've worn it last night—you wouldn't have lasted until now."
"No thanks, I won't be wearing it anywhere near a sex offender," Etienne joked playfully, pressing the tip of his nose against Byron's.
With their lips so close, Byron was tempted to kiss those sexy, plump lips, but before he could, Etienne slipped away.
"Let's go, babe. Ranggolan next!" he chimed.
Byron raised an eyebrow but didn't chase after the lips that got away. I'll get it later, I'll get that opportunity, oh I will!
As he positioned himself to drive, Etienne noticed the backpack was in the way, and he disliked it. With a huff, he pulled the backpack off Byron's back and slung it over his own shoulders.
"Oh God… so heavy… and you carried it like it was nothing," Etienne complains.
Byron turned around to face Etienne, took the backpack from him, and placed it in front of him, just behind the steering wheel. "Don't carry heavy stuff; it'll make you hunchbacked."
Etienne giggled and wrapped his arms around Byron's torso from behind, hugging him tightly, pressing his cheek against Byron's neck, and taking in his scent with eyes closed.
"Hmm… such comfort," he sighed.
Byron puts on his sunglasses, and started the motorcycle. Their journey continued—across the gulfs, under the sunshine. Everything is beautiful when you're in love.
The road was lonely. Byron looked behind him while the motorcycle was still running, fearlessly locking eyes with Etienne. He admired the beauty hidden within them—beyond the mask, beyond the mischief, there lurked a soul so captivating it could intimidate. But he wasn't afraid. He would gaze into that soul, unshaken, and like a smirking abyss, she would smile back at him.
"What are you doing? You're scaring me—look at the road already!" Etienne poked Byron's cheek.
"Not looking back until I get a kiss," Byron said, completely enamored. Even if they crashed, at least the last thing he'd be looking at is the most beautiful thing in the world.
Etienne giggled before giving him a deep, lingering kiss on the lips.
The sun set, painting the sky in hues of vermilion as the clouds were bathed in golden light. Day faded quickly into evening, revealing a vast, starry sky.
They had their dinner—a fish barbecue cooked over a fire camp on the beach.
A fat, bald, middle-aged man shouted a homophobic remark at them, but they were too in love to care; they just laughed it off.
When night fell, they found a motel and kissed impatiently along the corridors, their lips never parting. They didn't stop—not even when they fell onto the bed, surrendering to the fire between them.
It drove Etienne crazy—he was losing it. He grabbed onto Byron's hair tightly, screaming his name over and over. But the night was still young. They rolled over, reigniting the fire, their passion unrelenting, restless. They've been through with another before, but kissing someone had never felt this good.
They finally rested after midnight, holding each other, skin to skin, their sweat mingling as one. Etienne traced the damp chest hair on Byron's sweaty skin, his fingers moving with lazy fascination.
He noticed the many tattoos adorning Byron's body—a dragon stretching across his chest and shoulder, a snake slithering out of a mirror, and a mandala tattoo inked over his solar plexus.
"What do they mean?" Etienne asked, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing over the mandala design.
Byron glanced down at it, watching the way Etienne's touch lingered.
"Oh, that one? It's the solar plexus chakra—symbolizing strength, bravery, determination, and drive. You know, all that warrior stuff," Byron said with a shrug.
"Ooh... you're a warrior," Etienne teased, his voice laced with playful mischief.
"That's new. Usually, I get 'thief,'" Byron replied with a smirk.
Etienne grinned. "You're a warrior. Would you protect me, Mr. Warrior?"
Byron cupped his face, his fingers tracing every delicate feature, memorizing him, admiring him, as if trying to etch his beauty into his soul.
"To hell and back," he murmured, tilting Etienne's chin up before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips.
When they pulled apart, Byron whispered against his mouth, "You're so beautiful…"
Not sure how, the words triggered something deep within Etienne—a memory buried in the past. A time long ago, when someone else had taken his face in their hands and told him the same thing.
Back when he was just a young boy…
In the forgotten memories of his childhood, he could only remember one thing—a tall figure with gray hair tilting his head, observing him with a stoic, unreadable expression.
After a few seconds, the man knelt before Etienne, placing a hand on his jaw to get a better look at him.
It felt strange, Etienne recalled. As if the man was seeing through him, stripping him bare without a touch. Only when he grew older did he realize what that man had been doing to his juvenile, innocent self.
The man smirked and said, "You're so beautiful."
And that's… how it all started.
It didn't just leave scars on his heart—it was his first taste of abandonment, of feeling used. The aching certainty that no matter how hard he tried, it would never be enough. He was never beautiful enough, never pretty enough, never valuable enough.
And that's why he deserved the beatings. The suffering.
It was all his fault.
At some point, Etienne was damaged enough that he stopped looking at his own reflection. He couldn't stand the ugly, hollow figure staring back at him.
As he grew older, he healed. He moved on. But the lesson stayed.
All men are the same. They fall in love with beauty, do anything to own it, and once they have what they want—they destroy it and leave.