Vincent revved the bike out of the diner parking lot, pretending to be in high spirits. The night air slapped against his face, but his grin was a mask. Behind him, Marcus leaned gently against his back, humming some tune Vincent didn't recognize.
One more slip and I'll start charging this guy for oxygen, Vincent muttered in his mind. He had spent hours babysitting this so-called Alzheimer's patient, burning through his patience, his wallet, and—worst of all—his precious time.
But he couldn't drop Marcus just yet. Not when his card, his PIN, and his entire fortune dangled in front of him like a carrot teasing a starving rabbit.
---
They stopped at a lonely gas station a few miles down the highway. Fluorescent lights flickered above the pumps, buzzing faintly like mosquitoes. Vincent rolled the bike up, yanked out the nozzle, and began filling the tank to the max.
The meter ticked upward.
$20.
$40.
$60.
$78.40.
Vincent's eyes widened. What the hell—are they feeding this bike liquid gold?
While the fuel gushed in, he strutted toward the tiny cashier booth, where a bored-looking girl scrolled her phone behind the counter. Vincent leaned in, resting an elbow on the ledge.
"Nice night, huh?" he said with a grin.
She gave him a flat look.
Vincent, undeterred, tilted his head. "Bet you don't meet guys like me every night. Stolen bike, outlaw smile, mysterious road trip… Interested?"
The girl snorted. "Interested in getting paid. That'll be $78.40."
Vincent turned dramatically toward Marcus, who was staring at a vending machine like it held the secrets of the universe. "Darling Alzheimer, your turn."
Marcus didn't budge. He wandered closer to the machine, pressing his palm against the glass as though mesmerized by a pack of M&M's.
Vincent's jaw dropped. "Oi! What do you think this is, a sightseeing trip? Pay the lady!"
Marcus blinked at him, genuinely puzzled."I don't remember the pin code", his tone was almost similar to innocent child.
The cashier raised an eyebrow.
Vincent groaned, yanked out the bundle of cash Marcus had given him earlier, and slapped a hundred on the counter. "Keep the change. Buy yourself a better attitude."
The girl smirked. "Thanks, outlaw."
Vincent stormed back to Marcus, dragging him by the wrist. "Do you know what you just cost me? By the end of this road trip, all twenty grand will vanish faster than a virgin in a strip club!"
Marcus tilted his head innocently. "But the tank is full now. Isn't that good?"
Vincent let out a strangled laugh. "Good? I swear you're going to send me to therapy by the end of this stupid road trip"
---
Back on the bike, they drove until the neon lights of a shabby roadside motel flickered into view. The sign buzzed: Rooms. Cheap Rates. No Questions Asked.
Vincent chuckled. "Perfect. Even the cockroaches here probably pay rent."
But before he could joke further, Marcus tapped his shoulder. "Stop here. I need to sleep."
Vincent parked, pulling off his helmet. "Sleep? You? You've been on autopilot all day, humming and wandering like a zombie. And now you're tired?"
Marcus nodded seriously. "Yes. My body feels heavy."
Vincent rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Maybe this was good. If Marcus rested, Vincent could poke around his wallet again—or maybe push harder about the PIN. "Fine. One night in hell's discount suite coming right up."
---
The motel was bit dark themed and faintly smelling alcohol. Vincent saw a man taking two girls inside a room and muttered something like,"ohhh lucky man"
The receptionist gave an sly smirk seeing Marcus and Vincent standing together and spoke with a husky tone," a pair of young men at night in motel .. I guess here for room"
Vincent rolled his eyes at his sly tone and spoke blankly,"yeah people come to motel for room isn't it obvious?"
Meanwhile Marcus was lost in his thoughts again.
Receptionist chuckled and handovered Vincent the room keys,"room is soundproof, enjoy both of you"
Vincent has to control his second eye roll , he just pulled Marcus hands and tugged him to the room's direction.
The motel room was dim and smelled faintly of mildew. A sagging double bed sat in the center, with a bathroom door hanging crookedly on its hinges. Vincent tossed his jacket over a chair and kicked off his boots.
"You take the bed. I'll take the floor," Marcus offered calmly.
Vincent smirked. "Oh, how noble. Don't worry, darling, I've shared worse with worse."
Marcus sat quietly on the edge of the bed, fingers tracing the blanket pattern. Vincent disappeared into the bathroom with a towel. From inside, the sound of water hitting tiles echoed through the room.
"Babysitting career, that's what this is," Vincent muttered under the shower spray. "Should've just stuck to motorcycles and wallets. Nooo, Vincent had to play nurse to Mr. Alzheimer."
---
When he finally stepped out, steam clung to his skin. He had a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, droplets of water still sliding down his chest. His hair dripped in messy strands over his forehead as he dried it with one hand.
"Alright, grandpa, don't go wandering—" he started, walking back into the room.
But Marcus wasn't sitting stiffly anymore. He was leaning back on the bed, eyes half-lidded, lips curved in the faintest smile or smirk , it was hard to identify so let's say half smirk mischievous look.
When his gaze lifted, it wasn't blank or confused—it was sharp, almost hungry.
"Tom…" Marcus whispered softly, voice husky with a strange warmth. "You finally came back."
Vincent froze mid-step. The towel slipped a little lower on his waist, but he didn't notice.
His heart skipped.
His mind screamed.
Tom? Again? What the hell—
Marcus's eyes burned into him with a tenderness that felt deliberate, not confused. For the first time, Vincent couldn't tell if this man was sick… or playing a game far darker than he imagined.
-------
PLEASE SUPPORT PRETTY LADIES AND HANDSOME GENTLEMEN,
WITH.. UMM NERVOUS,
VINCENT😖
WITH SWEET SEDUCTION,
MARCUS.🔞