The silence after lingered like smoke. Grayson didn't move. His chest still heaved in the quiet, his skin flushed, jaw tight. He reached up and tugged the tie loose from around his throat, the silk sliding free with a whisper. His fingers hesitated on it for a moment, then he folded it once and set it on the desk. Kane didn't speak. He just sat behind the desk, watching him with the kind of look that stripped flesh from bone.
Grayson's voice broke the stillness. "So that's it?" he said quietly. "I say yes to the job, and everything goes back to normal?"
Kane's mouth ticked, somewhere between a smirk and a warning. "What would you like, Grayson? A contract? Candlelight?"
Grayson's throat worked. "I'm just asking what this makes...us."
Kane's eyes narrowed.
Grayson pressed on. "Because I'm not interested in being the guy who fucks the boss and then pours drinks like nothing happened. I'm not some—"
"Some what?" Kane cut in, voice suddenly sharp.
Grayson's jaw tightened. "Some toy. Some mouth."
A beat of silence stretched. The silence was long, dangerous.
Kane stood. He didn't shout. He didn't raise his voice. But the change in the room was instant.
"You think that's what I see when I look at you?" Kane asked, circling the desk slowly. "Some disposable hole who got the job because he opens his mouth?"
Grayson didn't answer. He couldn't.
Kane stepped closer. His presence was enough to pin Grayson in place, though he hadn't touched him yet. "You didn't come back for the job."
Grayson's breath hitched. "No?"
"No." Kane's voice dropped. "You came back because you can't stand not belonging to someone. Not anymore."
That hit harder than anything had so far. Grayson opened his mouth to deny it, maybe. Or to say something ugly. But Kane was already there. His hand shot up—fisted the front of Grayson's shirt—and he pulled him into a kiss that was all teeth and heat and fury. It wasn't sweet. It wasn't soft. It was a warning. A claim.
Grayson kissed back with everything he didn't have words for, hands on Kane's chest, teeth catching on his lip, breath stolen and broken between them. Kane's grip shifted to the back of his neck, the other sliding around his waist, holding him in place like he belonged nowhere else.
They didn't pull away until air became a necessity. Even then, Kane didn't let go. He just rested his forehead against Grayson's, eyes shut, breath ragged.
"You don't get to talk about what we are," he said, voice low and dark. "Not after you begged for me on your knees."
Grayson swallowed hard. Kane pulled back slowly. Composure returned like armour. He tucked his shirt back into his waistband. Refastened his belt. Eyes never leaving Grayson.
Then, coolly, "Come back tonight. You've got a shift."
Grayson blinked. "That's it?"
Kane smirked, picking the tie up from the desk and slipping it into his pocket. Grayson watched the movement, watched those fingers, that silk, something that had just minutes ago been around his throat. Holding him in place. Silencing everything but want. He thought Kane might toss it back. A silent gesture, a final flick of power. But instead, Kane stepped close. Close enough that Grayson could smell him again, sharp, clean, expensive. And then, slow as sin, Kane reached up and tucked the tie into Grayson's shirt pocket himself.
"You'll need it," he murmured. "Part of your uniform."
Grayson held still. Didn't breathe. Couldn't.
Kane's fingers lingered a beat too long against his chest, like a mark no one else could see. Then he stepped back. Just like that, it was over. The air felt thinner in his absence.
Grayson swallowed, throat tight. He didn't ask again what it meant. He already knew better. Kane was already behind the desk again, calm as ever. Like he hadn't just torn Grayson apart and stitched him back together.
"That'll be all," Kane said smoothly, like he was excusing a meeting, not dismissing a man who'd just kissed him like it meant something.
Grayson stood frozen for a second longer, then turned. The tie felt heavy in his pocket. He left without another word. And the door clicked shut behind him.
*****************
By the time Grayson got behind the bar, his hand was already throbbing.
The bandages tugged with every twist of his wrist, every shake of the tin. He gritted his teeth through it, his pace never slowing. His station was spotless. Tickets flying through. Glassware gleaming. His fingers moved on muscle memory but every motion was like sandpaper against raw skin. He didn't flinch. Wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction. Not even him.
The lighting was low, but the place was picking up. Early crowd filtering in like smoke. And Kane? He was close. That familiar static already crawled up Grayson's spine like anticipation with teeth.
Then—
A thud.
Grayson looked down.
A small bottle of painkillers landed on the bar beside his cutting board.
"Where's your tie?"
Grayson didn't look up right away. He was mid-pour, hand aching, bandages tugging like punishment. Slowly, he met Kane's gaze. "Didn't know if you wanted me marked in public."
Kane's mouth curved, slow and cruel. "If I wanted you marked, Grayson… it wouldn't be with silk."
Grayson swallowed hard. His fingers twitched at his side, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to defend himself or offer his throat. "Thought the tie was your idea of subtle."
Kane's gaze dragged down his body. "It was," he said. Then, after a beat, "That was your warning."
Before Grayson could respond, Kane's eyes flicked to the bandaged hand. "Don't bleed on my ice," Kane said smoothly, voice low and razor-sharp.
Grayson blinked. "That why you're being generous?"
"If I wanted you ruined, sweetheart…" His mouth curved, slow and dark. "It wouldn't be your hand that was sore."
He didn't wait for a reply. Just walked away like nothing in the world could shake him. Grayson stared after him for a second too long. Then popped two pills and went back to work.
Tessa slid up beside him, clocking the whole thing.
"You gonna pretend that wasn't the most loaded drug deal you've ever been a part of?" She asked under her breath, hands already stacking glasses.
Grayson snorted. "Not even top five."
Tessa grinned. "Well, I'm glad you're back. Because you and me? We work."
He didn't say anything. Just nodded once, slow. Meant it.
After that, they fell into rhythm, her running service, him managing front bar. Their teamwork was smooth, sharp, fast. People tipped better when drinks looked like magic and tasted like sin. Still, even with the rhythm, the weight of glass in his hand, the sting of gin in the air, the noise — Grayson felt off. Flat. Like something inside him hadn't quite reset. Maybe it was the way Kane had looked at him earlier. Maybe it was the tie sitting in his locker like a collar no one could see. Maybe it was the fact he couldn't stop replaying the office. The belt. His knees on the floor.
He shook it off and reached for the next order.
And then—
"Huh," Tessa said, blinking past his shoulder.
"What?" he asked without looking.
"Are we… hiring or something?"
He turned.
Holly.
Striding toward him, boots sharp against the concrete, a small pharmacy bag swinging at her side. Her face gave away nothing.
"What the hell are you doing here?" He said.
She stopped at the bar and held the bag out. "Ibuprofen. Strong stuff." Her eyes caught on the pack of painkillers already sitting beside the garnish tray. Her brow arched. "Guess someone beat me to it."
Grayson followed her gaze. "Yeah," he said, taking the bag anyway. "But yours probably come without a threat."
"Maybe," she said, tone cool. "Depends who you ask."
He frowned. "You didn't have to—"
"I figured you'd be here. Just wasn't sure if it was the right call."
He dropped his voice. "I don't know if it is either. But I didn't have much choice."
She shook her head, disapprovingly. "I thought we were both gonna ghost this place."
"Yeah. Well." His mouth twisted. "Rent's not gonna pay itself."
A voice slid in from the side, light, amused, too fucking loud.
"Technically," Connor said, leaning against the bar, "if you just sucked Kane off again, he might cover the rent."
Grayson groaned. Holly's eyes narrowed to slits.
"What?" Connor grinned. "Too soon?"
"You're a cockroach in human skin," Holly said.
"And yet," Connor replied, unfazed, "you still came here to see your boy. Sweet."
"Connor—" Grayson started.
"No, let him," Holly cut in. "The deeper he digs, the sooner someone buries him."
Connor tilted his head. "You're cute when you're mad."
"And you're disposable when you talk like that in front of your boss's favourite."
That stalled his smirk for half a beat.
He glanced toward Kane's office. "Touché."
Grayson turned back to Holly, voice low. "You should go."
Her brow furrowed. "Grayson—"
"I'm serious. This place, Kane… it's not somewhere you want to hang around."
"But you're here."
"Exactly why you shouldn't be."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't argue. Just nodded once.
Tessa called something from the service well. Grayson glanced over.
"Go," Holly said, already stepping back. "I get it. See you at home."
She turned. Connor watched her go with an unreadable look, and when she disappeared into the crowd, he muttered. "She dances like she walks. I'd tip."
Grayson's brow furrowed. "How the hell do you know she dances?"
Connor's grin was all teeth. "I have eyes. And instincts. Both of which are excellent."
"Or you're full of shit."
Connor held up his hands. "I'm just saying… If she ever needs help with rent—"
Grayson threw a wet rag at his face.
Connor ducked, grinning. "That's fair."
The music kicked up again. Lights dimmed a little more. Grayson turned back to his shaker, body already moving, mind trying to follow. But his fingers brushed the edge of the pill bottle. And he couldn't help wondering if that was the most honest thing Kane had given him all night.