the finer things in life

Rhys sniffed, cold wind biting at his skin. He didn't exactly hate winter, but he didn't exactly like it, either. He was making himself hate it a bit more by painting on the balcony today, no doubt about that, but he wanted the snowy cityscape and lights from above. He could work well enough, with memory alone, yes. Didn't mean he preferred to. The images he caught, they needed to be fucking vivid for them to mean anything. Otherwise, they would be found ripped up underneath his bed, never to be looked at again.

A pitiful sneeze could be heard. "Shit," Rhys mumbled. He sighed, rubbing his temples, then stood up and went inside.

After a moment, he hurriedly ran back and brought his painting setup with him. He didn't want it to be ruined when the snowfall grew heavy again. Putting that aside safely, he dragged his feet to the kitchen and made some hot peppermint tea, rubbing his cold, red nose. Really wasn't up to much, otherwise, that afternoon. He got busy with the nightlife, and settled down without it. Wallowing, usually. It was too quiet in his nice cushy home, and his own company was agonizing. He preferred forcing others to put up with it.

He was about ready to lay around on his couch for a few hours and watch Netflix, with Cream Soda stuffed in his shirt as the cherry on that cake, when the doorbell rang.

Rhys tried to remember if he ordered room service when he'd been half awake. Maybe. It wouldn't be the first time. Completely shrugging off the fact that he had security feeds he could easily check, and the very obvious peephole on the door, Rhys stood up, walking to the front hall and yawning. He'd slept in. So groggy. Pretty normal. Normal sleep schedules? Who needed 'em. Not an asshole like him.

When he opened the door, he already hadn't been expecting much, and this was about a million times what he hadn't expected. Rhys was expressive, always had been, always would be, to a fault. When he saw Gabriel Fucking Baltimore on his doorstep, his face must've been like a tiny theme park. He could go through his emotions, list the events of the rollercoaster off.

Shock was a given. This was unprompted and undeniably personal. A part of him knew he'd be contacted by Baltimore for business purposes at some inevitable point, and he'd looked forward to getting paid handsomely for that, but this didn't taste like business, didn't look like business, wasn't business. Didn't take a rocket scientist to notice that. He had roses, and a gift. In turn, Rhys' next feeling towards Baltimore's presence was aw, hell, don't drool you absolute moron. His eyes must've been round, though. Oh, he looked perfect. Like a marble statue, for how those features were carved, elegant, subtle detail mixing in with striking. He also couldn't help but note that a portrait of this man would speak a thousand words, spark curiosity towards the many stories you could imagine played out with him as the driving force. A gaze like depths you wanted to fall into, tempting one to be a part of those stories, but afraid, as you didn't know if you'd ever climb back out of the depths again. And once you dipped your toes in, you probably wouldn't want to. That, that was truly worth fear. Rhys didn't let himself be trapped. Gabriel Baltimore appeared to want to trap him.

Or perhaps Rhys just assumed that because of how hot he was, and how much it was ruffling him. Now came the new emotion. Paralyzing, mortal embarrassment like he'd never before experienced. Baltimore, sexy fucking redhead Baltimore in a gorgeous suit and coat, bearing pretty offerings, had come to visit Rhys, gangly bedheaded blond with a kitten in his shirt, outfit being a t-shirt and underwear, heat turned way up to accommodate this grand laziness.

"Oh my god," Rhys squeaked, burning red over his freckles. "What the fuck? I mean--" he clapped a hand to his stupid mouth, then removed it and flashed the biggest grin he had in him. "Wow! You're Gabriel Baltimore! At my modest penthouse? What an occasion! I am exceptionally underdressed, so much so that it's almost impressive, but in a wholly negative way." Rhys paused, and bowed with a flourish. "Rhys Arkewright, humbly at your service!" Cream Soda fell out of his shirt in the process, plopping down and staring at Baltimore curiously. Rhys straightened and gently scooted the cat away with a foot, cringing. Please, kitty, don't get in the scary fancy man's way, don't be like daddy…

Rhys slowly took a step back to make room, cheeks still pink. "Aha. Did you want to come in? It seems like you do. Of course you do. I'm being silly and impolite. Wouldn't want you to have come all the way out here and to just, stand in the cold… Silly. I have tea, and you can sit on the couch that doesn't have the blanket and iPad on it. Or? Wherever you want? That's fine too. I have no idea why you're here, so, sit or stand wherever fits your purposes. Sir." He cleared his throat. "Mr. Baltimore, I mean." Jesus Christ this was one hundred percent the worst.

Baltimore was grinning. Rhys visibly deflated. That reaction made him feel relieved as, despite the embarrassment, it was preferable by far to having caused offense. He laughed dryly, and moved to shut the door behind the other man. Then, he received the gifts, which confirmed it was all for him. Rhys' cheeks flushed again, eyebrows furrowing. His eyes flickered down to the touch, then to Baltimore. He swallowed thickly glanced away as quickly as he'd matched his gaze at all. That was a bit too much for him, and, squinting, he noted it was likely meant to be.

"Right, right, you wouldn't be here if you didn't… but I still make it a habit to introduce myself. Add a little flair. Wouldn't be a proper Arkewright otherwise! You understand." He put his mouth in a thin line, tapping his fingers on his arm, carefully holding the presents. The fact that it was a personal visit was the whole damn reason he was jittery. Fuck! Fuck you, Baltimore. In multiple senses of the word. (Thinking that probably wasn't original in the slightest.) At least, with business, there were rules, and Rhys knew when he was fucking them up. He reveled in that awareness. Not quite knowing was so much more paranoia inducing, and he was already skilled in digging himself bigger holes than other people ever even kicked him into.

Rhys never really shut up, no matter how much he should. "Your five star treatment isn't something you expect, it's given to you on simple precedent by now, isn't it?" He quirked a brow, eyes following Baltimore removing the coat and blazer. "Can't blame me for my reaction, I think. But if we're going to talk like that, dance, modesty from you and comfort from me, so be it."

Despite the fact that it was personal, Rhys realized, with a jolt, that this was still business. Make a good impression, play along, and Baltimore would be more interested in paying for his services. He shook himself off mentally and straightened, sucking in a breath.

He followed behind Baltimore in the penthouse as it was explored a bit, with a laser focus, making sure nothing was taken. "The same could be said about your residences. Not that I've checked, but it's an educated guess." He perked up. "And thank you! The penthouse was a commission, no expense spared-- money quite well spent. A good trophy case is just as important as the trophies in it, don't you agree?" The thief smiled from ear to ear. "Presentation makes perfection."

He glanced at his own status of dress again. Scowled and rolled his eyes. How very annoying.

It took a moment of peering at Baltimore to register that he wanted Rhys to sit with him. He did so, and quicker on the draw this time, loosened his posture. Experimentally, he leaned closer to the other man while he spoke. If there were any solid facts about Rhys, it was that he excelled at bouncing back. And forth. And back again.

But man. Baltimore's behavior thus far had suggested he wanted to sleep with him, and while Rhys tasted danger, that'd never stopped him from tripping into it when it was in front of him. Rhys' caution ended with direct confrontation. He could try to and succeed in sticking away from the big spookies, but if they showed up and bat their pretty eyelashes at him-- can't argue with that, sorry!

Warning signs usually seduced him anyway. Rhys poked around on the coffee table and handed Baltimore a business card, tapping it. "For your future reference. Call anytime." He didn't remind him that his information could easily be gained from Rosales, because that wasn't what this was about. Rhys looked at the sugary smile and then down to his gifts and wondered where's the catch, where are my rules. Wasn't going to get an answer yet.

With the whole distracting Baltimore-In-His-Space thing, Rhys hadn't looked at the scarab thoroughly yet. "Hold on a moment for me, please, would you?" he said quietly, standing up abruptly after setting the artifact down softly. He bounded off upstairs, then came back, sliding down the railing of his spiral staircase. He'd fetched a fancy magnifying glass, and settled back on the couch to investigate the scarab, intent. "We do, thank you… I'm sure she'll be thrilled as well. It's an impression leaving pair of presents, Mr. Baltimore. Consider my attention caught." He chuckled. "Now, what are you catching it for? I'd have listened even without such pampering. Not that I'm opposed, simply… undeniably, terribly, terribly curious." He put the scarab aside regretfully, then sat up and brought the bouquet of roses to his face, breathing the scent in deeply.

[tom=http://i.imgur.com/I6Te2Xm.png, #76e8bc]Rhys had his mouth in a thin line. For someone with even scarier rumors around him than Rosales, Baltimore was polite, fucking pleasant, and continued to be treating this casually. The thief was starting to wonder if he'd overreacted. What the fuck was this? Could he leap off the balcony now and save himself more confusion? His death would surely mean a little rescheduling, but Vivian wasn't home, and he didn't want any of their stuff left alone. Rhys was firmly of the opinion that even if he were to pass away, these stolen valuables were theirs now, finders keepers, everyone fuck off and don't touch the shinies unless you have a bigger shiny to trade with.

He froze when touched, allowing his face to be tilted and ogled. Christ. He felt like an exotic animal, heat under his collar, his ego both delighted and wounded. And he was aroused, a good amount of the heat on his skin thanks to that. He shivered lightly as Baltimore traced his lip, eyes fluttering shut, words floating around him meaninglessly at first, like this was all a dream.

A stress based dream, clearly. Once Rhys stopped mentally skipping away (humming a tune of 'la la la, you can't catch me, life!'), long enough for what Baltimore had said to sink in, his eyes snapped open again, large and round. Demons and their toys. Everything said was flattering and objectifying. He'd been called a thing, and an impressive human-- a pedigree dog! That's what it was! Rhys giggled. "Yes, that's right! I can run through obstacle courses, hold things atop my nose, and my fur is very silky. I deserve treats, the expensive kind, and maybe you'll buy me a pretty collar!" He leaned close, his bright eyes glittering playfully. "You won't tie my leash too tight, will you? And you'll take me on walks? Oh, Gabriel, pet ownership is so difficult sometimes." He reached up to squeeze the man's hand. "And the fancy, envy causing pets are especially high maintenance, aren't they? I hope you've done your research."

Rhys never knew how he made scenes like this, even when his heart was beating so frantically. His body's panic mode was something he liked to sweep aside, because the show must go on. Still holding onto Baltimore's hand, Rhys took and moved it down, sliding it over his chest and stomach, to rest on his thigh, mouth dry. He wet his lips and chuckled. "What does being yours mean, my dear? Power and riches are a greedy little human's best friend, as are compliments to the vain, and I am both. It sounds ideal. A very big, forward offer, and the way you put it makes me sound very lucky." Where's the fine print, before I sign this contract? He was no stranger to loopholes and having more than he'd earned, but was sure Baltimore was the same. Rhys couldn't fuck around before knowing what he was fucking with.

The praise repeated in his head, making him pinker. Rhys swallowed, a syrupy, thick sort of attraction in him that left his voice heavier, falling in love with the fear and glamor. He couldn't help but go on. "…May I paint you, sometime, by chance? You're striking. And it's effortless, isn't it. You look at what's appealing to you and don't have to ask if it's… deserved, because that isn't a question. With the way people flock to religion-- or, fuck, drugs and sex-- there aren't questions about us wanting to give control to something else, to be overwhelmed."

"No question of deserving, it's not about that. Only…" He clicked his tongue. "Tick tock. Tick tock. Only a matter of time, I imagine. But I hope you'll let me pretend I'm thinking about it, pretend that I could hypothetically turn you down, before I give in."[/tom]

[tom=http://i.imgur.com/I6Te2Xm.png, #76e8bc]Rhys was a thrillseeker, it was in his blood, and nothing said thrilling like being felt up by a nightlife god in an expensive penthouse. Call him stereotypical, but some things were chased after for a reason. His eyes, lidded, lingered on Baltimore's hand. Rhys' cheeks were flushed, thinking about how this man had barged into his home without warning to claim ownership of him, both embarrassed and extremely attracted. Manta Carlos is a weird fucking place, the thief thought with another shiver.

It surprised Rhys that he resisted asking if people called Baltimore 'daddy', but that was probably because he was too distracted by a more in-general thinking with his dick, head fuzzy. "You make this sound really reasonable, huh?" he mumbled, snorting quietly.

Rhys made some sort of squeak, caught in his throat, then sighed while Baltimore left frustrating kisses on his skin. That sigh settled into a whine. He offered a lopsided, goofy, shaky grin. "I have no idea what the fuck is happening, I gotta be honest with you, but I mean--" He squirmed, and scooted forward on the couch until he could climb onto Baltimore's lap. "Shit, life is short. Nooo, I don't want space, god no... Aw, screw it." Rhys grabbed the redhead by the shirt and pulled him into a kiss, heated and eager. He also directed Baltimore's hand from his thigh to his ass.[/tom]