Ash

CW: 1 man nipple 

Taken aback by the sudden command, Ash obediently untied his sauce-covered shoelaces. Non-slips shoes were always a pain to remove.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” AJ’s annoyed voice came from under the bar after hearing the light thumping of the shoes hitting the wooden floors, “are you gonna take off your pants next?”  

His face rapidly turned a shade of rose when AJ glared at him from behind the shiny granite counter. Just in case the dim lighting didn’t cover his embarrassment, Ash turned his head and covered his face with his hands.

“Hmph, stop that. I’m not gonna eat you,” AJ snapped at him.

Ash was not convinced. 

“Tch. I’ve never let anyone into the bar after closing time, and now I know never to do it again.” 

Ash lowered his hand and slowly pulled off his glove. “Um…sorry.” 

“Shirt. Off.” He demanded before he bent down again, completely ignoring Ash’s apology, just like everyone else did in his life.

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark interior, he noticed how bad his shirt looked, with the many streaks and splatters of dark red and brown. It wasn’t all blood, but AJ wouldn’t know that.

Ash gulped as he considered his position. 

The beads of sweat on his face were wicked away when he pulled off his soaked t-shirt. The ceiling fans on his wet body and AJ’s permanent frown sent chills through his whole being. 

“You cold?” AJ asked as he placed a roll of gauze and a bottle of vodka on the counter. He took off his vest and started to unbutton his white dress shirt before walking towards Ash, who shrank in response. He draped his shirt over the shivering boy.  “Tch. So skinny.”

The residual warmth of the oversized shirt immediately relieved his frigid back and chest. A lingering base note of leather, smoke, and sweat from a hard day’s work surprised him. 

It was not unpleasant; actually, it was the opposite; he wanted to bury his face in the shirt. A whimper caught in Ash’s throat, and he squeezed his thighs together, hoping that AJ didn’t study him too closely.

He expected the stranger to reek of rotten cigarettes, just like all the other smokers he knew.  Rather than AJ smelling nice, maybe it was just his coworkers that smelled bad.

Another scar. This one was hidden by his collared shirt and long hair on his neck. Ash averted his eyes from AJ’s well-toned chest and tattooed arm. His desire to satisfy his curiosity clashed with his desire to stay alive. 

I wonder...what happened? 

“What? You’ve never seen a man’s chest before?” asked AJ, his voice dripping with irritation.

He took in a deep breath and rubbed his forehead, "look, I can wrap up your hand, and then you can be on your merry way. Or you can leave like this. Your choice."

Ash silently shifted in his seat, and his trembling hands clasped the sleeves of the dress shirt.

AJ clicked his tongue before kneeling in front of him. Ash turned away as AJ grasped his hand. This time, with a feather-soft touch that washed some of his fears of being murdered by the psycho.

Until AJ dumped the vodka onto Ash’s palm.

"Ouch!" Ash yelped and flinched at the burning pain, immediately withdrawing his hand.

AJ sighed, stood up, and walked away. 

He came back with a tall glass filled with ice.

He free-poured some clear alcohol with his right hand and then blue stuff into the glass. After topping it off with juice, he slid the blue-to-lemon-yellow gradient drink towards Ash with an ease that only a skilled bartender could master. 

Ash started to sweat again. He learned never to drink anything that other people offered him after his co-workers pranked him by pouring salt in the drinks.

Snake tattoo. Scar on his arm. Piercings.

This man looked like a criminal that would lace a drink with more than just salt.

AJ leaned against the bar and growled, "drink."