The stranger exuded a striking blend of power and sex. His professionally styled brown hair framed his face which held piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold secrets, sharp and unflinching. He’d left a few buttons of his shirt open, adding a rebellious undertone to his polished look. He had one gold dagger dangle hoop earring in his left ear as well as a pricey smartwatch around his wrist, both unexpected.
Hans tilted his head, amused. “Can I buy you a beer?”
The stranger didn’t even glance at him. “I buy my own drinks.” He answered in English with a strong accent. Interesting. His voice was smooth, steady, with just enough bite to make Hans lean closer.
Hans chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Independent type. I like that.” Hans switched over to English since it was obvious the man was a tourist from the United States, most likely New York. The stranger understood enough German to answer in English.
Herschel stood in front of the stranger, and he ordered an expensive vodka double without hesitation in perfect German. Hans studied him—the loosened tie, the way his shoulders filled the suit, the faint scent of expensive cologne when he leaned forward. This guy was wealthy; you could practically smell the money. But how did he earn all that money? Or was the vibrant impression merely an illusion?
“Are you on vacation?” Hans’ tone was casual as he spoke, but his unspoken curiosity hung heavy in the air.
“No.”
“Are you from around here?” Hans hoped he lived in the area, but he stuck out like a sore thumb.
He felt the man’s gaze as his eyes, sharp and playful, flicked toward him.
“Not really.” He paused, then added, “Name’s Adrik.” He switched to English again.
Hans extended his hand, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Hans.”
Adrik’s grip was firm, lingering just long enough to send a spark up Hans’ arm.
“Hans,” Adrik repeated slowly, deliberately, like he was tasting the name.
Hans raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound like the kind of guy to settle in the Baltic Sea area.”
Adrik smirked, leaning just close enough for Hans to catch the warmth of his minty breath. “And you don’t look like the kind of guy who spends his nights alone at a gay bar.”
Hans laughed, raising his glass. “Touché. Guess we’re both full of surprises.”
Hans completed his judgment of the man.Trouble. Big trouble. The kind of guy he usually told himself to avoid, but he couldn’t stop staring at him anyway.
Adrik’s shoulder brushed his, subtle but deliberate, and Hans felt another spark. “I like surprises,” he said, low and smooth.
Hans swallowed, the bar noise fading into silence. There was a charge in the air, like the entire room had tilted toward this one man. He caught the way Adrik’s gaze lingered, the curve of his lips like he was holding something back—something Hans wanted to know.
“Why haven’t you put on your wristband?” Hans asked, trying to sound casual, though his pulse was anything but.
“Wristband? What wristband?”
Hans lifted his wrist, showing the black band snug against his skin. “Look around. Three colors—black, red, and gold.”
Adrik smirked, as if he already knew where this was going. “The colors of the German flag. What do they mean?”
Hans leaned in, enjoying the game. “Black means you top, red means you bottom, and yellow means you go both ways.”
Adrik’s eyes flicked over him, sharp and unreadable. “Why does your English sound like it’s your native language?” Hans dodged the question, and he wondered—was this guy even gay, or just here to stir up shit?
“I was born in Flensburg, Germany. My family moved to San Diego when I was five. Dual citizenship.”
“California. Lucky you. Don’t know why you didn’t stay there.”
Hans shrugged, but before he could answer, the bartender slid a jar of wristbands across the counter—black, red,gold. The man had clearly been listening. Hans caught his eye, then looked back at Adrik.
“Well, Adrik?”
Adrik’s face flushed red, his eyes rolling like he hated being put on the spot. Hans couldn’t help the grin tugging at his mouth.
