Chapter One

For the fourth time that evening, Gilbert gave a languid sigh and rubbed his temples.

"Hombre," frowned Antonio behind the bar, "you're going to scare away all my customers if you keep that up. It's been tough keeping this place afloat as it is. Why don't you stir up a little trouble? The patrons love a lively atmosphere."

"Not tonight, buddy," said Gilbert with a shake of his head. His pale blonde hair was messy and untamed, though his tailored suit suggested that he could look the part of a millionaire if he put some effort into it.

"Trouble at work?" inquired the Spaniard as he polished a recently rinsed brandy glass.

"My grandfather's flying to a conference in Las Angeles tomorrow morning, which means I've got to keep everything running smoothly at this end," he explained. "And there's some important shit about buying out Edelstein Inc. during tomorrow's meeting that I'm in charge of. Gramps wants me to do everything to get our hands on them." He ran his fingers around the edge of the beer bottle's lip in front of him on the counter. There were dark circles beginning to form under his eyes, which seemed bloodshot from his obvious lack of sleep.

"So what's the problem?"

"I'm a lazy asshole, and I hate this job."

"Right, right," nodded Antonio with a chuckle. "I wouldn't complain, if I were you. I'd kill to be born with your privileges. You're the grandson of a business tycoon, dios mío. You wanted to be a writer, didn't you? Or was it a flutist?"

"You're one to talk. Look at this dump."

"It's just a summer job," muttered Antonio. He put the glass down. "To save up for the–"

"The restaurant, I know. That little Italian's got your wrapped around his finger, eh? I wouldn't work two jobs just to see his dreams come true."

"It's a joint objective," huffed the Spaniard. "I wanted a restaurant, and Lovino wants to be a chef."

"You think he's actually committed to something like that?"

"He's actually quite the cook. You'd know if you came over once and a while."

"But when I come over, he's always got you cooking. You're whipped, man."

"He's pulling his weight, too. He's working for his grandfather at the pizzeria."

"Whipped," insisted Gilbert.

"You're just cranky because you're not getting any."

Gilbert looked up from his now-empty beer bottle. "I could get laid any day of the week."

"Is that a challenge, ¿hermano?"

"How much were you thinking?"

"You're the rich boy, you tell me," grinned Antonio.

"I don't even know the challenge."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Fine," said Gilbert with a roll of the eyes. "If I win, whatever the hell the task may be, I get free drinks for the next two weeks. If you win, which won't happen, I'll give you one grand to help with your restaurant down payment."

Antonio raised his eyebrows in surprise. He thought about it for only a moment and said, "Deal."

"The deal it is. So, what devious trial do you have for me?"

"You see that guy over there?" inquired the Spaniard. He turned ever so slightly from behind the bar to point Gilbert in the right direction. Said guy was at the other end of the bar. "If you can get him to leave with you before last call, you win."

He was wearing a neatly pressed white dress shirt, accompanied with a dark navy blue sports jacket folded across the bar table. His dark brown hair had clearly been combed into a state of perfectness; save for one rogue curl that had a mind of its own. His dark rimmed glasses blocked a clear view of his eyes, but Gilbert was already rendered speechless by his delicate features. He looked like something from a fashion magazine cover; too perfect and out of place in a crummy bar like this one.

Gilbert turned back to Antonio. "I don't swing that way," he said.

"You already accepted the challenge," shrugged the Spaniard with a grin. "Unless this means you're going to give me the one grand without putting up a fight. ¡Ay! Just wait until I tell Lovino: only six more grand to go!"

"Oh, shut up. I'm not kissing my money away that easily. Just give me a sec'."

"Take all the time you need. You've got till closing time," said Antonio with a delighted chuckle and smile. "But once you play for our team, I guarantee you won't go back."

"Seven thousand?" Gilbert said, suddenly remembering.

"That's just the down payment," he sighed somewhat sadly. "Lovi has certain expectations. He doesn't want some crapper like this place."

"I really hope your boss isn't around to hear that."

Gilbert rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat as he looked over to the man again. He wasn't exactly hard on the eyes, which was a bonus he had to admit. But what if he didn't have any interest in men? What if he had a girlfriend or a wife? Gilbert had had his fair share of angry boyfriends, what with all his female misadventures, but this was a little different. Nevertheless, Gilbert Beilshmidt wasn't one to back down from a fight, or part from an easy thousand just because he didn't try.

There was a copy of the stocks section of the newspaper in front of him. That was something to start with. On top of that, his dishevelled tie and slight scowl was the universal language for a businessman's tough day at work.

"Rough day?" asked Gilbert, taking the seat next to him. The man looked up, startled. Now that Gilbert was up-close, he noticed how stunning his eyes were. They were wide and almost innocent looking. It didn't seem to suit him, but it worked.

"I guess you could say that," he nodded with a sigh. The man had an accent when he spoke. It was elegant, though, and almost refined.

"I know the feeling. Hey, let me buy you a drink."

"Much obliged."

Gilbert signalled Antonio over. "Two beers," he ordered. "The market's crap, huh?" he said as the bartender placed to bottles on the counter's surface. There was a small grin on Antonio's face. Gilbert ignored him as he walked back to the other side of bar to clean a table or two.

"You have no idea," the man nodded with another sigh. His breath smelled of bourbon and mint. It was nice, maybe even calming.

"Well, whatever you do, don't buy into Edelstein Inc."

"Oh?" he said. His interest was suddenly bought. Both his eyes were brimming with a soft curiosity.

"A little birdie told me Beilshmidt Global is going to buy them out tomorrow. They'll try to, at least." Gilbert took a sip of his beer.

"I highly doubt that," said the man. There was a tone of slight amusement in his voice that made Gilbert suddenly sit on the edge of his chair. It was like listening to music.

"Why would that be?" he inquired.

"I happen to know for a fact that they won't be selling at all. I hear it's the other way around."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"A little birdie," he smirked. Gilbert's heart skipped a beat, only God knew why. How was it possible to have such a beautiful face?

Gilbert smiled and stuck out his hand for a shake. "Gilbert."

The man shook it with an equally amiable smile. "Roderich," he said. His name seemed to roll off of his own tongue.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You're speech. You're pronunciation, more specifically. It's very slight, but I can tell."

"I'm from Austria," he nodded.

"Well, Mr. Roderich the Austrian. Are you here for business or pleasure?"

"The former," he said. He looked back at the newspaper, suddenly lost in thought.

"Was it strictly the former?"

And just then, Roderich laughed, and Gilbert's chest became tight. It was stunning. It was wonderful. Gilbert could hardly believe it.

"Are you flirting with me, Mr. Gilbert?" asked Roderich, smiling.

"I don't know. Is it working?"

"Maybe after another beer or two," he suggested.

"Ah, well if I need to get you drunk before my moves start working, bring on the tequila."

"These aren't the moves?"

"Roddy, baby, you better wait and see," he beamed like an idiot.

At the other end of the bar, Antonio silently kissed his money goodbye.

ӜӜӜ

His kisses were soft at first, but by the time they managed to stumble into Roderich's hotel room, Gilbert couldn't resist. The Austrian had such soft lips and tasted of neat tequila that it would have been a struggle to try and prolong the engagement. Gilbert combed his fingers through Roderich's dark brown hair, noticing how soft it was. Model. He was definitely a model. Maybe he was lying about his day job. Or maybe he posed part time. Gilbert couldn't tell. How could anyone look so Goddamn amazing and work in a cubicle all day?

"Ah!" gasped Roderich as Gilbert stroked over that one particular curl. How odd. Perhaps it was also because he was kissing a specific part of his pale, but perfect neck. That was probably it.

"Bed?" he whispered into Roderich's ear.

"Yes," was the only word the Austrian tourist could utter.

Clothes were shed quickly and clumsily, leaving a trail of evidence behind them before they crashed onto the mattress together, completely exposed. Their touches were fervent, their inhales heated, and their motions untamed.

"Gilbert," he murmured, clutching to Gilbert's shoulders. "Hurry up. Please." His face was flushed. It was adorable.

"Patience, princess," shushed Gilbert as he placed a hand on Roderich's bare chest. "I've got this." Roderich bucked his hips into Gilbert in protest. Clearly patience at that moment was not a virtue. "Where do you keep your condoms?"

"Nightstand drawer," he said without missing a beat.

"My sex-ed teacher used to say that safety was sexy."

Roderich laughed again, face still red and flesh still hot.

Once Gilbert had slipped it on, he leaned over and kissed Roderich once more. This time, it wasn't rushed, even though their hearts were beating at a unanimously fast rate. Gilbert took his time, exploring Roderich's mouth like he had until the end of time.

Finally, Gilbert inserted a single digit, prompting a gasp and squirm from the Austrian beneath him. Gilbert kissed him down his jawline, and then down his neck, rewarding him for his tolerance. Then, he slowly inserted a second finger, causing Roderich to groan loudly.

"Oh, Gott, Gilbert," he whined as Gilbert began a scissoring motion. There was a strange sense of satisfaction watching Roderich as he tilted his head back in pleasure. "Please. Just–"

"I don't want to hurt you," explained Gilbert.

"In case you haven't noticed," muttered Roderich. "I'm not a woman. I can take it." Gilbert kissed Roderich again, pecking his lips to his forehead.

"If you insist," he said.

When Gilbert inserted himself, it made Roderich's toes curl up in shock. Once the initial burn was gone from the friction of their skin, all Roderick could feel was the contentment of behind filled. The thrusts were slow at first, but they quickly found their rhythm as their shadows mimicked their dance on the opposite wall.

ӜӜӜ

"You're late," frowned Elizabeta as she struggled to comb back Gilbert's hair. "Where the hell were you? I've called you at least five times! Don't you ever answer your phone?"

"I got a little caught up," he cleared his throat.

"Jesus Christ, you smell awful," snapped his personal assistant. She reached into her pocket for an entire box of mints. She tossed them to him, which he promptly and obediently began popping into his mouth. "You were at Antonio's again, weren't you?" Gilbert didn't respond. Elizabeta was always right.

"Who the hell arranges meetings at nine in the morning?" he frowned. He had a slight headache, but he had to admit that he didn't regret a thing.

"I did," huffed the Hungarian, vexed.

"You of all people know that I can pull a game face this damn early."

"Oh, shut it. The representatives from Edelstein Inc. are already waiting for you."

"Thanks," he muttered as he brushed past her. "Do me a favour, sweetheart. Go grab me a cup of coffee. I'll call you in if I need anything."

"I'm in charge of your scheduling, not the coffee run. Now, get going. Your brother's already there."

Through the glass walls, Gilbert saw his younger brother studiously scanning over some paperwork. The three representatives were facing towards him, backs to Gilbert as he entered the room. "You're late," observed Ludwig stoically.

"Fashionably," he winked to the younger German. "Please accept my apologies, gentlemen. I couldn't find my keys."

As Gilbert sat down on the other side of the table next to Ludwig, he looked up to look his potential business partners in the eye. The first man on the very left was Francis Bonnefoy, an internationally known arbitrator amongst the corporate ranks, although nowadays he was mainly known for being Edelstein Inc.'s chief lawyer. The next man was a sour looking Swiss by the name of Vash Zwigli. There were nasty rumours going around that he was an ex-arms dealer turned head of security, but nothing was ever proven thanks to the wonderfully thorough work of the French lawyer beside him. But the last man at the table stunned him into being speechless.

It all came rushing back to him.

No wonder he looked so familiar. He was the fucking vice-president and prodigal son of the Edelstein fortune! Gilbert frowned, trying his best to hide the shock, which seemed equally shared on Roderich's face.

"I'll be damned," muttered Gilbert under his breath.

"What was that?" asked his brother.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" insisted Francis charismatically. His smile was charming and bright, which pissed Gilbert off for some reason. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but managed to nod.

"As was discussed last month," began Ludwig, "recent financial prosperity will prove to be advantageous if combined efforts between our two companies continue."

"We couldn't agree more," said Roderich. His voice was flat and not at all the same as the night before. There was very little room for character. It was dull and just as serious as his younger brother's. "However, we are concerned about the rapid growth of your company. You've bought out several companies in the last six months. Aren't you worried that too quick an expansion may cause a collapse?"

"I can assure you that we have been planning well in advance. Beilshmidt Global has only been considering self-sustaining companies that have nowhere else to go but up."

"Then what is your proposal for today?" inquired Francis.

"We'd obviously like to buy you out," said Gilbert.

"I'm afraid a total corporate takeover would not be on the table," retorted Roderich.

"Why do you say that, Mr. Edelstein?" he questioned.

"This company is worth far more to me than any other company can afford."

"If it's money, we pay quite handsomely."

"I'm well aware. It takes a lot to claim Yao International and Braginski Productions in less than two weeks."

"That news hasn't been announced yet," frowned Ludwig, somewhat concerned.

"A little birdie told me," shrugged Roderich. Gilbert could have sworn he saw the Austrian grin, but the expression disappeared as quickly as it had come. "Let's just say I make it my business to know business."

"Then what do you suggest?" asked Gilbert. "Beilshmidt Global is still very much interested in your company."

"Then invest like everybody else," snapped the Swiss, who had been silent in the entirety of the meeting. Roderich placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back into his quiet state. Gilbert frowned slightly at the action, though he didn't know why.

"I would like to suggest a partnership, if it must come to that. We are also very much interested in expanding our business relations."

"How much were you thinking?" said Gilbert.

"Ten million for seven percent of the company," stated Francis bluntly.

Gilbert and Ludwig exchanged doubtful looks.

"It's kind of steep," commented the eldest brother.

"That's business for you," said Roderich. "But we're willing to hear a counterproposal."

"Would you give us some time to think?" asked Ludwig.

"But of course," nodded the Austrian.

All five of them stood up from the table respectfully, shaking each other's hands like the gentlemen they dressed up to be.

"We're actually having a party for the aforementioned success with Yao International and Braginski Productions tomorrow. It was supposed to be announced at the party," explained Ludwig. "It would be an honour if you all attended."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Francis. "We look forward to attending."

"I'll tell my head of security to put your names on the list," nodded the younger brother. He gestured towards the door. "Please, this way."

The three of them filed out of the room, Ludwig following them to the door and then shutting it closed. "Seven percent," he muttered bitterly. "That's a joke."

"Yeah, sure," nodded Gilbert. He watched Roderich until he was out of view.

"Brother?"

"Yes?" said Gilbert absently.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Never better," he nodded.

"Well, okay then. Nevertheless, seven percent is ridiculous. We'll have to aim a little higher. I'll make a call to Las Angeles and ask grandfather for some advice– Are you even listening, Gilbert?"

"Ja, totally! Actually, I was thinking I could talk to him."

"Do you mean Edelstein?"

"I think I can convince him to bump it up a few percent."

Ludwig frowned in suspicion. "I've never seen you take initiative like this before. Did you hit your head this morning?"

"I'm fine," he said with a roll of the eyes.

"If you insist, I won't stop you. You know a good deal when you see one."

"Great. I'll let you know tomorrow at the party."

ӜӜӜ

He knocked the door. It was on his fifth knock that he was finally answered.

"What the hell are you doing here?" fumed Roderich. He looked from left to right, hoping that nobody saw Gilbert arrive.

"Oh, good. I wasn't sure if this was the right hotel. I wanted to talk to you, Mr. Edelstein."

"I gave my business card to your secretary already. Call and have an appointment arranged."

"Elizabeta? She's not my secretary. And I'm pretty sure I didn't have to make an appointment with you last night."

"That was before I knew you were trying to put my family out of business. I advise that you go before Vash catches you. If you're lucky, you'll get away with broken knees." Roderich was about to close the door, but Gilbert managed to stick his foot inside before it closed completely.

"I'm just here to talk about business," he said sincerely. "And in all fairness, you didn't exactly tell me who you were either. I think we're pretty even."

Roderich glared at him suspiciously, but reluctantly let him inside. "Right, then," he mumbled. "What do you wish to discuss?"

"Wow," whistled Gilbert. "This place is a lot more impressive now that I can actually see it." The double suit was decorated with fine pieces of art, fresh flowers in various vases, and from the corner of Gilbert's eye, he could have sworn he saw a massive pool of a bathtub.

"Mr. Beilshmidt, please get to the point."

Gilbert pressed Roderich up against the door, snatching the Austrian's chin in his hand. He looked into his eyes, hungry and admiring. "We want fifteen percent."

"W-what?" stuttered Roderich, taken by surprise. "For ten million? That's a rip off." Gilbert forced his lips to Roderich's, effectively shutting him up. He was still as delicious as yesterday. He pulled away slightly, amazed when Roderich decided to follow. Gilbert finally broke the kiss.

"Fifteen percent, princess. That's all I'm asking."

"Nine percent," he frowned in protest.

Gilbert sighed. He kissed Roderich's neck, taking in his scent. He was fresh and smelled a little like soap. He must have just taken a shower, for his hair was a little damp. Gilbert hummed happily, slipping his hand under Roderich's dress shirt. "Last night was awesome," he whispered into the Austrian's ear, low and irresistible. "I thought about you all day."

"S-stop," whined Roderich. It was a soft plea, but it was also half-hearted. "The last thing we both need is a scandal, Mr. Beilshmidt."

"There's no need to be so formal," grinned Gilbert.

"But seriously. We can't do this. It's bad for the both of us."

"Only if we get caught," insisted Gilbert. He nibbled at Roderich's right ear, gentle and suggestive.

"I do like that idea," admitted Roderich.

"I want fifteen percent," said Gilbert again. He slipped his hand down to Roderich's belt buckle, fiddling with it to finally undo it and slip it off. Their hot breaths mixed, creating a frustratingly obvious cloud of lust around them.

"Nine point five," offered the brown haired man, flustered.

"Fifteen," remarked Gilbert assertively. He slowly unzipped Roderich's fly until his pants were loose around his hips.

"Ten."

"Fifteen, baby."

"Eleven. For goodness sake, eleven! That's my final offer!"

Gilbert smiled, pleased. "I guess I can work with that," he said as he kissed Roderich again, taking his time to enjoy the way Roderich grasped onto his shoulders like the night before.

TBC...

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