Chapter Text
Tim had seen the kid at least two dozen times in the past month. Whether he was shuffling into Jack’s office nervously or coming out with his throat marked and clothing askew, he was at the club all the time now. Jack had mentioned his name once or twice in passing (“Yeah, Rhysie, good customer… very loyal.”). Tim’s heart broke every time he saw the kid wander out of his twin’s office. It wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on, but the lost, glassy look in the lanky man’s eyes was gut-wrenchingly sad.
It was a pretty normal evening for the club. People were dancing, drinks were being bought out front and drugs were being bought in the back. Tim used to hate the fact the club was a front for Jack’s drug dealing, emphasis on the used to. Now, he was just apathetic toward it all. Except for Rhys. Tim couldn’t bring himself to be apathetic about the lanky chestnut haired man.
“Tim-Tam!” Jack singsonged as he sauntered out toward the bar where his brother was working.
He looked up at his twin, taking in his slightly disheveled clothing and shit eat grin. He wasn’t even attempting to hide the fact he had just gotten laid. Tim resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the other slung his arm around the man’s shoulders. Jack was always obnoxiously jovial after he had sex.
“How’s business going, kitten? We booming?” He asked, ruffling Tim’s hair affectionately.
They were always booming. The whole city came to Hyperion, for drugs or drinks, it didn’t matter. “Yeah, good night as always.”
Jack laughed, clapping his hand against Tim’s shoulder as he moved around the bar. He poured himself a Scotch and leaned against the edge of the back counter. The moments younger twin looked at the man surveying the club, stomach dropping. Tim, by principle was a good man, but his brother…
“Aw, what’s with the long face, Timmy?” Jack asked once he noticed his brother frowning. “You look like someone said your cookies suck.”
“Sorry Jack…” Tim said automatically, offering his brother a less than genuine smile. “Just thinking is all.”
Jack snorted and shook his head at the other. “Cut that shit out, I can’t have that handsome mug of yours making my customer’s sad.”
Tim pushed his brother away in a somewhat playful manner. “Yeah, yeah… I’m gonna take a break. You want me to send Moxxi up here?”
Jack waved the other’s question off, taking place at the bar and beginning to fill drink orders for the wait staff. Tim sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he headed into the back office/lounge. His shoulders sagged as soon as he was safely inside the room. The facade he had to keep up was far more draining than he ever let on. He headed toward the one of the comfortable couches, not noticing the young chestnut haired man splayed out there.
Tim flopped down, earning a helpless little whine from the other body on the couch.
“Oh shit!” Tim exclaimed, noticing that he wasn’t alone on the couch. “Sorry, it’s so dark in here I thought I was alone and…” His eyes widened when he realized that person beside him was Rhys.
The lanky addict sat up slightly, using Tim’s knee for bracing. “Jack?”
“W-what? Oh, um, no… I’m Tim,” The bartender explained, "I'm his brother."
Rhys stared at the brunet for a long moment, eyes glassy and dull from whatever may have been coursing through him. He shifted up and crawled into Tim’s lap, cupping Tim’s cheeks in his hands. He leaned close and examined the subtle differences between the two twins. Tim tried not to fidget too much as the young man inspected him. Rhys ran his thumbs along the small smattering of freckles along the bridge of Tim’s nose.
“Not Jack…” Rhys seemed to realize, “you sound just like him.”
Tim laughed, jostling Rhys slightly in his lap. “Yeah, identical twins tend to be like that.”
Rhys laughed as well, shoulders shaking with giggles. He was still holding onto Tim’s face, hands cool against the bartender’s flushed cheeks. A lump was building in Tim's throat the longer he let Rhys sit on him. He was playing a very dangerous game: Rhys was one of Jack’s customers (probably more than that, if Tim was being completely honest) and that meant the kid was off limits. Even as the warning sirens blared in his mind, Tim let his hands settle at the hollows of Rhys’ hips.
“You have a really nice laugh.” Rhys purred, touching his forehead to Tim’s own. “And your skin… It’s so soft.”
Tim smiled awkwardly and chuckled slightly, “Thank you?”
It was Rhys’ turn to laugh at Tim’s remark. His hands slid down the bartender’s cheeks to gently stroke down the sides of his neck, teasing the hairs growing at the nape. Tim tipped his head back to chase those fingers in his hair.
Taking the action as invitation, Rhys bent forward and began snuggling his face against the other’s flush skin. Tim gasped, clutching Rhys’ hips instinctively when he felt the lanky man’s lips against his neck. The chestnut haired man moved his hands down Tim’s collar to paw clumsily at his shirt.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.” Rhys slurred against the pulse point on Tim’s neck.
Throwing out the last vestige of his self-preservation, Tim rucked Rhys’ shirt up to run his hands along the pale expanse of his torso. His fingers skirted up Rhys’ stomach, mapping out each scar and marking on his skin. The pads of his thumbs brushed over the young man’s nipples, eliciting a surprised and excited moan from him. Interesting… Tim thought, repeating the action again to see if he would get the same results. Rhys whined unabashedly and rocked his hips down.
“Please, I want… I - please!” Rhys sobbed, practically clawing at Tim’s t-shirt.
Tim took pity on the young man, stripping them both of their shirts. His eyes trailed down to the two twin scars and his hands moved to press his hands against the puckered flesh. Rhys looked down and bit his lip in worry. Bending forward, the bartender kissed the tips of the scars and then trailed his lips up to kiss Rhys’ slightly slacked mouth. It wasn’t until Tim felt something wet hit his cheeks did the brunet pull back. Tears were streaming freely from Rhys’ eyes, tracking down his flush cheeks to pool at his chin and fall onto Tim’s collarbone.
“Oh shit! Rhys, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Tim panicked, cupping the other’s jaw in an attempt to appease him somewhat.
“N-nothing… You’re just so,” Rhys hiccuped, “so gentle and nice…”
Tim’s heart twisted in agony at the very idea that someone could hurt the poor boy on his lap (much less his own twin). He reached up and pet the young addict’s hair, attempting to sooth him. The tears dried after a moment, leaving them both sitting in silence. Rhys was the first to move, resting his head against Tim’s shoulder and snuggling his face against his neck. Tim curled his fingers through Rhys’ hair in a small gesture of comfort.
“C-can we… Can we keep going?” Rhys asked after a few moments of silence.
Tim looked at him, surprised by the request. His dick twitched in renewed interest, “Um… I mean, yes, if you want to.”
Rhys nodded enthusiastically and pressed a few quick kisses to Tim’s lips. Tim returned the kisses, moving his hands down to the divots of Rhys’ hips. His fingers tugged at the fabric of the young man’s pants, pulling them lower on the man’s lithe legs. Rhys pressed his hand to the front of Tim’s tight jeans, grasping his half-mast cock through the fabric. His fingers were slightly delayed from the still present drugs in his system but they popped the button of the bartender’s jeans. Unlike Jack, Tim preferred to wear underwear, so the young man was stuck pawing at the front of his boxers.
Tim tried not laugh, moving his hip up so he could shuffle his pants and boxers down to free his cock from the straining material. Rhys gasped, eyes widening at the sight of Tim’s turgid flesh. The bartender blushed, flitting his eyes away in embarrassment. Rhys curled a loose fist around the other’s cock, giving it an experimental pump. The air punched out of Tim’s lungs, his hands clutching the young man’s bony hips.
“It’s so…” Rhys stuttered, running his hand greedily along Tim’s cock.
Tim was aware he was slightly more, endowed, than his brother but hearing it from someone who had rather intimate knowledge of his brother’s anatomy was the best kind of bad-wrong ego boost. He leaned up and kissed along Rhys’ neck, moaning quietly against the other’s skin. Rhys gasped and writhed in Tim’s lap, clutching his brunet locks with his unoccupied hand.
“I’ll take care of you, Rhys.” Tim promised under his breath.
Rhys practically started crying again, letting go of Tim’s cock to cup both cheeks in his hands to kiss him deeply. After they kissed the breath out of one another, Tim helped Rhys out of the last of his clothes. He was beautiful and pale with bruises and bite marks littered over his hips and thighs. Tim’s eyes trailed down the V of Rhys’ hips, cheeks heating impossibly hotter. Rhys seemed to stiffen the longer Tim stayed silent.
“You’re beautiful,” Tim whispered, “Rhys… You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen.”
Rhys covered his face in his hands, trying to fight back tears again. Tim reached between Rhys’ legs, rubbing his fingers along Rhys’ slit and paying special attention to his clit. The younger man gasped, throwing his head back as Tim touched him. A few muted swears fell from Tim’s mouth as he worked Rhys open with care. When the first finger slipped into Rhys’ wet heat, the addict moaned unabashedly.
The whole process was slow and tender, opening Rhys up little by little. Tim’s erection twitched against his stomach at each moan that escaped from the man above him. Rhys curled his fingers through Tim’s hair, rocking his hips down against his fingers. He keened when Tim’s thumb began circling his clit.
“Please, I’m so close,” Rhys warned. He pressed his chest to Tim’s and rocked down against the fingers inside of him.
Tim redoubled his efforts, circling Rhys’ clit and tapping a staccato rhythm against his g-spot. The addict in his lap clawed at Tim’s shoulders as his orgasm crashed down his spine. He sobbed and panted as the last of the after-shocks shuddered through him, going practically boneless for a few moments. He snuggled his face against Tim’s neck affectionately, nipping at his earlobe.
Tim felt the warm moisture against his shaft, opening his eyes (when had he closed them?) to see Rhys lifting himself up to position his entrance over the head of his cock. The young man shifted down, impaling himself with a breathless gasp. Tim cried out Rhys’ name as he threw his head back. The heat and warmth and the tightness was enough to pull Tim right to the edge. Closing his eyes again, he curled his fingers through Rhys’ hair as he began to rock his hips up to meet Rhys’ grinding down.
“Oh my god… You, fuck, you feel amazing inside me.” Rhys gasped, drunkenly kissing at Tim’s lips as he fucked himself down.
Tim tugged Rhys closer to press them chest to chest. “R-Rhys, I-oh shit-I’m so close… I want to feel you come again…”
Rhys whined, another orgasm had been building rapidly already but Tim’s words nearly kicked him over the edge. Reaching down to where they were joined, Rhys began rubbing his clit. It didn’t take more than a few thrusts to push Rhys into climax again. He threw his head back in a silent cry, spasming around Tim’s cock.
“Fuck, hell-Rhys, where do you want me come?” He asked tentatively.
Rhys whimpered, touching his forehead to Tim’s own. “You can come inside me… I-i want to feel you.”
The permission to something do so intimate (even in the situation they were already in) pulled Tim over the edge, his thrusts stuttering as he filled the other. He clutched Rhys to him as the both rode their respective aftershocks. The bartender kissed gently along Rhys’ bare shoulder. Rhys snuggled his face against Tim’s brunet locks with a blissed smile on his lips.
Rhys shivered and Tim helped the young man off his lap, lying him down on the couch. He promised Rhys he would right back and kissed him gently. It took a few moments to locate but Tim found wet-wipes and a blanket in one of the various cabinets on one side of the room. He returned to the other’s side, covering Rhys’ nude form, and settling down beside him.
Rhys shuffled close to place his head on Tim’s thigh and took one of the bartender’s hand in his own. He easily drifted off to sleep, at peace with Tim beside him. Tim let himself doze in a post-orgasmic haze one the younger man was taken care of. Neither of the men heard the sound of footsteps or noticed the door opening.