Chapter Text
Jere gets out of his car, slamming the drivers side door behind him. The whole vehicle shudders, side mirror coming loose. Fuck it, it'll probably get written off anyway thanks to the idiot who couldn't get off his ass.
Stalking towards the other car, Jere is officially pissed off. He didn't get a clear look at the driver behind him before the crash, too busy cussing him out and focusing on the road in front of him. What he saw wasn't at all expected - a thin, tall blonde sat in the drivers seat of the equally busted up corolla. There's blood coming from his nose, and stupid little rimless glasses slipping off his face. What gets Jere the most is the look on his face - eyes glazed and eyebrows uptilted. Pathetic little puppy. The guy is gorgeous, even in his state. Even with the ridiculous spiky white-blonde mullet he's rocking, the glasses, the blood. The ill-fitting suit. If anything, it all adds to the appeal for Jere.
He feels the anger fade a little as he approaches, but keeps up a facade, wants to make sure this guy isnt gonna fuck him over. He yanks open the door, and the pale man inside looks over to him, wincing, "Fuck, het spijt man, I-" he blinks, stopping mid sentence to touch his fingers to his face, smearing the blood down onto his lips. Oblivious to how fucking beautiful he looks. The dark red staining his pale skin and full, pink lips.
Rubies in snow.
Jere clenches his jaw, reaching an arm in and gripping the other man by his collar, pulling him up and out of the car easily. He presses him up against the back door of the vehicle, boxing him in with his body, but careful not to shake him around too much. He doesn't want to actually hurt him, not in any way both of them don't want.
Jere gives the stranger a once over, eyes greedily lingering over the smear of blood, and the exposed waistband of his underwear. Slut. He's taller than Jere, but thinner, less muscled. The temptation to hoist him up and have him right there is strong, but Jere holds himself back, flicking his gaze back up to stare into wide, bright blue eyes. Can't believe his luck that he's found this little injured bunny. The damage to his car doesn't matter anymore, he can replace it in a flash. But he wants the man in front of him, more than he's wanted anything in some time. He comes to a decision quickly, moving back and reaching into his pocket.
"Stay. I make call, get truck to tow, car for us. I pay."
Joost shakes his head, watching the other man walk a short distance off with his phone pressed to his ear. What the fuck? He's still trying to figure out what the intense eye contact was about, what any of this was about. This isn't how somebody is supposed to react to being rear-ended, right? But he can't bring himself to care through the throb of his headache and daze of what just happened. He just wants a shower and bed, to try and sleep off whatever the fuck this day turned into. The next few events happen in a kind of blur for him. The tow truck arrives, they get his details, and the handsome stranger whisks him into the backseat of another car that shows up. The driver doesn't even ask where they're going, just nods and drives off. Joost attempts to speak up, tell the stranger his address, anything. He simply smiles, reaching a hand down to rest on Joost's thigh. Why were they sitting so close again?
"Hush, enkeli. We go to my house. I... want to say thank you, ja?"
Joost frowns, even more confused, but the man is beautiful, and clearly has money. He definitely wasn't expecting a thank you of all things, after totalling this guys car, but he shrugs, and decides to give in. His life couldn't get much weirder right now, and he was kinda trapped in a car with this guy, so it was a bit late if he was some ax-murderer. He didn't look the type. He looked like some rich dickhead, if his flashy car, gold jewellery, and careless attitude told the truth. His eyes were lined with kohl, and his long dark hair was pulled back. His suit fit like a glove, showing off ample pecs and broad shoulders. Exactly Joost's type, unfortunately. The kind of guy who looked like he could lift Joost up with one hand, could manhandle him like a doll.
Fuck, oh, wrong time for those thoughts. Joost squirmed a little in his seat, trying to will away the heat between his legs. The man beside him... laughed?
A deep, short chuckle. Joost could see his amused face out of the corner of his eye, and the tips of his ears burned. He knew he was turning red, tried to play off his embarrassment by keeping his gaze fixed firmly forward, his thighs clenching together. The hand that was resting there lifted, and the man slid it up to cup the back of Joost's head, ruffling his soft hair. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper, a growl behind the words, "Näytät niin söpöltä pupun korvilla...tai pentujen korvat. Pentu, yes?"
It's Finnish, that much Joost can gather, but he doesn't know the words. He furrows his brow, opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off again - "Hollantilainen, I know. I speak English. Little little Dutch," he moves forward, still holding onto Joost's head, threading his fingers through his hair, as he whispers into his ear, "Prachtige kleine puppy."
Joost goes hot all over, his gut twisting, "English is, is fine, ja- Unh-," he stutters out, near mewling as his hair is tugged at. What is wrong with him. Nobody has ever called him that, what the fuck, how has this stranger got him down so far without even telling him his name.
"Feels like, uhn, going to your house is an activity that needs a name? Yours?" Joost cringes internally as he struggles to speak, the other man's hand still petting and tugging at him.
He smiles kindly, smoothing a thumb over Joost's jaw. "I apologise, pretty angel. My name is Jere."