Without a Choice

“Oh, these choices are horrible,” Vitaliy laughed. “Where’s Marvin Gaye when you need him?”  He tilted his neck, enjoying Casey’s actions as he looked through the rest of the records. After a minute, he let his head fall, eyes closing and lips curling into the slightest smile. And a minute after that, he pulled away just enough to reach up and pull his shirt off over his head playfully.

“Better?” he asked, giving up on the music altogether and reaching for Casey’s shirt, but not pulling on it, just lifting it a little so he could slide his palm across the man’s abs. “You wanna go to the bedroom? Might be… more comfortable.” 

Casey hummed softly, running his fingers through Vitaliy's hair softly. "Bedroom," he confirmed, sliding his hands down Vitaliy's back to encourage the man to jump and wrap his legs around him. Casey could lift him. He could carry him to the bed.

He supported Vitaliy's ass in his palms as he carried the man towards the bedroom, Casey's lips finding his neck. "Which door?" he asked softly, pressing Vitaliy against the wall. He shifted to bring his lips back to the brunet's.

"How do you want this, baby?" Casey asked against Vitaliy's lips. "What do you want?"

“Oh, that’s-” Vitaliy breathed. “That’s very good, yes. That is often how some of my best pastimes have begun.”

Vitaliy reached up and slid a hand to the side of Casey’s face, drawing him back in for another kiss. He stayed that way a minute or two, just enjoying his lips against Casey’s before he pulled back and pointed a finger at Casey’s chest.  “Get rid of that terrible beach music,” he directed, taking a step back. “It’s so bad for setting the mood. Soon, the only thing I’m gonna wanna do is get a piña colada and stand on a pier while some old people try to relive their youth on the impromptu the dance floor they’ve made for themselves. I don’t know what mood you’re going for, but I somehow don’t feel like that was it. Surely they left us something better in that record collection.” 

Casey laughed softly, ducking to kiss Vitaliy's cheek quickly. He took the record off and started thumbing through the options. "What sort of music do you like?" he asked, putting his arm around Vitaliy's waist and drawing him closer.

"Honestly, I don't normally put on music," Casey admitted. "I'm not a big music guy. But... when I do put on music, I prefer instrumental music. I don't think we have anything like that here, so what do you like?"

Casey shifted behind Vitaliy, letting Vitaliy have access to the records. He wrapped both arms around the man's waist, holding him against Casey's chest as he brought his lips to the brunet's neck. He pulled Vitaliy's shirt down a bit to give himself more access to soft skin and sucked gently.

“I’m rarely the one that needs the excuse, but I appreciate the offer,” Vitaliy answered with a sly smile as he stepped into Casey’s space. “Don’t tell me we’re going to dance. This beach music isn’t exactly romantic and you and I aren’t exactly romantic partners.”

He reached out and slid a hand up the front of Casey’s shirt. “But you don’t always need romance to enjoy one another’s company. I can think of at least a few other things we could do that only require a little mutual respect and willingness to give of your time and…body.”

His other hand landed gently on Casey’s hip. “And it’s a lot more fun than dancing.”

Casey couldn't help the smirk as he reached out to brush some of Vitaliy's hair behind his ear. "You've clearly never gone dancing with me," he teased, bringing his hand to the other man's jaw and gently tipping his head. "I have had some very fun times dancing."

The last time had been at a gallery event, and Casey had walked away, having swapped a few of the original works with his own copies. He loved passing off his work as originals and watching experts enthuse about its quality. It was the closest he was ever going to get to having his work appreciated.

Casey leaned towards Vitaliy a moment, hovering just out of reach of the man's lips. "But, I'll save that for another time," he decided, having pretended to think it over. "I should think that it would distract from this."

He closed the distance between them with a soft kiss. Casey moved slow enough that if Vitaliy wanted to pull away, it would have been easy. He wasn't sure if he'd misread the signals, so he'd wanted to make sure the brunet had an out.

When Vitaliy didn't pull back, Casey kissed him again, deeper this time. He pushed his fingers into Vitaliy's hair and pulled the other man even closer. Pulling back, Casey rested their foreheads together. "That a good start for what you were hoping for?"

“Don’t judge this place. It’s bright and fun and I’m coming back here to sit in my new hanging basket chair thing one day. They better not get rid of it,” Vitaliy said, opening the door and pushing it open for Casey. 

“And yours may be on the beach, but mine’s not not on the beach,” he added, motioning to the empty lot of grass and sand between his place and the shoreline across the vacant space. “My footpath goes all the way there.” Vitaliy pointed to the wooden boardwalk that lead from his place all the way down to the steps down in the sand.

“C’mon,” he laughed. “I would usually offer you a coffee, but all things considered, you just had coffee and that’s not what you’re here for anyway.”

Coffee was usually a nice excuse to get a guy back to his place and give them the excuse that the two of them had shared coffee if they didn’t want to confess to anything else, but something told Vitaliy that none of that mattered to Casey at all.

Setting: Vitaliy’s AirBnB 

"It's an AirBnB," Casey said, as it made perfect sense. "It's not your house. You've rented it. I can't judge you for someone else's house, can I?" He looked around at the bright, summery colours. It reminded him somewhat of his own rental. Maybe it was a trend in the area?

Casey glanced at Vitaliy and raised an eyebrow. "Normally, I'd accept coffee," he said with a smile. "But in this case, I think you have a point. If you're looking for an excuse to keep me innocently around, we could walk to the beach, find a bench, maybe talk about what expectations we might have."

Casey eyed the record player, putting on the first record he found for a bit of background music. "Alternatively, I think we both want the same thing," he began, turning to Vitaliy with a hand on his hip. "So, do you really need a distraction, or do you want to make this easy on yourself?" Casey gestured vaguely, a subtle invitation for Vitaliy to close the distance between them.

Vitaliy eyed Casey a moment. He was definitely hiding something. Vitaliy just planned to see what he was hiding in his pants long before he cared to see what he was hiding in his closet or the trunk of his car or the hidden compartment in his suitcase. He didn’t come off as a serial killer or like a man who had just hastily held up a 7-Eleven so naturally, Vitaliy assumed he was a drug dealer and shrugged it off. He’d been with his fair share of dealers in the past so this one wouldn’t be anything new. He wasn’t going to take a picture of the man’s face anyway.

“We could flip a coin, but then, you see, we run the risk of it landing on your place. And my place is so close to here I walked it without breaking a sweat.” Vitaliy shrugged. “It’s out the door, a sharp turn to the right, and then three buildings over. It is legitimately the closest house to this coffee shop in the entire town.” He look a long drink of his latte and then looked at Casey. “But if you really want to risk the coin toss…”

Casey laughed softly. "You have a great argument," he mused, tapping a finger against the table. "We could walk to your place. I'll admit mine's down on the beach. We'd have to ride there." He paused, letting his words sink in. Casey couldn't help but wonder if Vitaliy would be one of those people that refused to ride on his bike with him. In most places that Casey went to, he rented a motorcycle to get around unless he was in a city that generally was easier to get around with public transportation.

"We could go to yours, and then, after, if you want to come to mine with me, that you can either ride with me or get an Uber or Lyft and meet me there," Casey decided, leaning forward with a grin. "Lead the way, Vitaliy."

“I’m not scared of a man with good planning skills. I mean, that’s all multiple passports could possibly mean, right? Someone’s prepared for anything?” Vitaliy asked. He wasn’t actually stupid. He knew full well that someone with multiple passports probably was actually dealing in something nefarious, but it wasn’t his concern at the moment. He’d figure it out after he’d wrung a good orgasm or two of the both of them. For now, Vitaliy had few focuses outside of finishing his coffee and finding out if this man’s AirBnB rental had a better bed than this own. “I have an AirBnB too,” he answered with a knowing smile. “We could always compare the ones we have here and if things go the way we hope, we could probably make even better arrangements in the future.”

Casey laughed softly. "So either you like a little danger," he began, leaning forward slightly, "or you like the implications of a man that has a plan. Or the third possibility, you don't believe that I'm actually an International Outlaw, which, I don't blame you. I think an actual International Outlaw wouldn't admit it so easily."

Or the alternative, they'd exactly admit it and use the blatant admission as a way of deflecting suspicion.

Casey raised an eyebrow. "Or we could try both and see which we prefer," he offered, offering something of a compromise. "We could start with yours, then try mine, and decide which one we want to stay at after." He'd have to clear out some of the incriminating art at his place. A few were nearly finished forgeries that he wanted to ship out before taking off for someplace new.

"Or, we could flip a coin if you like a little randomness to it," Casey added. He wondered if Vitaliy was the type of man that would take chances like that or if he was more straight-laced. If he was a little more reckless, he might be more accepting of Casey's... profession if they made it that far.

“I grew up, uh, yeah,” Vitaliy allowed, taking another sip. He wasn’t going to pretend he ever needed or wanted anything that money could buy. It was all served to him with a bow on top the moment he opened his mouth. Now he realized he expected that kind of behavior from everyone. If it had a pricetag on it, what Vitaliy wanted, Vitaliy got. If there was a will, there was always a way.  He listened to Casey talk about paying bills and visiting Ireland and wondered if the man very often traveled or if coming here was all the getaway he managed.  “Alright, Mr. Seedy Criminal, Mr. International Outlaw, whatever you may be,” he teased Casey. He sat down his drink and put both hands flat on the table. “I’m leaving in a few days and I haven’t picked where I’m going yet. If you’re trotting the globe, hiding in shadows, and have a passport, it could be fun to maybe fly there together.” Vitaliy hoped the other man could read between the lines enough to see that he was offering a lot more than someone to warm the seat next to his. “Of course, you’d have to travel light and not be big on long term plans.”

Casey nodded. He wasn't surprised to hear that. It wasn't a bad thing, but Vitaliy definitely came across as someone that grew up with quite a lot and had it still to this day. Casey had rapidly become an expert in gauging what kind of money people might have had. He tried not to swindle or otherwise steal from people that couldn't afford it.

He hesitated a moment at the offer. Casey wondered if Vitaliy would be offering this if he knew that Casey actually was a criminal. But he couldn't risk someone that could very quickly put Casey's face and location on his Instagram and get him busted at a moment's notice. It was dangerous and reckless.

And exactly the kind of the thing that the law chasing him wouldn't expect.

"I might be doing a little trotting," Casey said eventually, tilting his head as he watched Vitaliy's reaction. "Of course, being the International Outlaw that I am, you shouldn't be surprised to find that I may have more than one passport."

Casey paused again before a slow smile spread across his face. "And if we're flying together," he said, leaning forward slightly, "we should consider staying at the same place. It would be more convenient after all. I don't know what lodgings you have, but I have a house from AirBNB."

Vitaliy cringed at Casey’s question. “Not intentionally, no,” he answered. He could hear the fear and regret mixed into his voice. “I kind of hope I’m not influencing anyone. I’m a disaster, man. I have to set all my bills to automatically draft or I’d forget to pay them. No one should take any direction from me.”  He tasted the coffee again and let it roll around on his tongue. Casey may be right about the praline. A flavoured praline, an unusual praline. He didn’t know. He wasn’t going to push it. He’d certainly had worse coffees in his life.  “I’m Ukrainian. Or my mother is. And I don’t take pictures of people,” Vitaliy answered with a smile. “Not very often anyway.” He pulled his phone back out, opened it to the image, and passed it across the table to Casey. “Why are you worried about it? On the lam? Because I promise you with that face, you aren’t about to break any cameras.” 

Alright, apparently that was what Vitaliy was here for after all. At 1:30 in the afternoon; goddamn. 

Casey laughed softly, giving Vitaliy a look. "You grew up with money then," he said. It wasn't a question. Even with his questionable life choices with the law, he was aware of bills and making payments on time. He remembered being a young kid, making tea for his mother while she poured over the bills with her checkbook in hand. Each time he looked, there were less and less checks, it seemed. "Something you learn awfully quick as a starving artist is that if you don't pay the bills, you don't have lights. If you don't have lights, then you can't paint, and if you can't paint? You don't eat."

"Ukrainian," Casey echoed. He hadn't been too far off then. At least he'd picked a Slavic region. "My grandparents were from Ireland. And admittedly, I've only been once. That probably makes me something of a bad Irishman."

Taking the phone, he scanned the picture for any kind of identifying features. Casey nodded and passed the phone back. "Maybe I am," he said, teasing lilt in his expression despite the truth of his situation. "I could be an international criminal, on the run, and only taking time to stop and enjoy beautiful company at various coffee shops across the globe."

Vitaliy smiled. “This,” he said, gesturing with his cup. “I run a blog about my travels and cups of coffee and I post a lot of YouTube and TikTok and Instagram posts about absolutely nothing. It’s not really a real job.”

He set his cup down, not entirely sure about the praline answer either, but willing to let it go for the moment while he he dug out his phone and took a quick picture of the coffee mug setting there with Casey’s hands and clothing in the background. When he finished, he put it away to post later. “My name is Vitaliy. ‘Andy’ is just easier to tell the kids at the register. You’re welcome to call me by my real name, Casey, if you’ll do me the favour of checking the receipt to see what the lattes are.”

Casey raised an eyebrow. He supposed that made sense. Not like it made any less sense than his less-than-legal work. "So you're an influencer then?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. "If it makes you feel better, I don't really have a real job either. I'm an artist with no name in the art world. I might as well be a child drawing pictures for my mother to hang on her fridge."

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you just take a picture of me?" Casey asked, masking the fear with a curious smile. As interesting as a professional influencer's idea was, he couldn't afford to have his face posted on Instagram. He wasn't keen to have to steal the man's phone. Coffee shop boy was cute.

"Vitaliy?" Casey repeated, looking at the man curiously. "Russian family? Your accent is American, but a name like that... I'm thinking Russian." His mother had told him about the artist she was hosting in the gallery next week. His name was Vitaliy something, he thought, and he was from Moscow originally, if he remembered. He grabbed the receipt and skimmed it. "Looks like we're gonna be guessing for a long time. He just rang up a latte with extra syrup. Not specific."

Darren dipped his head with a smile. “I’m glad your mother will be pleased,” he said with a quiet chuckle. He nodded as Casey declined his offer. It was a perfectly valid reason. “Good point,” he replied. “If you put up some of these sketches on a display, I’m sure you’ll get people interested no matter where you set up,” he said reassuringly.

Casey laughed softly. "She's always was my biggest fan," he said, shaking his head slightly. It was great that his mom was always in his corner. But being in his thirties with still only his mother wanting to buy his original work upset him sometimes. "Maybe, I will. Do you want to give me a hand and pick out your favourites to pin up?"

Darren listened as he watched the piece Casey was working on for him slowly come to life. He made a noise of disagreement. “Two people, actually,” he corrected, giving the man a small smile. From what he’d seen in the sketchbook and what he was watching him do now, he was definitely impressed. “You’ll find your niche audience, I’m sure,” he added after a brief pause as he looked out over the ocean. “I know a few places you can set up that might be better than down here. I can show you, if you want,” he offered.

Casey laughed softly, glancing at the man beside him. "Thanks, Darren," he said, genuinely meaning it. Granted, Casey painted in a style different than he sketched. But Darren's sentiment was appreciated. "I'm sure my mom will be excited when I tell her I gained another fan of my work."

He glanced at the boardwalk and smiled back at Darren. "While that would probably make me more money," he began, smudging the skyline on his sketch, "it brings me back to my habit of not doing what I'm supposed to. I like the boardwalk. It's mostly why I'm here."

“Well, she’s young. Probably too young to get mixed up with me. But... I probably wouldn’t say no. She’s a very beautiful young woman. But I’d definitely advise her against it. There are better men, closer to her own age out there.”

death: what are three things you want to do before you die?

“Visit where my family came from originally. Buy my own Upper East Side penthouse. And buy a second for my mother.”

the moon: have you ever written a love letter?

“I mentioned Kathy  Calloway, right?”

“Oh, I’m going to sound like an ass, but who is that? I guess, I’m going to pass. I really don’t just jump into bed with people I don’t know.”

death: what are three things you want to do before you die?

“Visit Venice, Italy. See the Mona Lisa in person. Paint my masterpiece that I’ll be remembered for long after I die.”

the fool: do you have any nicknames?

“My mother calls me ‘Case’. I had a few close friends in high school that called me that too.”