There was masculinity, something that Brandon had been around after his parents passed away for a long period of time. But then there was something else that he recognised when he looked at Killian Archer.
Dark masculinity.
Something much darker surrounded him than him just being a man, yet attached itself to his masculinity. Gave him an aura of a walking Demon, all were missing for the shadows surrounding him that people would usually see in Manga.
The darkness became more eminent with the features Killian possessed. The dark hair, the equally dark gray eyes, both a mix of brown? Brandon, like he had to look closer to know that for sure.
The jawline Brandon had, that he prided himself over. Was nothing in comparison to what Kian did. His cheek bones were defined to, and the stubble over his lower half of the face gave him a brutish look that made him ten times more terrifying than what he looked like when he was clean, shaving during the day.
He looked like the kind of character anyone would define as a villain in anime.
It was then Brandon noticed the built Killian had. If he did not agree to what kind of demand he had just made, Killian could easily overpower him, maybe he could even throw him down from the balcony without sweating.
The physique—
"Lost, darling boy?"
"Darl—" Brandon wanted to snap, but then remembered who he was talking to. What was it with him using such girlish endearments?
"I am not not your darling. I am your employee. Please, do not be inappropriate with me."
"So you want to get sued for trespassing and then be thrown out of the country, the very next day? Good choice, Wallace. I took you as a man with a brain."
The mockery was cleared in his words, and after the darling mentioned, he was an inch away from snapping. An inch.
Brandon cooled himself down momentarily, just to get his words across his words. "I have not trespassed. I was left here. There is a difference between coming here, willingly, knowing that I'm not allowed, and feel left here because someone forgot to inform or look for me, telling me to leave."
Killian titled his head to decide as his lip curled up. "Semantics."
It's not a fucking semantics! "It is not." He said calmly. "That."
Since the conversation was not going anywhere, but rather, just in circles, Bran decided to ask the much awaited question. "May I know where the exit is? The one I came from is locked."
"You may not." Killian took one step closer than Brandon got another way of cologne. "When are you going to get on your knees? I'm still waiting."
"Yo—" He raged, "sod off, mate. Don't cross the fucking limit."
In the flash of a second, Killian had pressed his body against his. "Sod off? Am I to take your words literally? Because if yes, give me 10 seconds."
"Ten seconds?" Bran challenged. "Sixteen year olds hold longer than that."
Killian smiled, he fucking smiled in front of Brandon and it terrified him. "The ten seconds, where to get the cameras off, but if you'd rather have me raw dog you here, I'll honor it."
Bloody hell. Somehow, this man found every way to twist these words into something Brandon did not mean. What kind of brain did this man possess?
Brandon flattened his hands across Killian's chest and pushed him with all his might before dashing away from him. Fuck Killian. He was not getting on his knees.