Saint couldn't understand the sudden surge of anger he felt as he saw that girl kneeling in front of Baby's hips but he quickly shoved it away and termed it as general anger for the chaotic mess Baby had caused in one night.
"Baby?" The girl called softly, looking up at Baby for approval first.
Baby sighed and leaned down, kissing her wild and hot before he whispered something in her ear, causing her to blush and not.
"Okay, Baby," she whispered seductively and stood.
She adjusted her flimsy clothes that left nothing to the imagination and walked toward the door. However, she paused as she reached Saint's side, turning her face to face him.
"I'm available, handsome," she placed a hand directly on his crotch, "I don't mind having fun with two separate handsome men," she moaned softly, "My dream come true –"
"Get. Out." Saint repeated, his hand brushing hers away from his crotch.
"Don't be so hard to please, Saint. I won't stop until I've had you," she slowly licked her lips and walked away finally.
Saint closed the door and strode toward Baby who was now looking out of the balcony, an unlit smoke in his hand.
"Got a lighter?" Baby asked without turning his head.
Saint stared at Baby. Now that he had finally found him, he was surprisingly at a loss for what to do.
"No?" Baby straightened and faced Saint, a smug look on his face.
"Whoa... someone looks lethal. Angry?" Baby grinned as he stepped closer and slid his hand into Saint's pocket.
Instantly, Saint grabbed Baby's hand and pushed him up against the wall, pinning his hands above his head.
"Whao, calm down, buffalo, I was just looking for a lighter for my cigarette." Baby smiled innocently, feeling utmost satisfaction as he saw the rage in Saint's eyes.
"Do I look like I give a fuck what you're looking for?" Saint questioned lowly, his tone calm but dangerous.
Baby chuckled, "I guess not. So, how do you like the party-ouch!" He groaned and chuckled at the same time as his back got slammed back against the wall when he tried to move out of Saint's hold.
Saint scowled, his eyes blazing with tethering restraint, "Listen to me, Danvers," he spoke in a deep, dark voice, his chest rumbling with the vibrations of his voice.
"Let go of me first," Baby demanded, frowning slightly when he realised that someone might be walking and find him helpless against Saint's power.
"The only reason I'm not beating you to pulp is THC..." he continued like he hadn't heard Baby's demand.
He moved his face to Baby's ear, his slow breath fanning Baby's earlobe, "But, there's a limit to what I can tolerate, Baby. Do not test me."
"What are you going to do to me?" Baby whispered right back, pushing away the weird, crazy feeling he got from Saint's soft breaths against his sensitive skin.
Saint chuckled lowly, a rich sound that had Baby's thoughts pausing and spiralling for the briefest of seconds.
"Try me, Baby. I dare you to test me after tonight. I promise you, you will come to understand exactly why insaid that I'm no saint –"
"Fuck you, Saint Kross. Fuck your thoughts. Fuck your goals. I did what I did, and if I ever feel like it, I'll throw a party in my own darned apartment," he snapped and suddenly lodged his knee upward.
"Fuck!" Saint immediately released Baby and covered his hands over his crotch.
He doubled over and groaned painfully, "You knead my fucking balls!" Saint growled, his face flushing from pain.
"Touch me again and I promise more pain, Kross. Trust me, I'm no saint, either, and unlike you, I don't pretend I am," Baby walked over to Saint and smirked at his painfully contorted face, "Stay away from me, Saint, or else, your life's going to be as painful as it feels down there." He chuckled and walked toward the door.
However, he suddenly choked as Saint brutally pulled him back behind his collar, throwing him down on the floor and pinning him down between his legs.
"Bastard!" Baby threw a punch at Saint's face but ended up hitting Saint's waiting hand and in the blink of an eye, his hands were once again pinned above his head on the floor.
"You know what? THC isn't watching the apartment. So how about I beat you spoiled little ass to pulp and by morning you'll have no proof to show," He grinned down at Baby's glaring face.
"Everyone knows you're a party monster. They'd think you probably got yourself drunk and got in a fight. What do you say, Baby?" He whispered huskily, his chest heaving angrily.
Saint's grip was iron; Baby's wrists stung under the pressure. For a second, the world narrowed to the hard press of Saint's knees at Baby's sides and the smell of alcohol and cologne and something colder—danger—filling his nostrils.
"You think you can just run your life like this and expect no consequences?" Saint hissed, chin close enough that Baby could feel breath on his lips.
Baby spat against him, fury and humiliation braided into a single bright thing. "You think you're the one to lecture me? You walk into my life and act like you own the place, drawing my spotlight away!" He glared, his chest rising and falling in sharp breaths.
Saint's jaw worked. For a beat, he was all teeth and danger. Then, with a movement so quick Baby barely registered it, he let go. Baby rolled to his side, scrambling up, heart slamming against his ribs.
"Don't," Saint said, voice low and raw. "Don't make me do something I'll regret."
Baby shoved off the floor, hitting the balcony railing and steadying himself with a hand. He laughed—too loud, too brittle. "Regret? From you? Save it. You came here to seek control. You failed. Ashamed?"
Saint moved closer until they were a breath apart. The balcony air felt thin; the city lights below glittered like indifferent witnesses.
"You threw a party to humiliate me," Saint said softly, and the quiet ruined Baby more than the shouting ever could. "You used our house—my house—as bait."
"This is my apartment," Baby snapped back. "Last I checked, I pay for the roof."
"You let people use it to film others without consent," Saint cut in. "You made private things public on purpose. That's reckless. It's not just childish—people get hurt."
Baby's face burned with a dozen things: shame, defiance, and underneath both, a hot, unfamiliar ache that had nothing to do with pride. "They were volunteers. They wanted it."
"Do you even listen to yourself?" Saint's eyes flashed. "You think because you can buy attention you can erase consequences. THC does not care about your excuses."
A sharp knock at the balcony door made them both jump. Cam's voice filtered through, rough from drink. "Baby? Dude? You okay out there?"
Baby's hand curled into a fist. He wanted to tell Cam to go away, to handle this alone, to prove that he could. Instead, he straightened and wiped his face like he hadn't been on the verge of breaking. "Yeah. I'm fine. Tell the idiots to leave."
Cam peered around and took in the scene—Saint rigid, Baby flushed and cross-armed—then raised an eyebrow and retreated without comment.
Good. Privacy restored.