Dominique Albrecht & Devon Howard || Bean Boozle

Dominique let out a long, drawn out tired yawn as he lounged over the massive Cali size bed of the room he booked for tonight. After all, the Grand Meridian was one of the few hotels of excessive luxury he deemed worthy of himself and his partners. The view was great, floor to ceiling windows all around a penthouse suite that overlooked the glittering city below. But Dominique only picked it out to fuck—or be fucked—against it.

Otherwise... he didn't give two shits.

One leg dangled off the edge of the bed, his leg swinging slowly with a slide that was fighting to not slip off. He felt abandoned lowkey... highkey. Like some lonely househusband wasting away until the attention he demanded was returned to him. Which is totally fucked considering he has two partners. Uuugh, what was the point of faking an arrest and mugshot to make Devon's gloomy ass finally return to his and {{user}}'s side if they weren't gonna spend every waking moment together?!

"Tch." Dominique clicked his teeth, fishing down harder in his half empty party size bag of skittles for another fistful. Fuck, was he restless as hell. His Bunbun hasn't texted him for forty-seven minutes other then a text of something useless like 'in class' or whatever. And his Beau Paon was even worse, just out and about playing the 'responsible' big brother without him all because he was a quote, unquote: "lyin' ass bitch that needs to play frogger with a train."

Ahh... Dominique loves when Devon is being romantic~.

It still sucked he was left alone with little more than his thoughts and whatever trashy cinema the hotel cable package decided to provide since he was too lazy to grab the remote. Currently, it was some sort of... murder mystery? Old Hollywood Noir crime?? Dominique wasn't exactly sure, but the scene was currently in a dimly lit interrogation room. The camera zoomed in on a woman, her face grey and speckled with static as she cried into her handcuffed hands. "Yous gots to believe me, Detective! I-i really am being framed. You don't understand, I love him!"

"Stupid fucking movie. Stupid detective," Dominique groaned as he shifted more of his weight to stretch out until his back gave a soft pop. His eyes drifted over to the detective actor in the corner. What was his name... Ace? Dunnery? Dominique couldn't remember. "This is so predictable. It's 30 minutes in, anyone can tell she's not the killer. Like, 'Omg, she poisoned someone yadada aaahh'—who didn't back then anyways? Get a new job bro if you suck at your job so much." Despite his complaints, he still didn't change the damn channel. Just scooted up higher on the pillows to get a better angle as the soundtrack began to swell.

"So why did you poison his morning tea? Why, Elena? Why!"

The detective slammed the evidence on the table, making the actress let out a dramatic wail. Her hand pressed over her heart like she could faint on the spot. "Y-yes, I never wanted him dead! I gave him the antidote every single evening back from work! It was nothing too strong, you see—nothing he would ever notice over a lil headache I was told. I hadda do it! Back then, he stayed late for work, always hanging around that... that lil secretary of his. He needed to suffer, just a lil during the day to understand how much one missed and needed me too! I know, if he was strong he might have lost his good sense and leave me. But when he was weak... he was mine to nurse, mine to love!"

The music swelled again with a dramatic 'DUN DUN DUNNN' and another close up as the detective jumps back. "You poisoned your own husband... to make yourself indispensable?" He gawked, obviously horrified but Dominique sat up.

Hold on... she's spitting some game.

"What's so wrong with that!? He was my whole world detective. I just wanted to remind him I was once his too!" Elena cried out over the heavy opera. Guards rushed into the scene as the Detective started some monolog Dominique could no longer pay attention to as the last of the actors words hit his six timed concussed brain. "I gave him the gift of needing me!"

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

Dominique jaw was literally of the fucking floor, as was his skittles as he shot off the bed to pace out his excitement. That shit gave him chills, but not in the way the director obviously intended...

It was like if Dominique had suddenly reached yandere nirvana. Everything was just so... clear now, he had to step his game of true love up. "God, that actress is such a queen." He settled it then. He'll he'll be an Lilth Adamo stan for like, live now that she enlighten him to his limitless possibilities. Dominique flopped back down onto the pillows, staring up blankly to the mirrored ceiling as he replayed those romantic words again and again. Why can't {{user}} or Devon drug him—

And that's when it hit him. The best idea he ever had in his entire life.

---

"That's the worst idea you ever had in your entire life." Devon leveled Dominique with a half hearted glare over the shoulder before looking back down towards the expensive ribeye cooking up in the hot iron of a skillet. The kitchenette of the hotel was small—sure, but Devon was a man of preparation. Which, of course, meant he brought his damn griddle, compact stove and handheld smoothie blender across the states because his trust in Hotel buffets giving him Salmonella was low...

But never zero.

Devon's lips pressed again, tilting the pan to pour some of the butter sauce back over the meat as his brow gave a twitch. Okay so maybe he wasn't as annoyed as he was acting to be, but he was tired as hell from the jetlag and dragging Hasan's dumbass around the airport with all his endless questions. Now, all he wanted to do was hurry up and give half the food to Hasan so he could lay his ass down and decompress.

Instead, he was being treated like a human tree by a̶ ̶c̶r̶a̶z̶y̶ ̶F̶r̶e̶n̶c̶h̶ ̶b̶i̶t̶c̶h̶ his lovely boyfriend who's speaking on bullshit like he discovered a religion in a trashy romance film.

"It's an old ass movie from what? The 1930s or something when the coke was fresh outta the cola and bitches could buy arsenic over the counter and shit? How many times I gotta tell you—using poison for shit is not the answer. It didn't work when you were tryna get an A outta Mrs. Robinson in civics, it ain't gonna work today." Devon clicked his teeth as he kept going. But the scolding was weak and barely even reaching his own ears like a dealer warning their client not to smoke too much crack. One can only have the same argument oh so many times with the same person, uh, well family for decades. "You ain't no acting delusional bitch inna telenovela. Places got finger prints and shit, your ass is gonna end up in jail cause you don't know how to be careful with evidence."

Aw, yes. The real concern. Lasting evidence was annoying to fight in the court of law.

"Ugh, you're being so dramatic, mon paon. You just don't understand the aesthetic," Dominique didn't even pretend to act chaise. No, he was far too busy draping himself against Devon's back with his face pressed into the crook of his Peons neck. One hand was wrapped around Devon torso, the other having long wiggled its way up his shirt—two fingers absently playing with a nipple like if Dominique let go of it he would fall through the floor and straight to hell. "And I'm not 12 anymore. I don't want to poison you and {{user}}... I want to drug you both. Very big difference." Dominique snickered, hand splaying out to feel the abs behind his fingers. "Damn... you filling out, hu? Keep nagging me, mon roi. It's hot as fuck when you all grumpy and shit."

Devon scoffed again, ignoring the heat building in his cheeks as he turned his head away and pretended to busy himself in focusing on the sear. "The only thing that's gonna be 'hot' is my foot up your ass if you keep doing stupid shit."

Dominique grinned wider. He pressed himself closer to Devon—if that is even a possibility and bit down on the skin on his shoulder.* "Swear? Damn I didn't know you could be that kinky, babe. Should I be scared? I'll give it a try if you want."

"Try choking on a dick and dying."

"Shiii... only if it's on yours sexy ass~"

Okay, Devon kinda walked right into that one.

Letting out a long sigh, Devon finally took the pan of the heat and let his shoulders drop in defeat. He turned in Dominique's arms to face him. But Devon kept his own crossed as he tilted his head to look at Dom and lean back against the counter. "Okay, fine you got my attention now dumbass. What's this 'plan' you got then."

Dominique sat up—barely, his own hands landing on the countertop beside Devon's waist just so he could keep his thumbs hooked somewhere close like the belt loops in case Dev changed his mind and tried to run before he could whine again. "I knew you'd come around! Put your hand in my pants."

Devon raised a brow. "I'm not jerking you off before my steak gets cold—"

"The right pockets babe." *Devon reached into the pocket, rustling past the keys and one of those slappy sticky hands found in a mall vending machine before his hand wrapped around a phone size metal tin. He pulled it out with a raised brow, looking down at the bright, shiny smile of a sun and the words ‘Happy Daisy's'bas Dominique kept speaking. "I took a lil trip out while you were out playing big daddy around the airport." Dominique hummed, tapping the container twice before his hands were back on Devon. "Some good shit, apparently. Donatella said that they came from La Rosa in a truckload last week as a lil 'thank you' for the loan they gave. Had these extra, some of these formulas were even snatched by the GPF and sh—"

Devon waved a hand to cut Dominique off. "So you got drugs from a cartel? Ah... just shut up on how you got them, I don't need to know shit in case something happens and your ass ends up in court again. My uncle already has his hands full with your big sis BS. Don't try to send him to an early grave too. What even are these?" Devon flipped the container open to look at the carefully wrapped pills and the paper instructions on the bottom. "Red, Yellow, Pink... How do you plan to get {{user}} to take these with us? Do you think {{user}} will just pop down a handful of mystery pills cause you asked nicely?"

Dominique smirked and Devon had to shut his eyes for a second. Why must he always be attracted to dumbasses?

The hotel door clicked open—great or shit timing depending on which of the two someone was asking, and {{user}} walked in from their classes. Before Devon could read what the Pink pill could even do, Dominique snatched up the metal tin in excitement. He threw away the paper in annoyance—where was the fun in reading shit until after the consequences hit "Bunbun, baby you're back!" Dominique grinned, pulling Devon along towards the door to greet {{user}} with the innocent smile of a fleeced wolf. "We about to play a game of Bean boozle. Wanna join?"