After Warren

He was aching when he walked into the bar. He wasn't used to behaving so well. Behaving at all. He saw something pretty, he wanted, he seduced, he took. It's the way it went. Stupid Ladies and their stupid promises. He'd behaved. He'd kept his hands to himself, mostly, and what touching there'd been had not been inappropriate.

The boy needed to get laid, but the last thing he needed was for it to be by someone he didn't want and only gave into because of magic or confusion or feeling vulnerable.

"Tequila. Straight." He grabbed a handful of limes, feeling the juice sting the little cuts on his fingers where he'd pressed too hard against the guitar strings. Better the narrow coil of the string than soft flesh, heated and stretched over taut muscles that gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat before they'd even...

He slammed the shot, then gestured for another. Then a third. Right. That took the edge off and he was at least breathing normally and scanning the room with a predator's gaze when cool fingers curled around his.

"You look flushed." Cool voice as well, like clean water over stones, with a trace of music running through it.

One of them? Here? He looked over sharply and met smiling blue eyes.

"One might even say overheated." Amusement in that voice now, though Devin heard mocking and snarled, snatching his hand back.

"What do you want?"

Fergus shrugged and motioned the bartender to set him up a shot as well.

( Read more... )