Kersen.

[trustearned]

The music was loud, discouraging any sort of prolonged conversation, which was just the way Michael preferred his gay bars. The lights were dim, the small dance floor full, and men were regularly coming in and out of the darker backroom. He was settled at the counter, nursing a scotch, and watching the crowd. Part of him was on his guard, as it always was; you never knew. But mostly, he was just looking for someone who would do the trick tonight.

The tattoos caught his eye when the younger man leaned against the counter to ask the bartender, presumably, for a drink. His arms were bare, ink clear on tanned skin. Or not tanned but naturally darker, he reassessed when he looked up at the face. The features were narrow, angular, and clearly exotic (rendered even more so by the kohl around his eyes), although Michael couldn't have pinpointed the man's origin. The face was less interesting than the tattoos, however, and he dropped his gaze back to them, trying to make out their design from a distance.

Comments

[kersen]

Kersen made a little sound that was nearly a whimper. He wrapped his fingers around Michael's cock and stroked it lightly. "Fuck yes."

Though when Michael spoke into his ear, it put his neck right thee, and Kersen inhaled his scent and felt the hunger grab hold of him like a vice. He closed his eyes, trying to push it down. Control. Control.

[trustearned]

The sound Michael made was nothing like a whimper, and closer to a growl, if no more audible over the thumping basses. What he did hear was Kersen's answer, but he had to make sure, if only because enthusiasm to the here and now would be even more of a turn-on than enthusiasm in general.

"Let me fuck you?" he asked, his lips inches away from Kersen's ear, and his voice strained from the very wonderful stroke of Kersen's fingers, even with the awkwardness of working from within his jeans. Definitely no blushing virgin, and that was the way Michael preferred it, too.

[kersen]

"Yes please," Kersen gasped out immediately, his voice dripping with desire. "I want you. I - "

Need coursed through him. And it wasn't just to be fucked, as much as his body was screaming for that. But with Michael's pulse point just an inch from his lips, he suddenly could barely focus on anything else in the world.

His fangs clicked out.

Though by some small mercy, instead of what he wanted to happen next, he managed to yank himself away. "Oh god," he said, fangs retracting back into his mouth. "I - I can't. I am so sorry. Fuck."

[trustearned]

The words were lost to the music, when Kersen pulled away, but the look on his face was not lost to Michael's eye. The panic was clear, and Michael frowned, unprepared for such a reaction after such promising moments. One of his hands was on the wall, and he watched the other man in quiet, undisguised confusion.

[kersen]

Hunger, guilt, and regret rolled over Kersen. "It's not you," he said, trying to speak louder. "I am so sorry. I just... I can't. I have to go." The expression on his face was a clear mixture of regret and lust as he looked at Michael, and before he could react, Kersen spun and moved away from him, towards the crowd of people. He could feel the blood pumping in everyone there, and he needed to get out before he did something stupid.

[trustearned]

Michael frowned after the departing man, unsure what had just happened. But he hated complications, when it came to this, so perhaps it was for the best things had stopped when they did, whatever the matter actually was. He closed up his jeans, wincing slightly on account of his erection, on his way out of the backroom, back towards the bar. He might yet find someone else, for tonight.