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

[trustearned]

"And what are you likely to do," Michael inquired, with another hint of a smile, "when you're," his fingertips tapped softly on the ink, "out of control?"

Kersen wasn't his usual type, but types were made to be ignored, now and then. And he was stunning, no doubt there.

[kersen]

And yet another question that he definitely couldn't answer. It was also a reminder of why this kind of thing was dangerous. But Kersen was a little drunk and a little intrigued and before he could stop himself, the words out of his mouth were, "Do you want to find out?"

[trustearned]

"I meant the question," Michael confirmed, and leaned back to down the rest of his scotch, then stand.

[kersen]

Kersen liked that Michael was drinking scotch, too. He could smell it on him. Along with his blood.

He downed the rest of his as well and then slid off his stool.

He didn't say anything, just gave Michael a look. A why don't we go somewhere more private look. An eyefucking kind of look.

This was such a bad idea.

[trustearned]

Michael wasn't, as a rule, a big talker. People wasted breath and words too much in everyday life. When he could stay silent, he would stay silent, and it was no different in such circumstances.

He met Kersen's gaze, and nodded towards the backroom, a clear invitation to follow before he started weaving through the crowd to get there.

[kersen]

Kersen actually nearly bolted. It was a bad idea, pulling a random human. Especially when he was a little drunk. But.

Control. Control.

He followed behind Michael in the crowd until they were in the darkness. They weren't alone int he room, though shapes were nondescript against the walls. This was not Kersen's typical scene. But suddenly he found himself kind of aroused by it.

[trustearned]

It was definitely Michael's typical scene. It was not his first time in the backroom, and his eyes quickly accustomed to the half-light. His eyes roamed over the other men without pausing to look at any of them; he was not here for them. All he was looking for was a quiet corner where they might be undisturbed.

There, at the back of the room. He led the way over, then turned back to Kersen and stepped into his space to kiss him, sliding a hand over his jaw as his other one found the man's hip. There was no hesitation in the kiss, or in the way he pulled Kersen close. They both knew why they were here, so there was no reason for pretense at anything else, the main reason why Michael preferred such encounters to any others.

[kersen]

Kersen let out a little gasp into the kiss, and immediately sank into it, pressing himself against Michael's body and putting a hand on his hip to brace himself. He wanted. He wanted, a lot.

[trustearned]

Good. If this didn't feel so good most of the time (sometimes, you found someone it simply didn't work with), Michael would have long stopped doing it. But this heated rush of sensations always had him coming back. He slid his hand under Kersen's shirt to explore that stunning chest himself, finding his skin slightly chilly to the touch, or was he running a little hot? Either way, Michael meant to heat up his flesh in very little time. For now, he used the hand now in the middle of Kersen's torso to push him back, gently but firmly, against the wall behind him, briefly breaking the kiss as they moved.

And then, then he could press himself fully against the other man, even as he went back to exploring his mouth. It wasn't a tender kiss by any stretch of the imagination, but one full of desire and lust.

[kersen]

Kersen moaned softly into the rough kiss and let himself be pushed against the wall. He actually found himself really happy to be... handled, like that. He was glad that Michael was taking control. It would be easier this way. Even though he could already feel the hunger rising up inside him.

[trustearned]

Control. The word, the concept, was key to Michael as well, for all that it wasn't inked on his body. He was no more likely to relinquish control during sex than at any other time, and it showed in the way he kissed Kersen, in the hand in his hair, not gripping but holding, in the slide of his other hand to go and cup him through leathers that had to be feeling tighter by the second, if this was doing as much for Kersen as it was for Michael.

[kersen]

Kersen got the impression that Michael wasn't much of a conversationalist, so he let his body do the talking. He rolled his hips and groaned, letting Michael feel the outline of his erection in his tight trousers. He surrendered to the kiss, too, and was almost surprised by how much he enjoyed this. Maybe it had been too long. At least, since something like this. He slid both hands underneath Michael's shirt, making an appreciative sound.

[trustearned]

There was no hiding how much of an effect this was having on Michael, either, not with how closely he was pressed against the other man. His fingers stroked along the length of him as much as he could through the leather, before he moved his hand away to slide a leg in between Kersen's and slide both hands down between his body and the wall, until they found his arse. Micheletto rarely fucked men in backrooms, usually preferring other options, but it happened, once in a while, and he wanted to, right now, with Kersen - if he was up for it, so to speak.

[kersen]

Kersen could feel Michael's hardness as well, and between that the and smell of his blood, the feel of his pulse, it sent both lust and hunger flaring. When Michael grabbed his ass, Kersen slid both hands up into his hair and kissed him, taking some control of it this time - a fierce, hungry kiss from someone who had four hundred years of kissing experience. And in the middle of it, he slid one hand down and into the waistband of Michael's trousers.

[trustearned]

Far from disapproving of the kiss, Michael met fierceness for fierceness and was harder for it, even before slightly cool fingers slid inside his boxers. The low, gruff sound of approval was lost to the music of the club, but he kept pouring his appreciation into the kiss, fingers digging into Kersen's ass in a way that might have been painful if it wasn't for the leather in the way. His hips shifted forward, and he broke the kiss at last, his breathing laboured for the best of reasons. He leaned in close, so he could speak in Kersen's ear and have a chance at being heard over the music without having to shout, just push his voice. The question was simple, and to the point. "Do you bottom?"

And, more to the point, what about right here, right now, with Michael.

[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.