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The miqo’te across the Quicksand had been eyeing Bram all night and the longer it went on, the more he wasn’t certain what—if anything—he wanted to do about it. He kept his own eyes trained stubbornly on the dregs of ale at the bottom of his empty glass and tried to resist the urge to take another peek. He wasn’t used to this; people in the East were rarely so forward with their interest.
“There’s D’iona,” Mina said. Bram followed her gaze from where they were seated at a table over to the Southern door, where her own miqo’te companion had finally arrived. “I’ll see you later.”
Bram nodded and watched her go, taking his final excuse to avoid interacting with anyone along with her. In theory he could just go back to the Waking Sands and call it an early night. He’d only tagged along so Mina wouldn’t be alone while she waited for her friends. He slid his glass around in a slick circle against the table, then tipped the very last sip of ale into his mouth.
His eyes took the opportunity to drift back over to the spot where his admirer had been seated and he was equal parts relieved and disappointed to find him gone. Oh well. He wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes, but after his last disastrous attempt at a one-night stand, Bram wasn’t certain he cared to try it again so soon. Or ever, possibly. He really wasn’t built for it.
Mina had already settled at a different table across the room and was laughing with her friends. Yes. Leaving would be his best option. He started to stand and do just that when a voice from behind him caught his attention.
“Going somewhere?”
Bram turned in his seat and looked up, finding the self-same miqo’te draped over the edge of the railing leading to the door with practiced carelessness. Up close, Bram had free reign to take in his appearance: soft-looking dark hair, deep green eyes, and a host of freckles scattered across his nose, cheeks, and hands. Not bad company for an evening at all. If, of course, he could summon the courage.
He didn’t have time to respond before the man sighed and slipped through one of the gaps to sit on the low ledge beside him, now much more even with his height.
“Content to ignore me all night, then?” he asked. He had a wry way of speaking that made Bram feel like he was in the company of a friend rather than a stranger. Despite himself, he relaxed a little. “I’d hoped I might wear you down eventually.”
An orange flower earring dangled from one of his ears. It looked old, but well cared for. He imagined it was probably important to him.
Bram scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck and tried to tame his own awkwardness. “It isn’t that I didn’t notice, I just—” The miqo’te looked amused. Bram blushed anyway. “I’m here with my sister.”
The man nodded with a teasing sort of patience and hopped to his feet, then sauntered closer. He propped the tip of his index finger under Bram’s chin and forced him to meet his gaze. He seemed to be appraising him. Bram’s heart sped up a little.
“Right, right,” his lips curled into a smirk. “Short girl? Green eyes? Thoroughly occupied with her new friends well over there?” Bram blinked. He really had been watching. “Looks like you found your opportunity.” His voice lowered and curled warm like smoke, and he dragged the tip of his finger down across the gentle swell of Bram’s throat. “Interested? I certainly am.”
Kami preserve. Bram had never been so out of his depth or turned on in all his life. He stammered. “I uh— I mean—”
The miqo’te looked one ilm shy of laughing. Bram did all he could to avoid withering and summoned his courage. He didn’t need to be sexy and mysterious, but it wouldn’t hurt to be an onze less embarrassing about the whole thing.
He grabbed the man’s hand where it yet rested between his collarbones and stroked his thumb across the back of one freckled hand. “A little forward, aren’t you?” He only shrugged, ceding no ground. “Can I at least buy you a drink and learn your name first?”
“O’bren,” the miqo’te said easily. “But you can call me Bren.” His eyes flickered to where Bram’s fingers still held his. A crack in the façade at last. “And you?”
“Bram,” he said. “You only answered half my question.”
O’bren made a show of playfully rolling his eyes, smiling wide enough that Bram could make out the sharp points of his canines. “If it makes you feel better, I suppose.” He readjusted his hand to grab Bram’s forearm and dragged him up out of his seat to head over to the bar. With both of them at their full heights, Bram was surprised to find he was significantly taller than O’bren. The miqo’te seemed initially surprised, too; then, after a moment of consideration, more blatantly interested than ever before. He curled in and drew a circle with his finger against Bram’s chest. “But rest assured that now I’ve captured your interest, I won’t be losing it.”
Bram rested his hands on O’bren’s hips and felt something trail up the back of his thigh. Startled, he checked and found it was O’bren’s tail. It was becoming increasingly clear that if he had his way, Bram would be on his back, naked, and in the nearest bed within the next quarter bell.
“I’m sure we can arrange something that’ll keep us both happy.”
He took the short walk over to the bar as an opportunity to gather his wits. Right, then. They needed to talk some, but not for too long lest he start to bore him. One drink. Or was that too soon? Too long? He really wasn’t very good at this.
“You’re cute when you’re thinking in circles,” O’bren teased, seeing straight through him. “We can skip this part if you want. I really don’t mind.”
Bram shook his head, determined. “What are you drinking?”
The question seemed to catch O’bren off guard. He stammered for a moment, then said, “Whatever you’re having, I suppose, but—” Bram ordered two ales and gestured to the far end of the bar. “You really don’t have to pay for my drink, it’s fine.”
There was something almost charming about how determined he was to avoid being handed a drink for free. “Are you always this hard to get to know?”
“I think you’ll find it’s perfectly simple when you don’t add all these extra steps,” he sighed. Despite his protestations, he took a seat on the stool beside Bram and the bartender brought them both their drinks relatively quickly after that. O’bren stared at the glass of ale like it might bite him. Bram only watched him silently. A moment more and he reluctantly took a very small sip. “Happy?”
Bram flashed a smile, feeling a little more comfortable now that the scales had evened out. “Very.”
A brief silence stretched between them, but the longer it lasted the more O’bren seemed to prickle. Eventually he started rambling as though unleashing a flood, regaining control by ilms. “You’ll want to know where I’m from, then. What I do for a living. What brings me to a place like this. Whether or not I do this sort of thing often.”
Bram couldn’t help being a tiny bit amused. “We can talk about all that if you want, I guess. Mostly I just thought it’d be nice to know you for more than five minutes before we—” To his horror, he went a little pink. He hesitated. “You know.”
That was a mistake. O’bren scooted forward on his stool and traced two fingers along the curve of Bram’s jaw, fingertips dragging through the rough of his stubble. His flush only worsened with the way the action made his skin tingle. He dropped his hand to his knee seconds later. “Does this mean you have plans for me?” Bram grabbed his drink and took a deep draught to buy himself a moment. “Care to tell me about them?” Rather than open his mouth and make a fool of himself, Bram only offered an apologetic smile and shrug, his glass thudding softly against the wooden counter. O’bren’s hand trailed up from his knee to his thigh. “Or would you prefer to surprise me?”
“I’m not very well-versed in this,” Bram confessed, gesturing vaguely between them. “Not that I’ve never…” By the kami. Maybe he should just drown himself. “I’ve done this before, I’m just not very used to it.”
O’bren looked positively charmed, now, and leaned still closer to press his face against the side of Bram’s neck. Bram’s hand shot out instinctively to steady him, and O’bren laughed as the point of one fang grazed against his skin and sent a shiver down his spine. “I can work with that.”
Bram stole a self-conscious glance across the Quicksand, but no one was paying them any mind. O’bren pressed a couple of kisses to the side of his neck and Bram scooted closer so he wouldn’t have to stretch so far. He felt him press his forehead against his shoulder, laughing in gentle disbelief, and then he pulled back to thumb his lower lip in contemplation. Bram grabbed his wrist before he could get any more audacious ideas.
“O’bren,” he cautioned.
“I told you to call me Bren,” he reminded him.
Bram dragged his hand down to his lap and couldn’t help a small laugh. “I was wrong. You’re very forward.”
O’bren murmured softly in his ear, “And you’re very fuckable.” Bram hadn’t expected him to speak so coarsely, but he had to admit it sounded good coming from his mouth. He inhaled sharply, in a mixture of surprise and desire, and the miqo’te seemed to instantly recognize that he’d won. “This has gone on long enough, don’t you think? A drink isn’t what I hoped to be putting in my mouth.”
Fine then, Bram decided. The needs of his traitorous cock finally won out over his desire to be gentlemanly. He took enough gil out of his coinpurse to pay for both drinks and a tip, then jerked his head towards the entrance to the inn. He paid for one night while O’bren stood by and looked very pleased with himself. Once he had the key, he dangled it between them. O’bren snatched it with an almost maniacal pleasure and dragged him by the wrist down the hall, letting them both inside before shutting the door behind them.
Bram found himself pinned to the nearest wall before he could register what was happening. Within seconds O’bren’s mouth had sealed against his in a hot, demanding kiss. He ceded his space and let the miqo’te slot his thigh directly against his groin, rutting gently against him while he preened like a couerl playing with its most recent kill. He knew what he was doing: Bram had to hand it to him. Within minutes he had gone from slightly anxious to surrendering completely to his whims, letting his hands drift down his back to rest just above the slight swell of his ass while he kissed him long and deep.
“O’bren,” he breathed softly when at last they parted.
“Bren,” he insisted. He pressed his thigh a little harder against Bram’s cock, the pressure delicious and maddening at once, and Bram grunted softly in repentance.
“Bren,” he exaggerated, just to see the way his expression changed.
Their eyes met for just an instant and, perhaps satisfied with the way he’d completely unraveled him so quickly, O’bren’s eyes sparkled as he said, “I’m going to suck your cock now.”
Bram could only slump into the wall and bury his fingers in soft hair while deft hands unbuttoned his pants. He’d tried his best, but he had well and truly lost the battle.
Not that he was particularly complaining.