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Unforgettable; for PassionFlower
Topic Started: Feb 28 2010, 04:27 PM (528 Views)
Gray
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
[ *  *  *  * ]
His first impression of the countryside he'd banished himself to was quaint, quiet, and likely didn't have a bar, pub, or tavern for miles. Which meant that the transplanted Irishman would have to do his drinking at home.

The thought brought a frown to Adrian MacKinnon's high, broad forehead and a wrinkle to his slightly too-long nose. His mouth - which was, some said, far too sensual to belong on such a rugged face - turned down slightly at the corners as he hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder and picked up a suitcase with each hand.

He turned minutely to watch the Greyhound pull away from the curb, and coughed loudly at the plume of noxious smoke that arose from it's tailpipe to envelope the redhead.

One sardonic ginger colored eyebrow rose in consternation as he glanced down at himself and noted the fine film of dust that coated his tailored slacks and short-sleeved button-down silver shirt.

"Blast," he muttered quietly to himself, his thick brogue evident even in the single syllable. His voice was deep and husky, and somehow suited his large 6'6" frame.

Casting around for someplace to clean up, he spotted a sign for a Motel 6 just down the road and decided - spur of the moment - that he'd rent a room for an hour or so to shower the dust of the road (and the bus) off himself before he went to the local college for his interview.

When he stepped off the porch of the bus depot and into the full sunlight, oddly mismatched eyes squinted against the harsh glare, and, after setting one suitcase down, a pair of dark sunglasses was retrieved from his duffel bag and slid up over his nose to cover his one hazel brown eye and the other startlingly green one. That done, he swept a broad, long fingered hand through ginger colored waves and pushed his hair back off his forehead, only to have it flop right back in place when he bent down to retrieve his suitcase.

Knowing that it wouldn't do him any good to push it back again, Adrian merely shook his shaggy head and stepped out onto the sidewalk to head off for the Motel 6. Long, well muscled legs ate up the ground quickly, and his hard muscled body easily carried the weight of his baggage the 5 or 6 blocks it took him to walk to his destination.

The clerk was friendly and accommodating, if overly-curious about a newcomer to the small town of Annandale, Virginia. Adrian easily deflected the questions that were thrown at him in rapid succession as he paid for a two hour stay with his credit card.

Once in his rented room, he piled his suitcases and duffel bag on the bed, stripped out of his dusty clothes, and climbed into the shower. He turned the hot water on, and had to muffle a shout behind one large hand as frigidly cold water came out of the taps instead of the heat he'd been expecting. It only took a second for the hot water to kick in, and he stepped beneath the spray with a quiet sigh as tense muscles in his broad shoulders began to relax and steam billowed around him to fill the tiny bathroom.

Adrian hurried through his shower, then, when he'd finished, he toweled off and stepped naked into the bedroom to paw through his suitcases. He wanted to see if he could find another outfit that would be acceptable to wear for his interview. He'd packed everything he owned and brought it with him from Ireland, so he knew that he had to have something in his bags that would suit. The question was, were they relatively free of wrinkles and, more importantly, clean?

He found a pair of tailored jeans - yes, tailored jeans - and a sage green short-sleeved button-down shirt that he thought might work well, and, after sliding on a pair of black boxer briefs, proceeded to get dressed.

The jeans were straight-legged, and hugged his muscled thighs appealingly, then fell away slightly at the knee. They were long enough to cover the tops of his shoes, but not so long that he would tread on the hems. His shirt was soft and pliable, and stretched across his broad chest easily enough, though the sleeves seemed almost too tight for his biceps, and the collar gaped open slightly to reveal a bit of the fur that covered his chest.

Adrian didn't bother to brush his hair, as he knew that it would do no good, and settled instead for simply finger-combing the mass of waves until it waved back from his forehead and fell in unruly, if charming, disarray around his face.

After applying his antiperspirant and woodsy-scented cologne, he deemed himself sufficiently ready.

After calling himself a cab from the privacy of his room, he fairly ran through the front foyer and out the door in an attempt to ward off any more questions from the attendant. Fortunately, the cab driver seemed content enough with a curious look in his rear view mirror, and they were quickly pulling away from the curb and heading toward the local community college.

Adrian's interview went fairly quickly; more quickly than he'd expected, given that he was an unknown here, but the Dean told him that he'd called Wallace High in Ireland and had been given such a glowing review of the Irishman's abilities and work-ethic, he'd decided almost immediately to hire him. The interview itself was merely a technicality, and, once satisfied that Adrian would live up to his expectations, the Dean had shook his hand, welcomed him to the team, and offered to give him a tour of the campus.

Slightly dazed, the redhead agreed, and found himself being shown his new office, and the gym where he would teach. Then he was taken outside and shown the track, which was rubberized and painted with four bright white strips to show the runner's lanes. There was an area for long jump, hurdles, and sprinters, and Adrian found that he was once again excited to start work.

"I understand that you've already purchased a house, so you won't need faculty housing. Is that correct?" the Dean asked politely as he ushered the Irishman back into his own office.

"Aye, an' it's true enough," Adrian drawled. "I rented a room a' th' Motel 6, but tha' was jes' so I could clean up a bit. Me things are bein' shipped o'er from Ireland. Should be arrivin' in another day er tew."

"Ah, yes," the Dean nodded as he sat down behind his desk and gestured for Adrian to do the same. "Do you need a place to stay until your furnishings arrive? I can offer you one of the faculty apartments for a week or so until you can unpack and get settled."

But Adrian was already shaking his head in the negative. "Nay, thank ye kindly fer th' offer, though. I brought me sleepin' bag, an' I'm used tae sleepin' in much harsher conditions. It's fine I'll be till me things come."

"Fair enough." Standing, the Dean - who only came up to the middle of Adrian's chest and had a thinning pate of mouse brown hair that flopped into intelligent blue eyes - offered his hand for the larger man to shake. "Then I shall show you out, and wish you a pleasant summer. The term starts in six weeks, but you're welcome to come in and start organizing your office in four."

"Thanks agin, Dean Richardson. I appreciate it."

"Marcus, Adrian. My name is Marcus. Only the students call me Dean Richardson."

Grinning, Adrian nodded. "Marcus then. I'll see ye in four weeks."

With another friendly smile and a small wave, the redhead exited the Dean's office and made his way out of the school building. His interview had been at three o'clock, and though it had only lasted about 30 minutes, the tour had taken much longer than that. He'd been introduced to every faculty member they'd passed, and feeling slightly overwhelmed, he decided to indulge himself. He'd have to pay extra at the motel for not leaving after the two hours he'd paid for, but he decided that it was worth it. He needed to relax and unwind, and it was about 7 o'clock now.

Using the pay phone at the entrance to the school, he called a cab for himself, and, when it pulled up to the curb and he'd slid inside, he asked to be taken to the nearest gay bar.

The driver only raised an eyebrow at him, but, after receiving a stony glare, said, "That's about an hour away. That all right?"

Adrian nodded and settled back into the seat, ready for a bit of fun after his trip and the stress of his interview.


((I'm crap with accents, but I tried. If it's not working for you, just tell me and I'll drop it and let you imagine his accent. ^_^))
Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Brett Wallace

The Hanger was quite the haven for many men, young and not so young, of Annandale and the surrounding smaller towns. A place where men who enjoyed the company of other men could go to find friends, good times, companionship and maybe something more if they played their cards right.

Brett had been to The Hanger as young as 16 years old. He'd snuck out a few nights in his youth, with that burning curiosity to find out why it was his eyes seemed to wander in the gym locker room and when getting a bear hug from his fellow Football players had left him breathless and tingling in ways that was not normal for sheer 'friendship'.

But he was hardly 16 anymore. And thankfully at the age of 23 he had no more need to carry a fake ID. Over his years of trying various liquors, he'd grown quite attached to the delicious burn of whiskey. It was his typical poison he'd pick night after night when visiting the Hanger.

The lean fellow was perched up on a barstool, with his elbows resting on the bar behind him. He had a cup of coke and whiskey in his hand, which he sipped from off and on as his eyes roved over the various men out that night. It was pretty loud, with all sorts of high beat remixes reverberating through the very structure of the bar. It was too bad that Brett had never much gotten the hang of dancing. He always felt strangely awkward the few times he had. Though he had to wonder if it was because the men in question he'd been dancing with just honestly had not been good for him.

No matter. Those times were in the past. And it wasn't like you -had- to dance at a gay bar. It was a perfectly comfortable place to flirt the pants off someone and drink yourself silly. None the less he couldn't help himself from tapping his foot to the excessive beat and even bobbing his head a bit to the groove. It earned him a few bemused looks from guys down the bar. He simply spared them a grin in response and a tip of his head in acknowledgment.

It seemed like a bit of a slow night. Then again it was a week day. Brett raked a hand back through his shaggy dark hair, as he cleared his throat, and after finishing off a few more gulps of his drink, turned his eyes to some of the men who were catching his eye. A nother of his infamous grins spread his lips across his face, and his hazel eyes lit up with renewed energy.

Before long, Brett had saddled himself up near two appealing young men. Younger than himself if he was any judge of age. A smirk teased the corners of his lips as one of the young men, whom he learned was named Will, began to feel along one of his bare arms and on up his biceps. Maybe not as hulking as some guys, but Brett would be lying if he didn't say he had a nice physique. All his years of sports and being on teams was quite the pay off in that department. He flexed his arm a bit, causing the other guys to laugh and swoon in awe.

Needless to say, Brett enjoyed wearing tank tops out on his nightly escapades for moments like this. And he was wearing one that night. A dark purple color, that stretched nicely over his fit frame, showed off his strong arms and a hint of his collar bone. On down he had on a pair of his old comfy black jeans. They held tight around his hips, but loosened up the further down they went. The ends were ragged, from years spent walking around on the old pair's hems. And of course his outfit wouldn't be complete without some black boots. He had a silver necklace around his neck, with a small turquoise pendant hanging in the indent at the base of his throat.

Seems things had been going well with Will and his buddy Joey. That was until Will grabbed Brett by the wrist and yanked him out toward the dance floor. "Holy shit!" Brett gaped as he almost spilled his drink and just barely managed to set it on the bar before he was dragged off. A scowl etched over his features as he saw where Will was taking him. Great... To dance.

He put on a faint smile to hide his uneasiness. He just had to move to the beat, and he'd be fine right? Why was that so hard for his brain and body to wrap around?

None the less he tried his best. He kept his focus on the other guy in front of him, watching his eyes and the rolling of his hips. Brett looked a tad bit on the stiff side. He felt like the only gay man alive who couldn't fucking dance. And it showed. Perhaps all he really needed was a confidence boost. Maybe.

(( I don't mind the attempt at an accent. It brings me amusement x3 . Where did you pick out Annandale by the way? That's like... maybe an hour or two from my home xD lol))
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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Gray
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
[ *  *  *  * ]
As the cab pulled up to the curb in front of the bar, Adrian stared out the window at the brightly lit neon sign above the establishment's front door.

"The Hangar, huh?" he asked quietly, turning his oddly colored gaze onto the cab driver. "Really?"

The man behind the wheel nodded his head slightly, then turned to look over his shoulder at Adrian. "I hear it's the place to be for.... people who are looking for that sort of thing."

The Irishman could hear the censure in the man's voice, and could feel the weight of his gaze resting on him, but the redhead only stared back silently until the driver dropped his gaze and turned around once again. "You going in or not?" he asked mulishly, daring to raise his gaze to meet Adrian's in the rearview mirror.

Smirking at that, he only inclined his shaggy head once and pulled out his wallet to pay the insolent man. Once he had, he climbed out of the car and stood on the curb, watching the cab drive away. One red eyebrow hiked up on his forehead as he was flipped the bird by the rude driver when he pulled away, tired squealing against the pavement.

Suddenly glad that he'd only given the man a meager tip for his hasty and unfair judgment, Adrian turned and pulled open the door to the bar.

He was instantly blasted by a wave of sound, and blinked quickly in shock as he stepped inside. The place was nice enough, he supposed, though he deliberately avoided the gyrating mass of bodies on the dance floor and headed straight for the bar instead.

He settled his bulk on an empty bar stool and, as he waited for the bartender to come get his order, let his gaze travel over the patrons who were also seated at the bar. His eyes met those of several other men, and he smiled and inclined his head slightly when offered a wink or smile first. Still, despite the obvious invitations in the few gazes that lingered on him, Adrian stayed in his seat and ordered his whiskey straight up. He downed the first glass in three large swallows and immediately ordered another one, feeling the tension in his shoulders begin to melt away as the heat pooled in his belly and began to warm his limbs from the inside out. He took his time on his second glass, and gave up the bar stool in favor of a table closer to the dance floor where could watch the action with an easier view.

Glass in hand, he made a beeline for a table on the very edge of the dance floor and, after pulling out his chair, made himself comfortable.

Sipping at his drink, he let his eyes wander over the dancing bodies, his foot tapping to the insistent beat and his fingers also keeping time on the tabletop. The weirdly flashing light brought out the many freckles that covered his face and arms, though he was thankfully unaware of that fact.

It wasn't long before his gaze rested on a young man who appeared acutely uncomfortable, though he seemed to be trying for the sake of his dance partner. Adrian watched the subtle shifting of his hips, and the play of muscle beneath his skin as he moved to the beat.

Really, the boy wasn't that bad, though he couldn't help but wonder why he was on the dance floor if he was so uncomfortable with it.

The redhead continued to watch, intrigued, until he'd managed to catch the youth's eye. Then he offered an encouraging smile and a friendly wink, and let his appreciative gaze rest with growing intensity on the younger man to let him know silently that he was doing well.

After several minutes of watching the painfully stiff way the youth moved, Adrian finally stood and made his way onto the dance floor. He shifted, swayed, and side-stepped until he could nudge himself up behind the dark-haired youth he'd been watching.

Bending low and catching the eye of the boy's dance partner, he grinned and murmured directly into the youth's ear.

"Loosen up a bit, lad. Ye're dwin jus' fine." Placing his hands on the smaller man's trim hips, Adrian guided them into a loose but easy sway. "Like tha'. There ye go, noow...."
Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Brett continued to sway back and forth, catching the pumping beat of the club and house style music that radiated through the speakers and continued to vibrate the dance floor and the very walls around them. Brett lingered near Will, as his smile loosened up a little. But just from the look of the younger man in front of him, he could tell he was quite the accomplished little dancer. Sheez... his hips did things he didn't even think were humanly possible. Will gave him a wink, which caused Brett to smirk a bit.

The brunet went about moving his shoulders a bit to the music radiating through his system. His eyes began to wander a bit, unable to help but glance at the other guys around. Some were better lookers than others, that was for sure. Though before long, he swore he felt someone's eyes boring into his skull. His head turned a bit, and he blinked twice as he realized a redhead at a nearby table was eying him. But he didn't get to hold the contact long, for Will's hands found his jaw and directed his face back at him. Brett gave a sheepish look. Wasn't like they were dating, his eyes could wander all they wanted.

The music continued to pound. But Brett quirked a brow as his dance partner seemed to be looking at something behind him. It was then he felt a pair of hands gently take hold of his hips. He couldn't help but be a bit startled. Sure he'd been randomly grabbed and groped before, but it still caught him off guard when it happened. He tipped his head a bit, eyes catching a hint of the redhead from earlier, poised right behind him. Well shit, he was taller than he'd looked when he was sitting. Towering him by a good few inches.

He caught the scent of whiskey on his breath. A smile curled his lips at the scent. Good taste, in his opinion. The woody scent of cologne joined the mix, and Brett couldn't help the little shudder at the intoxicating aroma. Very masculine. And something he very much liked to catch a whiff of.

His hips did their slow sway in reaction to the guiding of the redhead's hands. Curious hands slid over the hands of the man behind him, and up over his forearms, to catch the light dusting of hairs and warm flesh. Realizing he already had a dance partner, Brett glanced forward, to find Will must have taken the hint and slipped away into the ground of meshed bodies.

Smirking at the realization, he glanced back to the Irishman. "Mm... made me lose my fish," he husked teasingly.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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Gray
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
[ *  *  *  * ]
The feel of hands gliding up over his arms pulled an amused smile onto Adrian's face, and he couldn't help the minute tightening of his fingers on the youth's hips. He felt a niggle of guilt worm it's way beneath his skin as the boy's dance partner turned and slipped away into the swaying, gyrating crush of people without a word.

Honestly though, he'd been nice enough to look at, and the redhead was positive that he'd end up with more than one offer before the night was through; so in the end, he didn't feel quite so bad.

He chuckled a bit at the lightly remonstrating tone, and gently pulled the smaller form against him, pressing his muscled frame against the boy's back so that they were plastered together; chest to back, groin to rear, and thigh to thigh.

"Aye, I s'pose I have, at tha'. Shall I apologize?" he asked curiously, bending his head slightly to brush his mouth softly against the other's ear as he spoke. The ends of his too-long red hair brushed against the other male's neck, and his long, blunt fingers gripped slender hips ever more firmly.

"I do feel guilty fer chasin' him off. I dinna mean tae, ye ken. Ye jus' seemed so.... uncomfortable. I couldna help meself, an' I though' maybe I could help. Ye jus' need tae loosen up, is all."

Turning his head to the other side, Adrian's mismatched eyes scanned the crowd briefly and paused on said former dance partner. He couldn't help but chuckle at the scowl on the youth's face as he watched the two dancing, but he immediately felt unkind for it.

"He's standin' jus' o'er there. Shall I leave ye be, then, so ye c'n hook yer.... fish... agin?"

He hoped the answer would be 'no,' but if he was honest with himself, he couldn't fault the youth in his arms if that was his answer. For all he knew, the two had really liked each other; and there he came, bumbling into the middle of it to ruin it.
Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Brett felt his eyes droop a bit, as the man behind him leaned in and his lips grazed the shell of his ear as he spoke to him. The bemused look never left his face though. Hm, that accent of his was growing on him. And he'd known this man for what? Less than five minutes. Hah.

Hazel eyes lifted, spying Will amongst the crowd after a few moments of searching. The warmth of the redhead behind him radiated into his body as his back met the taller man's chest, his ass to his hips, and of course their thighs against thighs. It drew a shuddering breath from his chest and he let it out slowly.

"... Nah. I think I'm kind of caught in yer net, MacSexy," he teased with a hint of a chuckle. He felt the tightening grip of strong hands on his hips. His tongue peeked out to lick over the petals of his own lips. And in a fit of what he could only describe as pure flirtatious lust, he arched his hips back, and caressed the tight cheeks of his jeans-clad ass along the inviting hips of the redhead. Just a smooth, teasing brush, pushing them even closer than what they had been prior.

Strange, he'd only been in the hands, literally, of this man for a few minutes, and he felt quite the more relaxed than he ever had out on the dance floor. The next song kicked in quite quickly. There was never much in terms of quiet in this bar, even on slow nights. A smile curled the corners of the brunet's mouth, and before long his arms were lifting into the air above his head, as an undulation ran through his body, from shoulders to hips. A delicious wave, in time to the hypnotic beat of the music.

Brett turned his head a bit, to get a better look at the man behind him. "... So where you from? And you got a name?" he asked, his voice just loud enough for the other man to hear him. His accent... sounded either Irish or Scottish. Fuck if he could tell the difference, but he wasn't about to make assumptions and make an ass of himself.

All the while his body continued to move, loosening up all the more in the older man's grip. A slow grin crept over his lips, as his eyes lit up, and reflected the numerous lights going on and off out on the dance floor. "You a fan of whiskey?" he added with a pleased expression.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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Gray
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
[ *  *  *  * ]
The name and the teasing undulation of hips drew a chuckle from Adrian, and he nipped lightly at the enticing column of the youth's neck. "Imp," he murmured back, his tone teasing and light even as he pressed his hips forward more firmly in answer to the jeans-clad glide against him.

The next song began quickly, without a pause between the two, and the redhead stepped into the new beat easily enough; his hands still resting lightly upon slender hips. His grin turned appreciative when he felt the body in his arms relax further, and he laughed lowly at the arm raising and undulating hips.

"There noow. Ye see? Dinna I tell ye tae loosen up?"

Sliding easily along, Adrian shifted his own hips, keeping their bodies plastered together for the most part as he deliberately worked his fingers beneath the fabric of the youth's tank top. Once he had firm, bare flesh beneath his palms, he wasn't about to relinquish his hold, and his fingertips worked random patterns into the skin of the youth's hips.

At the question of where he was from, a slight frown drew Adrian's eyebrows downward. The thought of Ireland and home brought about thoughts of his parents, and he wasn't quite ready to face that particular subject just yet. He'd done his grieving for his da, but seeing his ma waste away and finally pass on right before his eyes had brought everything back with vivid clarity. Unable to handle the grief and pain that had warred inside him, he'd closed it off and shut the door on it, refusing to let it out until he could handle it better.

Now was not that time.

Still, he gave the required answer easily enough, and if his voice was slightly deeper due to the sudden grief that swept through him, the music was probably loud enough that his companion wouldn't catch it.

"Ireland, actually. Me name's Adrian. Adrian MacKinnon. Or.... MacSexy, if ye prefer." He joked a bit, trying to dredge his own humor back up and not wanting to chase this boy away with his melancholy.

At the question of whether or not he liked whiskey, he had to laugh. His head fell back with the force of his mirth, and he laughed loudly, delighted by the question.

"Sure, an' I'm Irish, aren't I? O' course I'm a fan o' whiskey, lad." With a twinkle present in his eyes, and leaned down once again to nuzzle again the other's neck, his voice still tinged with humor. "Was tha' a hint tha' I should buy ye a drink?"
Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
The brunet listened with growing intrigue. And he got the answers he'd requested. Ireland, was the redhead's home. Made sense. He looked Irish, as he got a bit better look at him. The wild red hair and freckles over fair skin. And soon this nameless Irishman announced his name. Adrian MacKinnon. He couldn't surprise his chuckle as the other played along with his first nick name for the redhead. "Adrian MacSexy does have a nice ring to it doesn't it?" he smirked.

Ah but the light in his eyes that flickered into life at the mention of more whiskey. It had Brett giddy. He flashed that playful grin of his. "Hint or not, if you're offering to buy me booze then please do." he snickered. He slowly turned in the Irishman's grip. He felt his palms, big and strong, as they pushed up under his tank and teased along warm flesh and muscle. His hands lowered, and his own fingers soon found Adrian's hips, through the rough denim of his jeans.

" 'Sides... I do whiskey drinkin' better than dancin' anyday," he chuckled then. Playful hazel eyes took a moment to soak in the look of the redhead, now that he was fully facing him. Honestly, Brett hadn't exactly been with a man older and taller than himself before. Not because he hadn't wanted to. Just always seemed easier to hit on the young fish at the bar. But he wasn't complaining.

"My name's Brett, by the way. Brett Wallace," he mused softly, as he slipped from the redhead's grip, in a taunting and slithering manner. He glanced at him over his shoulder, spared him an inviting smile, and sauntered over to the bar. He slid onto one of the stools. The brunet stretched his arms over his head and he let out a content sound as a few popping sounds echoed from his spine. His tank had since hiked up his torso, exposing his toned abdomen and lower back. A few of the men nearby couldn't help but steal a peak.

Lowering his arms again, Brett looked back over to Adrian. "Bring on the whiskey," he grinned and wiggled his brow excitedly.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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Gray
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
[ *  *  *  * ]
Adrian allowed the boy to turn around in his arms, raising one ginger colored eyebrow in question and wondering what his companion thought of his appearance now that they'd seen each other up close and face-to-face.

"Actually, I'm rather partial tae me name," he murmured teasingly, enjoying the lighthearted banter between them.

He moved easily beneath the other's hands, following the beat of the music that still pulsed around them, finding it easy to relegate only a portion of his thoughts to the beat and the way he should shift his body so that he could concentrate more fully on this completely unexpected but totally delightful find.

"Aye, an' if it's tae be whiskey, sure enough I'll buy ye a drink."

The redhead reluctantly released the boy - Brett - and followed him over the bar, where he claimed a stool right next to his impromptu dance partner and immediately ordered them two whiskeys. In the lull before their drinks were brought, he leaned close and murmured, "It's pleased I am tae be meetin' ye, Brett."

When he drew away, his mismatched eyes twinkled brightly in the lights from the dance floor, and his full lips stretched into an inviting grin. Absently, he lifted a hand to brush his unruly hair out of his face, then reached out for his glass when their drinks were ready.

Clinking his glass lightly to Brett's, he murmured, "Sláinte," and downed half of his whiskey in a single gulp. Sighing as the heat hit his belly and spread rapidly outwards, Adrian's grin widened and he confessed, "Whiskey's always been me favorite. Never could turn away from th' heat o' th' stuff."
Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Brett watched as his redheaded companion for the moment joined him at the bar and had himself a seat on a stool right beside him. He stole a glance to the bar tender, and felt his stomach bubble with excitement over the prospect of getting more whiskey. His eyes lifted, to look over the Irishman's face, away from the bright colored lights of the dance floor. He blinked twice, as he took a moment to realize that the redhead duel colored eyes.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He might have been an older man, but he was a pretty gorgeous specimen, in Brett's opinion. He watched the strong fingers rake back through the wild ginger hair. In those moments he felt a little flutter in the pit of his stomach. Excitement it seemed...

"Same to you, Adrian," he grinned then as his own eyes lit up and their drinks were ready. He reached over, and snatched up his glass. He gladly clinked it against Adrian's and went about downing the golden burning lixir with a few choice gulps. He shuddered as he set down his glass, about half full, as that old familiar burn scorched down his throat to pool in his stomach. Brett trailed his tongue over his lips, and his eyes lifted to meet Adrian's mismatched gaze.

"Same..." he chuckled a bit. "I like being able to feel it. The warmth and the burning," he mused. "And it's damn strong too," he grinned. He brought the glass back to his lips, and slowly sipped a few more mouthfuls of the strong stuff.

"... Sláinte... I assume that's something from Ireland? What's it mean?" he asked curiously. An impish look over took his face then. "By the way, you may as well keep on talking, about anything really. That accent of yours... I like it. A lot," he admitted, boldly, honestly. He spared him a wink.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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Adrian watched as Brett picked up his glass of whiskey and downed half of it with several swallows, grinning appreciatively at the small shudder that wracked the other male's frame as he set his glass down. He'd not yet met another man who could handle his whiskey without coughing brutally after drinking the stuff, so he found his level of attraction going up from Interested to Definitely Attracted.

At the question of what his toast had meant, the Irishman laughed quietly, then leaned closer to Brett so that his mouth was next to the youth's ear.

"Tis an Irish toast, an' it means, quite lit'rally, health. I suppose it's short fer 'tae yer health,' bu' tha'd be a mouthful tae say. An' we Irish are impatient when it comes tae our drinkin', so th' fewer words we ha' tae say, th' better."

Adrian's chest rumbled as he chuckled quietly, delighted by Brett's admission that he liked the Irishman's accent.

"Aye, do ye noow? An' tha's all well an' good, innit, since I canna verra well be gettin' rid o' it."

Raising his gaze slightly to rake over the patrons still on the dance floor, the redhead's eyebrows climbed slowly towards his hair line as he spotted the same young man who'd been dancing with Brett earlier. He was still watching them closely, though his eyes were narrowed slightly on Adrian's mouth. The Irishman could only assume it was because his mouth rested so close to Brett's ear, the youth across the room might have thought that he was kissing the other's ear.

Well.... now if he was going to be accused of it, even mentally, he might as well go ahead and do it, hadn't he?

Thus, with a devil dancing on his shoulder and murmuring in his ear, Adrian gently took Brett's earlobe between his teeth and nibbled at it slightly, just enough to send electric tingles down the boy's spine if his ears were at all sensitive, as Adrian's were.

Pulling away slightly, he couldn't help the quiet chuckle that rumbled through his chest as he noticed the 'fish' start to cross the room toward them.

"I dinna think th' fish ye caught earlier likes th' idea o' bein' let go so soon. He's headed this way right noow." The words were murmured quietly against the damp skin of Brett's ear, the redheads warm breath gusting gently over the lobe and the tight line of his neck. Unable to resist, he dipped his head and pressed a series of soft, open-mouthed kisses against that delectable curve, his eyes locked on the youth in question who was heading straight for them and looked as though he wanted to pummel Adrian.
Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy.
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do it with passion or not at all
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Brett's eyes, which were a little glassy from all of the whiskey he'd already downed that night, lifted as Adrian leaned in toward him. He could definitely still take in a hefty bit more of the burning liquor. But he wouldn't be denying the faint buzz he was already feeling that tingled over his frame. His tongue trailed along his lips, as Adrian explained the meaning behind Sláinte. It caused a smile to tweak with amusement. Not just the way Adrian explained it, but by the close proximity of the Irishman.

Totally unaware of the younger man he'd been dancing with earlier, Brett was very much distracted by the redhead beside him. A sharp intake of breath sounded from Brett as he felt the taunting little nibble at his earlobe. Brett's eyes rolled closed as his breath left his lungs in a low gasp. The younger man found himself leaning in a bit closer, drawn like a magnet.

Though his eyes opened a hair, as Adrian informed him that his 'fish' from earlier was on his way over. But he couldn't get so much of a word out as the Irishman's mouth was soon pressing warm kisses along the curve of his neck. Brett couldn't help a soft chuckle that bubbled up from his chest, as he tried to keep himself together. But truly, teasing his neck and ear was already beginning to undo him.

Within a moment, Will was standing there, over them. The 'fish' knew he might have been acting a bit ridiculous. He'd just met Brett after all, not like they had any obligation to each other. But it was still insulting, having his partner just yanked out from under his nose. Brett lifted his head then, eyes falling to the young guy. He spared him a slow smile as he cleared his throat and sat up a bit. "Hey Will... was wonderin' where you went off to." he mused.

Will rolled his eyes. "I had plenty of time to wander off while you were being felt up on the dance floor," he huffed. Brett quirked a brow at the less than appealing tone that gurgled from Will's throat. He smiled again and folded his arms across his chest.

"Sorry you're feeling that way. How about you pull up a stool, grab a drink and we can be a little merry party, huh?" he offered, being amiable. Will's eyes narrowed, and before Brett knew it he had a slap to his cheek. The brunet blinked twice, in surprise, as the sting radiated through his face. His smile fell, and he lifted a hand, to rest over his face.

"At least you showed how easily you sway before things got serious," Will huffed.

~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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Adrian watched the little byplay, his eyebrows, having finally settled back down to their regular place, winging back up toward his hairline when the 'fish' accused him of groping Brett on the dance floor.

Crossing his powerful arms and leaning his large frame back against the bar slightly, mismatched eyes sent a piercing glare at the youth.

"Wasna gropin', lad. Jes' dancin'. If ye'd no' hae run off th' way ye did, ye'd hae heard me offer tae leave agin."

Having said his piece and defended himself, the Irishman was content to reach out for his whiskey and finish the glass off in one long gulp. He kept half an ear on the conversation going on beside him, and wondered vaguely if he might end up with two bodies to help warm his bed that night, instead of just the one he'd been beginning to hope for.

A moment later, he decided he didn't want the second body after all, as the younger male seemed prone to whining when he didn't get his way.

The sound of a resounding slap had Adrian's red head whipping around to find the source of the noise, and his narrowed gaze landed first on the glowing handprint that decorated the side of Brett's face, then shifted to the seething gaze of his previous dance partner.

Standing quickly, the large Irishman stepped partially in front of Brett to shield him from any further attacks, crossed his arms, and glared down at the smaller male with an unforgiving expression on his stern features.

"There wasna aneh call fer tha', noow. Unless I'm mistaken, ye didna ken Brett but fer a few minutes more'n I have. Ye've go' no claim on him, lad, so I suggest ye turn an' walk away right noow. If he decides tae come an' find ye, he'll do so."

Waiting until the 'fish' had turned and disappeared back into the crowd, Adrian finally dropped his stance and turned around to face Brett. He winced in sympathy at the still scarlet print that covered his cheek. "Oy noow, are ye all righ', lad? I dinna mean tae cause ye such trouble..."
Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy.
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passionflower
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do it with passion or not at all
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Will rolled his eyes as Adrian attempted to defend himself, in saying he'd not been groping the brunet. Sure, it might have just been dancing, but he still ended up stealing his man for the night, as far as the younger man was concerned. Maybe he was just too idealistic in thinking that a dance and a few flirting gestures would win him a guy for the night.

Brett had since lifted a hand up to cup his cheek. He felt the flesh burning from the stinging slap. And his eyes had narrowed to glare at the younger man who'd dared to lift a hand to him. Sheesh, it wasn't like they were dating or he was cheating on him. They were free to float around the bar, observe the many 'fish' for catching. No commitments had been made.

Even more ridiculous was the fact the young man had slapped him. Not punched. Slapped. He couldn't help a hint of a smirk that tweaked up his full lips. Unmanly in his opinion. And just a turn off in the end analysis. Though his thoughts were strayed as he saw the Irishman rise from his stool and step up in front of him.

He blinked twice as his chest tightened and a little tingle of excitement pooled in his stomach. Okay, so even if he was a guy, the protective demonstration by Adrian had his heart fluttering. But he wouldn't be admitting it any time soon. Sounded way too much like something a school girl would feel. And a school girl, he was not.

Despite, a smile tweaked his lips at the display. His eyes peeked around Adrian's form, to catch the look on Will's face. Needless to say, the younger man was a bit startled and looked down right intimidated. After all, Adrian was even taller than Brett, thus he was pretty much down right towering over little Will. The young fish's brows furrowed as he took a step back.

"Fine. I'll go. Have fun till another man snatches him from you. Then you'll know how I feel," he spat angrily, young face scrunched up in annoyance. He then turned on his heel, and stalked off in a huff.

Brett had smoothed his hand from his cheek, down to his mouth, rubbing a bit. His eyes flicked up to meet Adrian's as the redhead turned back to him. His mouth upturned a bit then. His cheek was still pretty red, though it was slowly fading. "I'll be alright." he mused softly. He leaned forward then, pushing out his wounded cheek.

"Mind kissing it to make it feel better?" he grinned as his eyes flickered playfully toward the Irishman. Seems the sourness of the prior moments had already begun to dissipate. And if anything, it just gave the brunet more ammo to flirt with. He had a playful smile on his lips.
~*yes, as you wanted, I gave everything to you*~
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Adrian's eyes raked worriedly over Brett's face, hoping that the slap to both face and ego wouldn't mark the end of their evening together.

Startled when the injured cheek was presented to him and the youth asked him to kiss him, the Irishman could only stare for a moment before his brain kicked in and made sense of the situation for him.

With a throaty purr, he rumbled, "I'd be happeh tae."

Slowly, he leaned forward, one large paw coming up to rest on Brett's other cheek as his lips pursed and pressed gently against the warm skin that still glowed faintly from the slap. He lingered there for a moment before pulling away slightly and slipping his lips over smooth skin to nibble lightly at the brunette's ear.

"I'll do ye one better, lad," he husked quickly into the shell of Brett's ear, his warm breath stirring the hairs just behind that delicate appendage.

With his warning given, the Irishman's grip became a bit more firm, and he turned the other male's face toward him, already anticipating the taste of whiskey laden tongue against his own. With only a quick breath between them, Adrian tipped Brett's face up to meet his own pressed his mouth lightly to the youth's, hoping somewhere in the back of his mind that Will was watching and burning up with jealousy. What better repayment for the slap he'd dealt, after all, than to see the very man who'd stolen his 'catch' for the night getting even more comfortable with said 'catch?"

Large thumbs stroked gently over prominent cheekbones, and Adrian took his time with Brett's mouth, learning the shape and contour of the lips beneath his own before he drew away slightly and nibbled lightly at the boy's lush lower lip.
Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy.
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