Roguishly Dangerous

“Coffee,” he says, confirming Tyler’s thought, “but I’m gonna break your heart. I usually drink it black. No sugar, no cream, no room. If you’re offering something fancy, though, I can make an exception.” It’s rare he’s told to stop working for once and sit down. He sees the opportunity here, and he’s going to take it. He takes a seat on the hallway bench to get his boots off, not wanting to track dirt, mud, and who knows what else into Tyler’s home and ruin what has been an otherwise pleasant afternoon for the both of them. He’s deft with the laces, large, calloused hands knowing them very well. Once he’s got those off and feels comfortable walking farther into the house, he fishes for his phone and loads a folder of pictures of Jack, his lazy bloodhound, looking like the biggest couch potato known to man.

“I’ve had him for years, since he was a puppy. He’s not really a working dog, but we’ve done some hunting training together. He goes out when I fly Freya. That’s this girl here,” he adds, offering a picture of an adult goshawk mantling over what used to be a rabbit. Key word: used to be.

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Tyler’s hands moved swiftly as his guest made himself comfortable. “I like it black too, to be perfectly honest.” He smiled, has already preheated the machine and set up the portafilter. By the time the man walked back toward him and showed him those photos of the bloodhound and the goshawk, Tyler already had two steaming mugs of coffee on the counter.

“Guess I really have to try impressing you this evening with dinner to get an official invitation to your place.” Tyler teased as he admired the ranger’s animal companions. The scene of the goshawk mantling over a bloody piece of meat didn’t faze the man for a second.

“Here.” Tyler offered a mug to the other man and invited the man toward the living room. The couch hasn’t arrived yet, but at least they could sit on a rug in front of the fireplace. “So...Are you actually from around here?” Tyler asked, found himself feeling curious over the tall man before him. There was something about this charming guy that drew Tyler’s attention, and Tyler always trusted his instinct. Something told him that there was more under this cheerful, perfect man. And Tyler was intrigued.

“Dinner, huh?” Logan’s smile widens- too perfect, too bright- and the crinkle of his eyes might just manage to melt the hardest of hearts. “I’d love that. Don’t have any plans tonight. Jack back home- my dog- will be fine for the night. I fed him before I left for lunch and he’s used to me keeping all kinds of weird hours for work. If your cooking smells anywhere as good as those brownies, though, you’re gonna have to shove me out the door later.” He’s a sucker for sweets, much to the chagrin of his dentist.

“I’m in. Thanks for the hospitality. Need me to run to the store, pick anything up for you? Least I can do. Unpacking’s such a pain in the ass. Last time I moved it took me months to get everything put away right. Guess that’s my own fault, though. I feel like I own too much.” The rumors are true about this one- helpful to a fault, with a powerful voice and a heart of gold. No wonder so many people in town have mentioned him with a knowing smile. It’s like he walked off the set of a questionable Hallmark movie, really…

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“You have a dog and didn’t think to bring him over too?” Tyler laughed cheerfully as he teased, “I could have meet Jack! Well, now you owe me a session of playtime with him.” To know that the ranger got a pet had Tyler thinking, perhaps he should get a pet as well? Tyler has always liked the idea of it, but his pervious profession didn’t allow too much room for commitment of any kind. 

“All good, I have everything I need for the evening.” Tyler grinned. “We do have an hour or two before dinner time, though. Can I get you something to drink? Tea or coffee? No, don’t tell me.” Tyler rubbed his chin slightly as he pondered, tilted his head aside as he glanced at the man from head to toes. “My guess is...You do tea and coffee, but would usually prefer coffee? Please say coffee. I did take time attending latte art classes.” It was obvious what Tyler’s prefer drink is. A professional coffee machine set proudly at the kitchen counter, ready to be used.

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Eric was all cheery and happy until Atlas was trying to copy his accent. That’s when the smile froze on his features and he slumped down on the corner seat, staring at the other man. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, then it was people mimicking his accent. He knew it was strange; some mixture of Irish and German and probably British inbetween because he had lived in London, too. But he had had his fair share of people mocking him.

He quietly cleared his throat and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Uh…well. I’m no’ really into art, most’f it jus’ looks loike…finger pain’in’s.” He only stole them, for fuck’s sake, without giving them a second glance. Just because he had to deal with art job-wise, didn’t mean he had to like it. Or care about it, for that matter.

Photography, however…well, if it was well-executed. Why not? “Bu’ I guess…photography’s a’righ’.” The smile returned, though hesitantly. “Wha’ koinda photography is it? No’ ‘em nude things, I hope.”

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The look on Sean’s face did not go unnoticed. Atlas’s head tilted slightly, smiled faded a little as he looked at the other man. “Oh, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to- It was a poor joke. But I do like your accent.” He licked his lower lip and rubbed the back of his head, sounded genuine. “I have always been terrible with learning language. So frankly, I admire you for evidently being fluent in more than one language.”

Atlas looked relieved when the smile returned to Sean’s face. He smiled too, laughed a little when Eric concerned the theme of the exhibition. “Portraits, yes. But Joline doesn’t based her work around nudity. Otherwise, there is another photographer involved who is also a good friend of mine, who does some amazing street photography.” His smile widened. “So I take that as a yes, then? It will be smart-casual, by the way. No need for a full suit and tie, unless you want to.” He chuckled softly as he recalled their last encounter. “You do look good in a suit, though.”

-

Both of Casper’s hands moved below, a light twitch with them and he made the below surface feel higher, even though the exterior’s space had not been altered. The table itself changed so it became a full on crystal for Casper to look at the other. It was already bad enough that he was questioned, but knowing he had been put in charge of being seduced? Annoyed him. 

He was sure he wanted to look at Alistair, as his hands pulled his shaft off of his trousers, “take a hint of its smell,” he ordered, as he reached for his glass to take a sip, “touch it, feel it, taste it. You like my cock like it’s the only thing you want to put in your mouth. And you want it now. Here. And always.”

It was confusing. That strange sense of peace and quietness in his head, so strong it muffed out all the noises in his mind, even his own voices. He thought he could hear himself shouting, like a caged beast banging against the metal poles of a prison wall. But when Alistair looked up, those noises no longer matter, so insignificant when compare to the magnificent before him. The table he was under shifted, expanded like the law of space and physic no longer applied to this place where Casper put him into. He could see the wooden structure of the underside of the table turned into beautiful crystals, where his blue eyes met the man above him.

His lips opened, a quiet gasp, his eyes once more captured by the other man’s sharp gaze. He was so focused on the man’s eyes it took him a few seconds before he noticed the scent in the air. He shifted his gaze down, watched Casper released his pride before him. His own voice from a distance suddenly became louder, but Casper’s voice banished those noises. No. This was a special place. Only Casper’s voice should be allowed.

“...The scent.” Alistair leaned in like a pup discovered the beauty of a flower blossom for the first time. He took a deep breath, let that musky scent filled his lungs, left a mental mark in his brain. “...Touch. Feel.” He slowly raised both his hands as he knelt down in between the man’s legs. His blue eyes lost focus, mesmerised by the sight before him. He gently touched the man’s pride with care. It was hot, thick, long with beautiful vines wrapped around it. The way those vines pulsed...It was strong, filled with the energies of life and strength. Alistair swallowed, suddenly noticed how dried his throat has become.

Taste.

Alistair leaned in further, with tongue stuck out from his mouth. He felt like this was a sacred moment. Like when the God has given humankind fire for the first time. The tip of his tongue touched the crown of the man’s shaft, slowly licked over the slit at the tip. Alistair shivered, felt the musky taste spread across his taste buds and captured all his scenes. He made a weak groan, before swallowed half the size eagerly like a hound given a treat by its owner.

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“Danke,” Eric whispered, gently correcting the other, “no ‘i’,” before he repeated Atlas’ order to the woman behind the counter – in German again. A blush crept into his cheeks. Adorable? Because he liked apple pies and hot chocolate? He wasn’t ten anymore…

He pointed out where they would sit, then lightly placed his hand on Atlas’ elbow, gesturing for him to follow the thief to the free table in the corner of the café. “A couple days,” Eric replied on their way through the crowd of people. “Munich, eh? Course ye can’t compare it ta this shite hole – Munich’s a lo’ be’er.” He grinned broadly, earning himself a few annoyed looks from the other customers. Fuck them. Everyone knew that Munich was the better city, they just didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“We go’ veal sausages an’ pretzels; we go’ huge palaces in an’ ‘round Munich, Bavaria go’ a lo’a big, beautiful lakes. Mountains. Green fields. We go’ ‘em huge churches – if ye’re into tha’ shite – an’ a shiteload’f history. So no,” Eric turned to face the other man again, “ye can’t compare it ta Berlin. Wha koinda show’s yer friend in, though?”

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“...Dankie.” Atlas repeated after Sean and tried to lose the ‘i’. The attempt was poorly executed, but small improvement can be noted. One might think someone as well travelled as Atlas might be at least be good in learning new language to some degree, but honestly, Atlas was surprisingly terrible at it.

That said, Atlas does put in efforts into learning.

Atlas couldn’t help but laugh when he listened to Sean’s sudden explosion of words when he talked about Munich. It was the most he has spoken since they have met. “It was obvious with which city you prefer.” He teased with an amused grin, “And for the record, I am into anything. I earn a living by going to places and write my experiences into words, remember?” He nodded, offered a small shrug about the show. “Art. If you haven’t noticed, my family has quite a fair amount of connection within the art industries. But my friend, Joline, is a photographer and she has this incredible project that will be showcased in this gallery...” He gave Sean a glance, rubbed the back of his head as he pondered.

“...You can come and be my plus one, if you are interested.” He offered, a small smile on his face before he tried to mimic the way Sean spoke earlier. “...If ye’re into tha’ shite.”