#lifeofthewickedwitch

The guy was... Not beautiful, Bahorel wouldn't exactly call him beautiful, but it was impossible to take his eyes away from him. His hair was messy in something like a crew cut, except the strands of hair at the top of his head were longer; they would probably cover his eyes if they weren't that curly. His nose was long and his lips thin, bowed in a seemingly permanent smirk. But what Bahorel loved more at the moment was the outfit; who thought it was okay to wear bermuda shorts to a bar? The guy was unbelievable. And cute. A little cute, yes.

Unfortunately, he wasn't alone. Two girls and another guy were chatting with him, making him laugh with whatever story they were telling, making it impossible for Bahorel to approach him casually. He saw his chance not long after when his prey excused himself to go to the bathroom, walking away from his friends and disappearing behind the door. Bahorel followed him inside, unashamedly, and stood a few feet away from him at the urinals.

He didn't spy on him -he wasn't a creeper, mind you- but he made sure to smile seductively at him when their eyes met. "Hey," he purred, just for good measure. The guy frowned, probably weirded out by Bahorel's poor intent to socialize in a restroom, but gave a small nod anyway. He zipped his pants up, washed his hands, and walked out before Bahorel could catch up with him. He gotta step his game up.

He saw him again an hour later, leaning against the wall while drinking a beer. He was completely alone now, but he was smiling; Bahorel followed where he was looking at and discovered that the guy he'd been talking with early was now dancing with the two girls, trying to convince Bahorel's prey to join them. Apparently he didn't like to dance, which was awesome for Bahorel: he had him all for himself.

"Hello again," he say, leaning on the wall next to him. "Your friends?" he added when the guy didn't answer.

"Yeah, they're fucking idiots."

"But good enough dancers. Wanna join them? I can go with you if you're scared."

The guy snorted and Bahorel considered it a small victory. "No, thanks. I'm fine here," after a brief pause, he said "I'm Feuilly, by the way."

"Feuilly," Bahorel rolled the name in his tongue. "A pleasure, I'm Bahorel."

.

Feuilly's friends got lost in the dance floor for another hour so they decided to go find themselves another drink. While they waited for the barman to bring them their beers, Bahorel pressed his knee against Feuilly's thigh, causing a small gasp from the man's lips. Seeing as the gestured was well received -or, better put, he hadn't gotten punched yet-, he leaned closer to whisper nothings in Feilly's ear, brushing his lips on his jaw.

"What ya doing?" he asked, slurring the words.

"I was trying to kiss you."

"Hmmm."

Feuilly narrowed his eyes, looking intently at Bahorel. A smirk spread over his face and, a second later, he had his hands curled around the fabric of Bahorel's shirt to bring him closer, joining their lips unceremoniously in a wet kiss.

"There you go," he said, moving away from him to sip at the bottle across from him. "I think I solved your problem".

Bahorel licked his lips, tasting Feuilly on them. "Let me take you home", he whispered in his ear, gently grabbing Feuilly's crotch.

"Sure, why not?"

Feuilly lived near the bar, like five blocks or so away. They kissed some more on the way there, licking each other's lips and sucking on their tongues. Bahorel's pants were too tight already and he felt a bit ashamed of how quickly Feuilly had turned him on with a few kisses and a little bit of groping. But he couldn't be blamed, though; Feuilly was skilled and he was working on Bahorel with expertise. He wondered what else he could do with those hands and that mouth.

They stopped at the door of an old building and Feuilly slid the key into the lock. He hesitantly looked behind him, and after a moment of reflection, he said. "D'you wanna come up?"

"Oh, I'd love to."

Feuilly's eye-rolling was totally worth it, Bahorel thought as he followed him upstairs.

As he accepted the coffee Feuilly was handing him, Bahorel couldn't help but noticed Feuilly wasn't so keen on resuming what they'd started at the bar. It was a shame because Bahorel really, really wanted to fuck him but if he wasn't in the mood anymore, maybe he could get him to agree to a date or something. He drank the coffee in a quick gulp and grabbed his jacket.

"So... That was fun. I guess I'll see you sometime soon? I hope?"

"You're leaving already?" Feuilly asked, honestly intrigued.

"Yeah, I mean... We're done here, right? You're really hot, man, and I'm still kinda horny down here but it's okay if you want to, like, not have sex right now and take things slowly. I can roll with that and stuff."

Feuilly lowered his mug, humming as he licked his lips. He walked slowly towards Bahorel and he felt a twitch in his cock at how sexy the man looked, the bastard. Apparently his excitement wasn't at all undetectable as he first thought, for when Feuilly stopped inches apart from him, his eyes were focused on his crotch where his pants were slightly tented.

"I'm thinking I can't let you go like this, can I? What kind of host I'd be?"

Feuilly was practically flushed against him, chest to chest as he pushed him backwards until Bahorel's back hit the door. His hands immediately found Bahorel's dick, palming him through the fabric.

"A terrible one, I must say. 0/0 would not recommend."

Feuilly snorted again; Bahorel was starting to like that sound.

He palmed him a little harder and smiled wickedly when Bahorel couldn't suppress his moans anymore. Then he withdrew his hand, to Bahorel's dismay, and went to his knees unzipping Bahorel's jeans. "Oh my God, you're not teasing, are you?"

"I will if you don't shut up."

He mouthed at the engorged bulge in Bahorel’s underwear, leaving a wet spot where his tongue had lapped at the tip of his cock. Bahorel grunted, lacing his fingers in the long strands of hair at the top of Feuilly's head; it was incredibly soft, he couldn't help to notice. All thought left his mind when Feuilly pulled his boxers down his thighs, barely enough to free his dick. He looked up for a brief second, making sure Bahorel was still with him, and then took him into his mouth, grazing the skin with his teeth.

Bahorel let out a dirty moan, throwing his head backwards with a thud against the door. He accidentally jerked his hips into Feuilly's mouth, almost choking the man. "So- sorry." Feuilly grunted his answer, the vibrations doing wonders on Bahorel's cock. Feuilly bobbed his head up and down, stroking what he couldn't stuff in his mouth with one hand while the other rubbed his own erection still trapped inside the ridiculous bermuda shorts. He moaned around Bahorel's dick, hollowing his cheeks to suck harder on the tip.

It was too much for Bahorel; he could feel the muscles of his stomach tightening as his climax neared him and, with all the composure he could master, he warned Feuilly. "Dude, I'm... I'm close. You should... Oh God, you should-"

Feuilly pulled off with a wet pop and kept stroking him with his hand, his eyes trained in Bahorel's own at all times. He came seconds after, the hot cum sliding down Feuilly's hand and landing on the hard wood of the floor. He stroked him through it, gently, wiping the saliva off of his chin with the back of his hand. When Bahorel came down of his high, Feuilly stood up with a pained grunt, rubbing his red knees with the hand that wasn't covered in Bahorel's cum.

"Don't go," he said, disappearing behind the bathroom door to clean up his hand. As if Bahorel could move after that. "Here," he said moments later, handing him his cellphone. "Put your number here and maybe we could... go to the bar sometime."

Bahorel gave him his own cellphone, too, and the room fell in complete silence as they saved each other's number. When Bahorel was done, Feuilly's cellphone rang in his hand. "Uh, a Grantaire guy is calling you."