Changeling Pt.1 - Teil 2

It wasn't that this guy had THE looks, he didn't act charming or lovely at all. Just shy of 180 cm in height he loomed over Kelaste, stormblue eyes staring down at him with a mixture of good-natured humor and just a tic of volatile intent, as if undecided if he should grab him and ruff his hair, or just break his neck. He didn't even look clean, tangled clothes and grazed boots and all, smelling faintly of beer, smoke and just a tickle of Axe, and the piercings made him just a bit too archaic for Kelaste's normal tastes, but something.. something about the pure sight of that guy just got him off.
Scared with the sudden intensity of forbidden lust Kelaste shrank back emotionally, and one of the dozens of social masks slipped into his demeanor. A smile, cocky and purely kittenish crawled into his face, and with a good amount of internal horror he watched himself chirp right into the strangers face "What about you get beer for you an' me, and I'll pay?"
Fighting the urge to run away right there he watched Mohawk think, returning the solemn look with a purely charming one. He knew himself, knew this state of autopiloting through socially awkward moments, and he knew that Mohawk there wouldn't see anything that betrayed Kelaste's seemingly perfect flirt. Nothing except a young guy, a boy, getting hot over him and overdoing the friendlyness just a bit. This was his safety valve, being able to flirt and piss of his chosen one at the same time.
Finally "Mohawk" seemed to come to a decision, and gestured to the barkeeper, who started muttering low voiced complaints about giving away alcohol to minors, but was shut up fast when he saw the big banknote Kelaste handed over to his new benefactor. Money talked, and Kelaste knew he'd have gotten the beer even without the help of his pierced companion. This way it was just a bit less awkward, and he wrung out a smile when he reached for one of the bottles.
Mohawk seemed to have another way in mind though, and just before Kelaste could get the bottle, he pulled it up and out of his reach. Well, he could have leaned in and tried to snatch it from his hand while pressing himself against the front of his benefactor, but the thought alone made him shutter excitedly, so he didn't even try it. Nothing ruined the mood as fast as pressing his beginning hard-on against the knee of a straight guy.
"How old are ya'?" Mohawk drawled with a slightly husky voice that detailed the consumption of too many cigarettes and whisky, a frisky smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as he wagged the upheld bottle a bit.
A low sigh escaped Kelaste, then he smiled theatrically shy and purred "Nineteen. Getting on moral high ground there, Gramps?". Teasing again, are you sure that's such a good idea? he scolded himself silently the next second, trying not to cringe under the stare of his new acquaintance, but returning it with an seemingly effortless smile.
Mohawk frowned, then he broke into a grin and offered him the bottle with a wink. "Can't blame an old man for worrying, can you."

Kelaste snorted, then grinned back, taking a sip. Old, are you kiddin' me? Can't be that much over twenty. he mused, registering the absence of crow's feet, or any signs of wrinkles. One fast lookover, and Kelaste decided on "around twentyfive". Not too old, not too young, propably already sexually established, presumably NOT interested in guys. Gay folk didn't dress like this, Kelaste assumed, and fought to keep his smile in place.
Pity, that is. Time to end this little prank. he decided, and shot one last smile at Mohawk, before stepping back and purring "You can keep the change, as a little thank you for getting me the beer." Inside, he hoped to piss of that decidedly too hot guy and get going. The tightness in his skintight trousers was killing him, and he pulled his jacket closer around himself to hide the obvious state of his libido without thinking about it.