“What can I say, guess I just like to live dangerously.” Grayson smirked at the other, not phased in the least by the other’s hurt expression. He was definitely going to remember the feeling of the man’s tongue piercing, even with the briefness of the kiss. “That’s not what I would say about your face.” He said, blowing out smoke and shivering slightly in the cold air of the night. He grinned wickedly at the other man’s words about his organs, the drug making him feel relaxed enough to be more bold than was probably healthy.
“I know where I’d like your organs inside of. Wait. That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to.” He groaned, dropping his head into a palm in embarrassment. “Just ignore that whole part, it came out way more serial killer-y than I was going for.” His embarrassed smile slowly slipped off his face as he considered the other man’s words.
“I know I look young, but I am actually legal, y'know. Have been for six years, even! Single, able, and totally willing.” He muttered petulantly, knowing he was acting like a brat but suddenly unable to keep the disappointment off his expression. “I get if it’s, like, a moral thing or something, but I can also make my own choices here. I’m not some innocent, unwilling virgin you’re preying on. Haven’t been for a while.”
His grin is wicked, eyes alight with glee “Ain’t that right?” he readily agrees “No other way fer one to live, without a lil danger can ya’ truly say yer alive?”
How would you know? Sure the lack of bullets and loss of limb should be a dead giveaway but he’d rather be dead. Eh. It may not be something he dabbled in but he could appreciate a good kiss regardless of the source. The fact that it was a one off thing, made it taste almost sweeter. Tinged with the honey of his own smoke, a turn in the night he hadn’t anticipated but…wasn’t about to complain.
Another flash of teeth “Ya’ sure know how to charm a man an’ all his organs, hoss.”
In fact the guy was quite natural at it. It was almost refreshing. Of course he hadn’t banked on meeting much of anyone tonight, let alone exchanging words with something that could keep up. Not many could do so. As if Deacon were speaking in tongues or something. A huff. He caught the disappointment and he runs his tongue along his lips, his teeth echoing with the clink of his piercing “Ain’t nothin’ against ya’,” he says softer this time, uncharastically so “I’ve seen some shit hoss, sort o’ left a mark an’ enough o’ a need fer a personal code that it ain’t ‘bout to change.”
His smile takes on a wicked edge “Ain’t never once thought o’ ya’ as a virgin, sorry if that’s an insult but ain’t no virgin was gonna go an’ take a hit from a stranger let alone swap spit with ‘em.” a wink softens these words “An’ were I couple years younger I would be all over ya’–hell I’d already be in yer lap probably even if I am a bit of a big boy.” maybe he should offer to bring him round the club in a show of apologies “I work at that strip joint in town, ya’ ever in the neighbourhood let me know an’ I’ll get ya in free o’ charge, plenty o’ blokes prettier than me workin’ there.”
Well maybe not prettier because Deacon so happened to think he was god’s gift to mankind, but their morals on doing the tango were likely much more loose “Ya’ bored o’ me yet or did ya’ want another hit?”
