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Or, well. To be completely honest, I actually sort of fell into him. Onto. Whatever. Er, whichever–? Oh, fuck it. Why bother with semantics when you're draped across a guy's lap?

And yet I did bother, automatically correcting myself without thinking as I craned back my neck and stared skywards, my gaze held by the prettiest damn green eyes I'd ever seen. Not a boy's lap, I amended. A man's. I wasn't aware of the wetness until I felt it, seeping past my jacket's ragged threads.

Turns out, I had swiveled carelessly on my stool, my knee knocking roughly with his, resulting in the jostling of the man's drink. The fine liquid had sloshed onto his crotch and front, and to keep me from whipping headfirst into a row of other glasses on the bar's counter, he'd grabbed me and pulled me against him. My back met with hard, unyielding muscle; and for one terrifying moment, I tasted panic, sparking hotly on my tongue.

I was more than just appropriately stunned––and yet my fingers were as coordinated as ever, itching at the tips, recognizing the perfect opportunity my clumsy mishap had uncovered. Judging from the genuine and therefore undoubtedly expensive leather that lay partially beneath me, this guy wasn't no two-penny drunk.

Rather than bring myself to look him in the eye, I fixed my attention on the gleaming, eagle-shaped spread pin attached to the breast pocket of his shirt. Fierce-looking even without animation, its tawny eyes seemed to glare right back at me, wings stretched out in a majestic display as with the talons of one foot, it held itself upright upon an olive branch, while the other foot grasped a bundle of arrows. Weird. But shiny.

In other words? Jackpot.

"You alright down there, kid? Gonna move or what?"

I nearly jumped outta my skin. As it was, my head came up and only the man's cat-like reflexes that saved him from getting a mouthful of my skull. Shit, but he had a deep voice. He was right, though; I had a choice to make now. Was I going to move? Fuck everyone else––if I played my cards just so, this guy would be feeding me for months.

Hmmm.

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Maybe it was his night, Col. Maddox Lynch thought to himself as he stared down into a pair of gorgeous, slate-grey eyes. Goddamn, who would've expected such a damn pretty face? And on such a clumsy boy, no less. Swallowing a chuckle, Maddox schooled his own features. The last thing he wanted was a fight and he'd bet his eyeteeth that the man in his arms was as proud as he was clumsy.

Then again, man wasn't really an appropriate adjective for him. Boy was far more fitting––because the waif situated in his lap had to be at least seventeen. Nineteen, at the most. Age notwithstanding, though, the kid certainly made for a good armful, all slinky curves and wiry muscle.

Reaching out, Maddox grasped the boy's chin, tipping it skywards so he could better see the rest of his face. Creamy skin smudged with dirt; greasy dark hair plastered to high, gaunt cheekbones; pouty, cupid's bow-shaped lips residing beneath a pert, freckled nose.

"Think I'll stay here," said the boy––and the smile he slanted up at Maddox damn near made the colonel's heart stop. It sure as hell made him grin like a fool in response. Yeah, he was so fucking wasted. "If you don't mind, that is. The room's still spinning."

Those pretty, pretty of his grey eyes said otherwise; they were steady and firm, as they stared into Maddox's own, no sign of involuntary movement whatsoever to indicate vertigo or dizziness in general. But he was drunk enough that he was willing to overlook the lie in favor of the kid's ass remaining where it was: on his semi-hard dick.

He hadn't said anything at this point in response and so it shouldn't have come as a surprise that the kid took his silence for a negative. The weight [was] suddenly gone from his lap; and without thinking, Maddox reached to pull it back. His hands grasped the kid's hips, accidentally pushing back the ragged fabric of the shirt he wore beneath his jacket, and suddenly they were touching skin-to-skin, the sheer novelty of it nearly dragging a groan from Maddox's throat.

Alcohol surging in his veins, he placed the kid firmly on his lap once more, though this time he took pains to adjust his own position, to allow for more wiggle room. Words sprang from his mouth, seemingly of their own accord. "I might just be really drunk," he muttered, "But you feel amazing."

To his surprise, the kid only threw back his head and laughed, flashing white teeth and pink gums. He also bared his throat in the movement––an exposure of silky skin that had blood surging eagerly southwards. Fuck, he looked so sexy .. Maddox just couldn't resist.

"I'm gonna carry you to one of the booths near the front," he told him, "'cause I wanna kiss you silly. So don't freak out on me, 'kay?"

Maybe he was just really drunk .. but he could've sworn the kid nodded in response.

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A/N: Okay, so I lied about the kissing .. but it worked, didn't it? You kept reading! And you were rewarded with .. aw, shit, is that a cliffhanger? Ooops. I'd say I'm sorry, but then I'd be lying again. There will be kissing soon––believe me at your own risk.

Next Chapter: Remember when I said soon? Well, I meant it.

Don't forget to review if you enjoyed––hell, even if you didn't. Regardless, I'd like to hear about it. It can be two sentences, 4+ paragraphs, or a single word. You don't have to write a novel to let me know you appreciate my hard work [not that I'd complain if you did, heh]. Reviews keep my lazy ass cranking out the chapters(; ٩(•̮̮̃•̃)۶