Seven pulled Ciaran off the stool and led him around the crowd to one of the exit doors. Ciaran followed Seven willingly enough, knowing that the dealer would never betray him to the any of the hard core people on the street and vice-versa. They did have a business relationship to keep, after all.
Ciaran stretched his mouth into his usual wide, smirking smile, and fell into a light, hip-swaying walk. Yeah, he knew how to use his body to get what he wanted, when he wanted.
The crowd thinned a little and he nearly jerked to a halt in mid-stride as he spotted the person leaning against the wall near an exit door. He was dressed in a dark blue and white business suit this time, arms crossed over his chest and his blue eyes looking right at him from behind his glasses. There was a slight smirk on his mouth, a mocking expression to match Ciaran's own. Seven tugged him forward, coming to a halt in front of the Uswian.
"Here he is," Seven said. "Our resident tricker."
"Raythe," the man said smoothly. "I said I would see you again."
"So what do you want this time?" Ciaran asked.
The Uswian straightened up and took a few steps closer, reaching out with one hand to tilt his chin up. "How much to kiss you?"
"As a test to see if you like the goods? Free."
"Such the business man, aren't we?"
The Uswian leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Ciaran's, lips parting. Ciaran opened his mouth to the invasion, feeling an arm go around his waist and pull him against the strong, hard body in front of him. Ciaran pressed himself against the body that held him, the kiss becoming frantic.
His mind blanked at that. It felt perfect. Fulfilling his needs with just that.
The next thing Ciaran knew he was being shoved back into Seven's arms. Seven barely caught him before he collapsed to the floor, legs unwilling to support him, head lolling awkwardly. The Uswian turned on his heel and opened the door.
"Anything, Ciaran? If that's your payment, then we have a deal. I'll see you soon."
And just like that, he was gone.
"Fucking asshole," Seven muttered as he practically dragged Ciaran to a chair and sat down, pulling the limp Qolian youth onto his lap. Ciaran dropped his head onto his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut "Ciaran, what did he mean?"
Ciaran smiled; the expression dreamy. Struggling back up to his feet, saliva coated lips pressed against Seven's neck. "Seven?"
"I'm hard. Wanna fuck?"
Seven bent his head and kissed him fiercely. "Do I have to pay?"
"Nah. Consider it an early birthday present," Ciaran told him even as the other man was undoing his pants. Seven undid his own before tugging Ciaran's down his hips. He maneuvered the youth more firmly on his lap before thrusting up into him. Ciaran arched against him, lifting his arms over his head and twining his hands together behind Seven's neck. Seven braced one hand on the teen's stomach, the other one working him fiercely even as he thrust up into the tight warmth that surrounded him.
No one noticed them as they fucked. And even if they did, they didn't care. Their act of sex was normal in a place like this. The chair rocked with their rhythm, sounding like it would break, but Seven didn't care. All that mattered was the warm, willing body seated on his lap and the tight heat that held him. Ciaran came first; mouth pressed in a tight line, body arched and tense. The clench of his body around Seven sent the older man over the edge and he bit down on Ciaran's shoulder, muffling his cries. They sagged back down together on the chair and for a moment, neither moved. Then Ciaran lifted himself off of Seven and adjusted his pants.
Turning around he snagged Seven's wrist and brought his hand to his mouth and slowly licked it free of his semen. Green eyes watched as Seven became hard again and when he was through, he bent over and gave him a messy kiss. It was sweet and tender, almost gentle. Then he was pulling away, fingers brushing over Seven's cheek.
Then he was gone, sucked up into the crowd like had never been there. Wraith cursed and got to his feet, pulling his pants up. "Just like him to fuck and run without doing anything about it," Seven muttered to himself as he opened the door to step outside. It slammed shut on his heels and he moved away, intending to go home. After Ciaran, anyone else just wasn't good enough.
He heard the click of the trigger too late.
"No witnesses," a cold voice said.
The shot was muffled by a silencer but it echoed loudly in Seven's ears. The split second before the bullet hit him he realized that - somehow - Ciaran had known.
A fuck. A kiss. What a way to go.
And then nothing.
The body fell to the ground, dark eyes unseeing with death, the dirty snow scarlet covered. He pocketed the gun and turned on his heel to leave, adjusting the glasses on his nose with a sigh.
Inside, surrounded by bodies and music, Ciaran danced to a rhythm only he could hear. Head thrown back in wild abandon, body pressed against a stranger's, his eyes gazed into the darkness unseeingly even as he smiled.
A single tear tracked down his cheek.
He did not notice.