Conan sighed and shifted, and his foot brushed something. He looked down, and spotted a scarf. It was a deep maroon red, and when he picked it up, the fabric was decadently soft. Cashmere or something.
It belonged to the man.
A new idea sparked to life. Conan wasn’t usually one to chase after men, but maybe…
Seconds spun by, and his hands curled in the soft fabric of the scarf. Oh, he was prissy alright. Probably had high thread count sheets, one of those rainfall showers.
Fuck it,Conan decided. He took the scarf and hurried out of the bar.
He hit the street just in time to see the figure in the dark coat taking the stairs down toward the canal walkway half a block away. Shit, he was quick.
Conan zipped up his jacket against the cold and started across the cobblestone street. It was already so cold. If he couldn’t make this work, he doubted he’d be getting any sleep shivering his ass off tonight.
All the more reason to make this work.
By the time Conan got to the steps down to the canal, he could barely see the figure. There were no lights this way, and it was almost pitch dark.
It didn’t escape his notice as he started down the stairs that he was a large, intimidating looking man, following anotherman away from the lit bars and into a dark, secluded area. With the scarf in hand, at least Conan had a reason. Something he could use to approach with.
He’d have to be careful how he did it. If he tried to run up on the man, he could flee. Or worse, be so scared that even if Conan returned the scarf, there’d be no opening for flirting.
But he couldn’t be too slow either. The man was making quick strides, heading toward a dark bridge up ahead, the distance between them lengthening. The further they got from the bar, the more suspicious Conan would seem, so he needed to catch up.
He lengthened his stride, the scarf tucked over one arm. He kept his eyes on the shape ahead of him. He needed to be non-threatening, but still interesting enough that the man wouldn’t just thank him and continue on his way. They’d shared a moment in the bar, and the man had smirked at him in a way that Conan was sure was flirtatious.
As he hurried, he could hear his own footsteps on the cobblestones, the way they echoed against the water. The other man had to know someone was down here with him. There’d be no disguising it.
But if he could get an invite back…
Desire hit him all over again. The man had been awfully pretty sitting there at the bar. The kind of pretty you thought about even months later, having only glimpsed their face in a crowd. The kind of pretty that Conan itched to mess up. To see teary eyed and ruined.
Over the years Conan had talked his way into the beds of a lot of men, but few had been as pretty as that.
Conan wasn’t above acknowledging he was a sucker for a pretty face. It was maybe even part of the reason why he was attempting this at all. Maybe it was a fool's errand, but he’d get another look at those fine features at least.
Conan quickened his stride, trying to step lightly so the sound wasn’t bouncing around so loudly. Seconds passed though, and he wasn’t gaining on the man.
Had he sped up?
Fuck.
At this rate he wouldn’t catch him.
If Conan ran, he was risking being the threatening presence in the dark. But if he called out, the man could still run, and the distance between them was so great he might actually get away.
Conan just needed to get close enough for a conversation, get his foot in the door. He’d always been a big man, and had spent years learning how to put people at ease about it. How to flirt his way in and out of things. He could do this, he just needed an opportunity.
Conan took a breath, long and deep, and made the decision.
Between one step and the next he was off, jogging as quietly as he could to catch up. His heart was thumping, his skin prickling cold because the material of his jacket was too thin.
It would be so, so cold in his car tonight, he reminded himself. It was worth this risk, even if he spooked the man, he could calm him down, right?
The man ahead took off running.
Fuck.
“Wait!” He called as he kept going. Something bright and hot zipped up his spine at his own daring to continue. The odds of this working were decreasing, but he pushed past it. If he could just–just get a word in–!
