This wasn't the normal type of place he'd enter, but at the moment he really didn't care. It was a place to rest, have something to eat and drink, have a nice bath, and perhaps even find a warm body to keep him entertained for the evening.
As he stepped inside, he lowered the hood from his head, revealing his purple hair, and elongated ears that ended past the back of his head. They had ridges along the top part, and were adorned with silver hoops and chains. Behind his dark tinted glasses he observed the place with his white eyes. He knew that he'd most likely stand out with his white skin, and it didn't bother him. He was use to standing out no matter where he went, though usually it was because of his tail. It was something between a lion's and a dragon's tail; however, it didn't have fur or scales, just white flesh. There was also a tuft of dark puple hair at the end of it.
He hoped this place didn't offer only females. As lovely as the female form was, it never did anything for him.
He was interupted from his thoughts as a small red fox started nipping at his knee.
"Oi! Knocked it off furball. I know you're hungry, and I'll get ya somthing to eat soon enough. Just try and stay out of trouble."
The fox tilted it's head at him and huffed as though insulted.
"Oh don't you give me that look. You know damned well I can't leave you alone. I swear you have the manners of hyper active puppy."
Cyma didn't even bother to pay attention to the foxling's reaction, scooping said furball up in his clawed hands. Once he found a comfortable looking spot in the lounge, he sauntered over and plopped down.
Cherry yawned and stretched his arms over his head as he strode out of his room and down the stairs to the common room. On the way down, he casually straightened a few crooked wall paintings, even though they would be messed up again shortly, no doubt. It was a habit of his, and after working here for a few months, he'd grown used to the ghosts.
It was rather quiet downstairs, he noted, but then again it was also evening. Most of the prostitutes had probably already hooked up with a client, so chances were it was going to be a long and dull watch--unless some client misbehaved, in which case he'd get to toss them out. That was always kind of fun, and he always gave them a few bruises to remember him by. Over the last few months, he'd come to view the other workers as good friends, so when they got harassed, it was personal.
He wrinkled his nose at the heavy incense scent that greeted him, but thankfully it no longer bothered him so much. Thank goodness. Damned aphrodisiacs made working so difficult in the past.
Cherry ran a hand through his bright red hair to straighten it out a little, though it reverted right back to its unruly state a second after, and after fixing one final painting near the bottom of the stairs, he headed off toward the common room. Past that was the entrance, where he'd be relieving the one of the other resident bouncers. Weird. It was still so quiet. It was going to be such a dull nigh--
His thoughts cut off when, halfway through the lounge, he spotted a man, well...lounging around. With a little fox? Cherry arched an eyebrow at that, paused, and looked around quickly to see if anyone else was around. No one, yet. Probably all busy at the moment, or getting things ready or something. The other bouncer could wait a few more minutes.
Cherry cleared his throat. "Ah, excuse me, I'm not sure this is the best place for pets," he said, looking the man and his fox over. He looked interesting. Cherry might have been taken aback by his appearances a while ago, but since coming to this city he'd seen all manner of bizarre folks and heard all manner of bizarre tales, so nothing really shocked him anymore. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and crossed his arms over his chest. "But anyway...have you been helped yet? I'm Cherry by the way, resident bouncer guard duty person. If no one's seen to ya yet, I can round someone up."
He just had to give the obligatory 'I'm not a prostitute' spiel, just in case. He wasn't dressed like your typical whore, in a tunic and pair of comfortable breeches, but it wouldn't be the first time a customer had mistaken him for one. For some reason.
Couldn't be the weird name or the cherry tattoo on his cheek or anything.
The foxling looked up at Cherry, as though knowing that the man had refered to him as a pet. How could anybody believe that he was a mere pet. Cherry is being given a dirty look from the little fox.
Cyma looked up at Cherry then back down to the Furball and can't help but laugh. "The Furball's not a pet. He just started following me one day and hasn't stoppd since."
He turned his full attention towards Cherry now. He could see the other man was attractive enough, though there was the obvious air around him that screamed he wasn't one of the prostitutes. Of course that didn't always mean that he couldn't try later on. Though of course this was neither the time nor the place.
"You're the first person we've seen since we arrived, other then the bouncer at the door. I wouldn't mind a male companion for the night, though if that can't be arranged then a meal and a hot bath would be more then enough." It would be down right heavenly right now. Bathing in cold rivers and lakes did make a person clean, but it didn't allow for the luxgary that came with a hot bath.
Judging that light in the brothel wasn't too bright now that his eyes adjusted slightly, he removed the tinted glasses and tucked them away. His eyes completely white except for the black of his slitted pupils, which were almost non existant at this point, due to the light.
"Oh, well, ah...companion then?" Cherry corrected, eying the fox. Either way, it didn't seem like an animal should be in here, especially not a young one--innocent eyes and all, and getting fur on the good furniture besides. He had been about ready to reiterate and offer to put the fox outside when the man spoke again, and Cherry's mouth snapped shut.
Male companion.
Cherry arched an eyebrow at the man's request, but otherwise made no other remark. Male companion. Ah. So this guy was one of those types, huh? Not that those types bothered him as much now as they had when he had first come here, for Cherry had a few friends here now whose tastes ran in that direction, but he'd be lying to say it didn't make him at least a little uncomfortable when the subject was brought up--or when he saw a man kissing another man, as happened here as often as women kissing men or other women (the latter of which he was fully supportive of). He'd gotten over the initial 'oh my gods what is that?' reaction at least, so he was making progress. Before long, he'd be completely desensitized.
He cleared his throat and smiled politely, focusing on the man's forehead as he spoke so as not to stare at his strange eyes. Didn't want to offend the paying customer by making them think you were judging them. As if Cherry had any room to cast judgment, anyway, considering where he was working. Wasn't like anyone had dragged him here and forced him to take the job. "Sure thing. I can go check who's free now--" And hope he didn't interrupt anything awkward. "--and send word to the cook to get a meal ready. You're more than welcome to use the baths while you're here, too--"
"Entertaining the guests yourself now, are we? I didn't know you were into that."
Cherry jumped and spun around to find Avery, one of the workers, standing a short distance behind him, and surprise quickly turned to relief. Thank gods! He could take the strange tailed guy off his hands--if he didn't already have a client. He wasn't close at all to Avery, but he knew the man was versatile, at least. "Er, no. Look, you busy tonight?" he asked, and jerked his thumb towards the tailed man. "'Cause if you're not, he wants a...guy."
Avery tilted his head and looked the man over, bright blue eyes lingering just a little longer on his tail than the rest of him--out of curiosity, not disgust--as well as the little fox. Then he shrugged, the silk robe he wore slipping off of one shoulder a little. He quickly adjusted it and flashed the man a coy smile. "I'm not too busy for you," he said, no longer addressing Cherry. Rather, he strode right past the bouncer and toward the seated man.
He was rather tall and, while slim, he wasn't the usual willowy waif that many of the other male 'Peaches' were; there was hard muscle beneath that robe. He had the looks of a native Adelan--perhaps a bit darker, favoring his tribal ancestry over his Serenian side--with shoulder-length black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and chocolate-colored skin. He stopped a couple feet away from the client, peering down at him, and then glanced over his shoulder at Cherry. "I think I can take it from here. You have a job to get to, yes?"
When Cherry excused himself and headed toward the door--rolling his eyes, though Avery missed it--Avery looked back to the man and smiled serenely down at him. "So...have a name, stranger?"
Tch, such a stereotypical line, yet he'd always wanted to use it.
The fox may look young, but Cyma rather doubts it. He's forgotten how many years has gone by and the little pest hasn't grown any bigger. It wouldn't surprise him any if the fox ended up being an old pervert.
Cyma observed Cherry as the man spoke, noting how he avoided his eyes. Humans were rather predictable in their ways. Tending to avoid making eye contact with others when they felt awkward, and did the same with animals to avoid showing fear. A faint smirk came to his lips as he thought about making Cherry feel a little more awkward then he already was. It was a rather tempting idea, though he really should behave himself for one night. However if the boy was still around when it came time for him to leave, that would be a whole other story.
He was drawn out of his musings when Avery arrived, bemused with his interactions with Cherry. It was almost as if the Planet had known what he was considering doing himself, and sent somebody else to do it instead. This was definately giving Cyma a positive initial opinion of Avery.
Cyma allowed his eyes to fully roam over Avery's body. Though unlike most clientel who undoubted gawked at the prostitutes with lustful gazes, his was more of an assessment. As though taking into account other things rather then just looks. His tactician mind storing most of it away for now. However he was pleased to see that this human wasn't anywhere near like the more slender males he had come to associate with such places. They were far too fragile for his tastes, far too easy to break under his hands.
He also noted how the man retained a small amount of modesty, which also pleased him. It told him that this person still had a fair amount of self respect. Had Avery decided to put his body on display as though to try and lure his attention, he would have turned him down right then. He had no use for a simpering submissive.
A smile danced across his lips as Cherry was easily dismissed. He'd pester the man later, for now his full attention turned to Avery, meeting his eyes directly. Seeing the curiosity there only increased his liking for the man. In his experience, humans were quick to judge based on appearences, and usually not for the better when it came to him.
"It depends on whether a person is friend or foe as to my name." He couldn't help the half cocked smirk that formed. "For friends my name is Cyma." (prounced sima)
The foxling swatted the halfbreed and glared at him. Cyma nearly rolled his eyes. "This one here is Furball."
This earned him an even harsher glare from the fox as it yurbled and yipped at him. "Now now, no need to get lippy with me." Obviously he's addressing the fox right now. "Besides it's your fault in the first place. You've been following my ass around this realm for how long and you've never thought to tell me your name? Yeah, that's what I thought."
He looks back to Avery with smile. "You'll have to excuse him. He tends to forget his manners after we've been travelling for extended periods of time."
Avery chuckled and pushed a strand of hair back from his face. "I'd hope you would consider me a friend, all things considered," he said, crossing he remaining distance between them to take a seat next to the man, body angled to face him. Not too close, but close enough. Always let the customer set the pace and call the shots, so as not to seem pushy or make them uncomfortable. Of course, if they wanted someone pushy he was more than happy to oblige, but until he got a good feel for what kind of person he was dealing with, he wouldn't so much as casually touch them unless they initiated the contact.
"As for me? Well, my name typically stays the same across the board. I'm Avery, and it's a pleasure to meet both you and..." He tilted his head, eying the fox. With how vocal the little animal was, it was almost like it was trying to talk. He smiled at it, then reached out tentatively so it could smell his hand if it wanted to, much as he wanted to just pet it and see how soft it was. That worked for dogs, and foxes were canines too, right? "...And your little friend here. Does he bite? He's so--!"
Avery stopped short before the word 'adorable' could slip out, biting down on his tongue, and then he cleared his throat, straightened up in his seat, and tore his eyes away from the fox. Ack. Avery would admit it, he had a soft spot for cute, fluffy things--but no, he couldn't pay more attention to the fox than to his potential client! No cooing, either, no losing his dignity over some little animal--at least not here before he knew the kind of person he was dealing with. Some people were just all business and no play and didn't appreciate that sort of flightiness. He withdrew his hand and let it fall back into his lap, then flashed a somewhat sheepish smile at Cyma.
"Pardon me, I don't see many foxes," he said with a wink, still feeling the man out and hoping he appreciated a little humor. "Anyway, ah, can I help you with anything? Cherry mentioned a meal--are you hungry? I can see that one is prepared for you, and in the meantime, if there is anything else I can to...? We have a wonderful bath house here, and private rooms."
The foxling sniffed at Avery's hand before licking it. Was the man about to call him adorable? Well it was true after all. Who in their right mind could resist such being like him? He looks up at Cyma and yurbles and yips as though to give his approval.
"He doesn't usually bite, unless it's somebody he really doesn't like. Even then the person usually deserved it." Cyma rubbed behind the Furball's ears. He could see that Avery was feeling him out, trying to figure out which might be the best way to interact with him. He appreciated this and offered the man a smile.
"Avery, it is a pleasure to meet you. For all intent purposes you may consider me a friend, since I doubt that there will ever come the day that you will have to consider me a foe." Which was true for the most part. He had no need to reveal his notorious nick name here. He'd come for a night of relatation and to be free from his stresses.
"Depending on how the night goes, you might be seeing a little more of this little Furball." The foxling yipped happily before bounding over into Avery's lap. Cyma couldn't help but laugh. "Looks as though you've made a friend with him. He might be annoying, but I've found his judgement of people to be spot on over the years." Years, centuries, it didn't really matter if Avery knew the truth about the foxling.
He nodded at the mention of Cherry. "We would like a meal as well as a bath. Preferabley some fruits and cheeses, bread and raw red meat." He might be able to handle some cooked meat due to his mother being human, but it still didn't always sit well in his stomach.
"You're bouncer seems a bit of a prude, considering he works in such a place. Then again I suppose that's probably a good thing when it gets right down to it." A sly smile comes across his lips, and he wonders if anybody has managed to pluck Cherry's cherry.... (I know it's bad, but I had to do it!! ^.^)
"Oh, I don't think he's annoying! He's gorgeous," Avery said quickly, grinning like an idiot as he scratched the fox behind the ears. Oi, so much for keeping his composure, but he couldn't help it. Forget soft spot for cute, furry things. He downright adored animals, especially dogs--he'd even had one back home, a huge mastiff he'd raised from a puppy--and here this little fox was, bringing out that side of him that would have loved to keep five dogs here if he could. So cute, so beautiful. He'd never actually seen a fox in the wild, much less up close, unless one counted the pelts his brother had brought in from hunts, but Avery certainly wasn't going to mention that here.
Anyway, he didn't think it would hurt to let go a little, either. From the few words they'd exchanged, this man seemed laid back enough--for goodness sakes, but he talked to a fox!--and Avery was getting the feeling that he wanted more than just a bedroom romp. Sometimes clients just wanted company and conversation; Avery liked those ones.
Even if they didn't pay as well.
He stroked Furball's fluffy tail, fascinated by it, and then eyed Cyma's tail when he was reminded of it. While he wondered what, exactly, Cyma was, he wasn't about to ask unless the information was volunteered. Asking someone, Say, what the heck are you, anyway? just sounded...a bit rude. "Anyway, I think you're right. About trusting Furball's judgment, I mean. They say animals can perceive things we can't, and some surmise they can even see into the Otherworld. It really wouldn't shock me. These little guys are mischievous as fae, I hear," he said with a smile, ruffling the fox's fur.
He listened as Cyma made his request, and he somehow managed to keep his face smooth instead of wrinkling his nose like he wanted to when raw meat was mentioned. Instead he just looked at Cyma, blinked, and then nodded. Riiight. Not his place to question what someone ate--he just hoped the man would wash his mouth first if he planned on kissing him.
Then the subject moved to Cherry, and Avery laughed. "Heh, Cherry? Oh, he's just new, that's all," he said, scratching Furball between the shoulder blades. "A few months ago and he was even worse, couldn't hardly look at anyone without blushing, so what you just saw was a vast improvement. Country kid, first time in the big city...you know how that goes." He waved a hand dismissively. "He'll get over it."
Anyone who worked in this environment for any amount of time would, whether that be as a bouncer, cook, 'Peach', or whatever other jobs there was here. The place was full of eccentric people, eccentric happenings, and it was no place for the shy. You either got over it or you got out. Avery had gotten over it. Had to.
Looking up from the fox and at Cyma, he caught the tail end of that sly smirk and arched an eyebrow. He knew that look well. "You don't fancy the bouncer now, do you?" he asked, lips quirking into a teasing smile. "Not that I blame you, he's a cute young thing, but I'm afraid he doesn't do much--if any--actual, ah, bouncing if you catch my meaning."
He winked at Cyma, pat the man on the knee lightly, then gently scooped the fox up and set him down in Cyma's lap. He adjusted his robe to make sure it was still properly closed before he stood. "But anyway! How about I alert the cook and show you to the bathhouse? Since it seems Cherry forgot to send in the order..."
Poor Cherry. It seemed the kid was always attracting male attention, though Avery did his best to divert it where he could.
[xD Someone had to make the joke.]
Cyma had to chuckle when Avery spoke of how mischevious animals could be. If he only knew. Of course he could imagine that the foxling was thinking 'Are you kidding?! Who do you think the fae learned it from?!' Of course the foxling would be refering to whatever the heck he was and not just plain animals.
He noticed that the man was checking out his tail again, and was probably too polite to just come right out and ask what he was. Cyma decided to take pity on the poor man when he saw the tiny flinch when he ordered the raw meat. "I get it from my father's side of the family." He motions to his tail as well to his exceptionlly long ears. "My father's kind also weren't able to eat cooked meat. I'm able to a little bit now and then, though trying to eat anything that's burnt is akin to eating raw poultry. Plus the Furball shouldn't be eating much cooked meat either."
He must really like Avery since he's actually offering him an explination for things so easily. Normally most people annoyed him enough that he couldn't care what they thought of him since he knew that he'd probably never see them again. He collected the fox into his arms and stood when Avery gave him back.
"As easy Cherry is on the eyes, I could tell that he's not all too comfortable with the thought of entertaining another man. So you need not worry about that, though you may have to worry about me giving him a hard time should I meet him outside of this place." He chuckles softly to allow Avery know that it was all in good fun.
"I am deffinately looking forward to a nice hot bath. It'll take away some of the aches and pains that cold water baths simply have no chance of doing." He walked with the grace of a predator, and even though he did seem at ease, a little part of him was always on guard. It was just a natural thing and he did it without thinking about it for so such a long time. However, once might notice that he also seemed to eminate the movements of the elven and even some traits of the fae.
Avery jolted and blinked at Cyma in surprise, blue eyes wide in momentary shock when the man answered his unspoken question. His cheeks colored a little, but then he relaxed again when he saw that Cyma wasn't offended. Ah, good. He must have been staring more than he'd thought, or maybe his face hadn't stayed as smooth as he'd thought it had. Oops. He didn't fancy himself so transparent, normally...
But at least he'd gotten his questions answered! He flashed a smile at Cyma. "The cook will like you--you're probably the easiest patron they'd ever have to cook for," he said, and began to lead the way. First, a quick stop by the kitchen. He glanced back at Cyma when he spoke, and was inwardly relieved by his words though he didn't show it.
"Haha, more like it's something he has to worry about, because I'm not," Avery told Cyma with a small shrug and a wink. "Outside these doors, he's not my responsibility. Ah, well, he's not my responsibility inside, either, but...no matter." He shrugged again, trailing off. Cyma probably didn't care to hear a lengthy tirade about his relationship with the other brothel workers. The fact of the matter, however, was that he felt protective of them, right down to the bouncers that were supposed to be protecting them. He was older than a lot of them and had been there for ten years, since he was sixteen, so he knew the ropes well.
"Besides, he is fun to tease," he added with a mischievous grin, and it was the truth. He'd goosed the bouncer a few times here and there, but it was all in good, harmless, platonic fun. Besides, Avery justified it under the notion that new folks needed to get used to the environment, and light hazing was one way of doing it. It served a valid purpose! Really!
...In addition to just being hilarious, getting someone to jump a good foot in the air like a spooked cat.
Once they had reached the kitchen, Avery turned to Cyma and held up a finger. "One moment, please. I'll alert the cook and be right back," he said before ducking into the kitchen, and less than a minute later he returned, brushing his hair out of his face where it had started to stick to his skin. It was always so steamy in there. "Alright, your meal should be ready within the hour. Now follow me, I'll take you down to the baths."
It was a quick walk past some rooms and down a short hall that ended in a closed door. Avery knocked on the door, and when there was no reply he opened it and motioned Cyma inside. Before them lay the bathing room, a large circular room done in blue tile with a large circular tub laid in the center. There were spickets set high in the walls for showers, and a room leading off to the side and out of the way near the front was designed to serve as a changing room.
"Here you are," Avery said, and motioned to the changing room. "Towels are in there, as well as soaps and oils. Help yourself."
He took a step back but stayed in the doorway, watching Cyma and waiting for a cue. Sometimes the clients wanted to bathe in privacy, sometimes they wanted company.
Cyma set the foxling down on the floor once they were in the bathing room. "I'll be out in just a minute then." He winked at Avery then sauntered into the changing room, ensuring that he had a nice sway to his hips and tail. Which was an invitation to stay.
He's gone for only a few minutes, taking time to neatly fold his cloths and set them aside. He sniffs each of the soaps and oils, choosing ones with light scents. He doesn't bother to wrap a towel around himself as he comes out of the change room. Modesty really was over rated at times.
As true to the flesh that Avery has seen so far, the rest of his skin is ivory white, though it's far from flawless. He has quite the collection of scars which vary from faded to fresh. Most of them tend to be centered on his back and torso, though he has a few and his arms and legs as well. Cyma never felt the need to hide these scars, nor that they somehow made him less desireable. These scars where part of who he was, and each one told a different story about him. To be emberassed about his scars was pretty much saying that he was emberassed about himself as well, which was the furthest thing from the truth. His frame was almost feminine and slight, though you deffinately couldn't call him a waif. His muscles nicely toned to fit his lifestyle of strength and agility.
He gave Avery a half cocked smile as he slipped into the tub, purring audibley with the warmth of the water. "Mmmm, why don't you come on in, the water's divine." The end of his tail flicking up out of the water as though to motion Avery forth.
He looked Cyma up and down when he returned, eyes lingering on his tail where it joined his body. Fascinating. He couldn't say he'd met many people with tails--and he hadn't seen them unclothed, either, so that was something else. It was kind of weird...yet neat. Huh. Oh, right, the rest of him! He continued scanning Cyma's body, mentally prepping himself to get in the mood as he usually did. As he usually had to. Luckily, Cyma had a nice body, unlike certain smelly soldiers he'd laid with before--eww, that had been trying--so there wouldn't be much of a problem there.
Now he just had to figure out the rest of what, exactly, Cyma wanted.
Avery was snapped out of his thoughts when Cyma spoke and eased into the water.
Erk. He wanted him to join him. Here. In the bathing room. Where it was bright.
That was always a little awkward.
While Avery had lost most of his shame and modesty over the years, he still preferred undressing where the lighting was dim--not because he was embarrassed, but for a very practical reason. Yep. This was going to be awkward. Here he had been hoping to keep his clothes on until they went upstairs.
He also hadn't been planning on taking a bath so soon. He'd already taken one this morning, and what was the use in taking a bath now, when they'd just get dirty, and he'd just have to take yet another one anyway? Oh well. He got paid for this, so no matter.
So instead of letting on to any of that, he kept his expression pleasant--a skill he'd perfected over years of working a job he loathed and bedding people he'd rather not. He smiled and lowered his lashes seductively even while he lamented the imminent loss of the pear-scented oils he'd used that morning. It was his favorite scent, but no, he'd soon be smelling of whatever soap Cyma had picked. "I'll be right back, don't go anywhere, now," he said with a playful grin before slipping into the changing room.
The grin faded once he was out of sight.
It didn't take long to strip out of his robe and hang it up, and he checked himself over in the mirror quickly and fixed his hair pins. He didn't want to get it wet again. He located a few extra pins in his hair, spares, and used them to pin up the rest of his hair so it was high off his neck, just in case. Another once over in the mirror, and he scowled at his reflection. Yep. This was why he preferred dimly lit rooms. There were bruises on his forearms from some smelly soldier a few days ago, and scratches on his shoulders and back from a lady he'd been with earlier that day. More bruises were spattered along his body from other clients--and his own clumsiness--and a few hickeys, both faded and fresh, on his throat and shoulders topped it all off.
Classy.
Oh well. Cyma invited him, so that was that.
He emerged from the changing room and walked proudly to the tub, shameless even in all his battered glory. Even though he was quite pretty--which he well knew--there wasn't much about him that could actually be called feminine. He slipped quickly into the water and hissed softly when the hot water stung the little healing cuts on his back. Darn women and their nails.
"Ahhh, you're right, this is nice...it's been a while since I could properly enjoy a bath." Like, since this morning, he thought. It was a lie; he made sure he was properly pampered each and every day.
Leaning back against the side of the tub, he let out a low sigh and sank down until the water was up to his shoulders, eyes drifting shut--but then they snapped back open when a thought struck. Sitting up a bit more, he looked around the bathing room for Furball, and then flashed Cyma a mischievous grin. "Would Furball like a bath, too?" he asked.
Cyma watched and categorized all of Avery's movements and reactions. He frowned to himself while the younger man was changing. It was becoming more obvious that this one was trying to figure out what he needed to do in order to please him. He intended to put a stop to it right there.
He looked up when Avery returned, noting the various bruises and wounds over him. Some people were just plain ignorant fools, and how he would love to smack them all. Though that would mean he'd be smacking nearly every human he came across and that was giving them more attention then they were worth.
"You can just drop the act you know. It's rather annoying when people behave how they think they want me to have them act." He snorts a little and grabs a bar of soap to start washing himself. "Just be yourself. I have far more respect for a person who is upfront with who they are. So don't try to figure out what it is I want, I'll let you know when the time is right."
He's raised his leg so that he can wash his foot, giving a hint at how flexible he can be. "If you'd like I could give you a salve you can rub into your bruises and scratches that'll heal them quickly. It's an old elven recipe that I've improved on over the years." He was casual about being around Avery, and treated him more like an equal then somebody beneath him. After all, why should he look down on somebody because of their job? That was just plain stupid and a far too human way of thinking.
"Furball could use a bath as well." He chuckles and looks around, spotting him sniffing around the change room. "He'll appreciate the warm water almost as much as I do."
Avery nearly snorted water when Cyma spoke, taking him completely off guard. He jumped, blue eyes widening, and stared at the man with his mouth agape. Oh dear. How did he...? Very few people, if any, actually caught on--then again, very few people actually cared. He blinked at Cyma, feeling suddenly very awkward, and sank down just a little lower in the tub. Well, shit--and that was coming from someone who rarely, if ever, cursed. Not even in his head.
For a few seconds he thought he'd blown it, but then Cyma continued and he let out a quiet breath. Oh good...
He needed the money.
Clearing his throat, he sat up again. Cyma had dropped the subject and was washing himself, so Avery conveniently avoided commenting. He didn't want to incriminate himself more that he already was, but he'd still take it to heart. Guy wanted him to get real? Well, he would. Took less effort, anyway.
An awkward silence settled between them until Cyma mentioned the salve thing.
"Huh? Oh, uh, sure..." he said slowly, snapping back to himself. "If you want. It's not a big deal, really. A friend of mine comes around here now and then to patch things up and keep us all healthy and oiled and running smoothly--or something like that. She's kind of like our doctor." He smiled, thinking on Elon, and then shrugged. "These will be gone in a day, anyway, and it's not like they hurt. It just comes with the territory, you know," he added, rubbing thoughtfully at a hickey on his neck.
Letting his hand fall back in the water with a splash, he followed Cyma's gaze and located Furball, then eyed Cyma. "Really? Don't all dogs hate water? Er, well, I mean he's a fox, but--"
He cut off with a jolt when a large portion of his hair came undone and tumbled down and into the water, hissing a curse under his breath and swatting reflexively at the air near his head but connecting with nothing. Augh! Why couldn't the little beast leave him alone?! "Stupid brat--er braid. Ah. What were you saying again?" he asked Cyma, scowling and scooping his hair back up and picking the loose pins out of the water. He wrung out his hair as best he could and then worked on pinning it back up.
Cyma arched a brow at Avery, catching his verbal slip up. So there was something other worldly around. After all hair doesn't fall out on it's own, especially not when it's pinned up as well as Avery had his. Yes, Cyma took note of that little details. It was habit by now. Though he decided to ignore it for the time being. Besides, whatever it was would undoubtedly give something for the Furball to entertain himself with.
"Actually many dogs love water, just as there are cats who love water as well." He shrugs a little as he moves on to was his other leg. "It really depends on the animal. The same goes for humans, though I honestly think that every human should be made to bath at least once a day. Twice depending on the person." He nodded matter of factly to himself and he moved on to washing his toes. He idly wondered if he should give his claw like nails a clear coat of paint. Maybe later, right now he had some rather nice eye candy keeping him company. Mmm, wonder what flavour he was.
With that thought, Cyma couldn't help but lean over to lick along Avery's shoulder towards his neck, for a little nibble on his pulse point. He tasted a little sweet, mostly from the pear scented oil. Though once past that he could taste pure Avery. People always tasted better when they didn't cover themselves with the perfumes and oils... and Avery tasted divine. If he were one to feast on the flesh of humans, he'd totally made him in to that kind of meal. However he planned on feasting on Avery in a very different fashion later on.
Avery had finished fixing his hair when Cyma spoke, and he blew a stray strand of hair out of his face and arched an eyebrow at the other man. Right. He totally knew that, not that he actually cared whether some dogs and cats liked water or not. It had been a general statement! Really. He gave a little amused snort and leaned back in the tub, propping both arms up on either side of it and letting the warm water soothe his muscles. He saw no use in soaping up again when he already had after the woman client early that morning so he was content to wait on Cyma, who seemed content to do any washing himself.
He closed his eyes, breathing in the steam and letting it relax him. ad he chuckled softly when Cyma commented on human bathing. "Heh. You have no idea how much I agree with you there," he murmured, head lolling back and one hand trailing absently through the water, flicking at it. He scowled. Cyma asked for honesty, so he was getting it. "In fact, I should be thanking you for doing this. You wouldn't believe how many people just come right on into my room off the street and expect me to--"
Avery cut off with a shudder, a shudder that was intended for the memory of performing certain dirty acts on bodies that weren't quite clean enough according to his rather immaculate standards, but that thought was banished and the bad shudder was replaced by a rather good one. He cracked open his eyes and his breath hitched when Cyma nibbled on his throat. It was such a simple action, one that never wouldn't have accomplished much ten years ago. Ten years ago and he would have gone, "Ewww! Disgusting!" and run away to clean off the slobber. Ten years ago, a lot of the things he did now would have absolutely revolted him--they certainly wouldn't have been a turn on like they were now. But after ten years of doing this, it didn't really take much. It didn't even take a particularly good client. His body reacted and it was easy for him to slip right into the state of mind he needed to be in to get the job done.
When that failed, he was still pretty damned good at faking it.
His skin flushed a little, not from shame because he no longer had any, nor embarrassment, and he smiled at Cyma when he was done. Well then. About time the man stopped beating around the bush. All this innocent talk and bathing together platonic-like had started to get annoying, since all Avery wanted was to just get this over with, collect his money, and sleep. "Cyma, is that something you should really be doing in front of Furball?" he asked softly, sliding one of his legs forward so he could it rub it against one of Cyma's.
A sly grin danced across Cyma's lips as he pulled back. "The Furball has a knack for making himself scarce when he needs to be." Which was true enough, and if they were lucky, the foxling would manage to keep himself out of trouble. "Unless he feels in a voyueristic mood." He gave a little shrug.
Leaning in once more for another taste of the younger man. After all one could have an appetizer before dinner, and dessert afterwards. He'd been travelling around for so long with only the Furball as any real company, and Avery just smelled and tasted so good. Had he still been a younger man there was no doubt he would have been all over Avery. However, those days had long since passed, and new he took pleasure in teaching those younger men restraint. Toying and teasing them until they were begging to be taken, it was such music to his ears. Avery might not be one of those types, but that was more then alright. He intended to fully indulge himself in the pleasures the younger man could offer him tonight.
Cyma's tail slide around to rub against Avery's leg as well, the tuft on the end brushing over the man's stomach. He'd learned long ago how to incorporate his tail into play, and it most often surprised people at first. There had been a few that had been a little too weirded out by it, but most didn't seem to complain.
...Voyeuristic...fox...?
Avery's eyes slid over to Furball, then back to Cyma, and whatever sparks of lust he'd felt were effectively doused. Furball. Watching. Watching them do things. If there was ever a phrase he never wanted to hear again, it was the word 'voyeuristic' in a sentence involving an animal, and the mere idea of a fox sitting there and watching--Avery swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat when his insides gave an unexpected twist.
'Peach' he may be, but damned if he didn't have standards and limits.
He opened his mouth, about ready to launch into an impromptu 'no animals allowed' spiel, but Cyma leaned in again and the words were replaced with a little gasp--not so much from the neck nibbles, but from what he felt moving against his stomach. Something...hairy. What the hell? There was a brief moment of panic and Avery gasped again and sucked in his stomach, then leaned back and away from Cyma so he could look down between them to see just what was stroking his belly. After his little mental freak out about foxes and voyeurism...yeah, having a random hairy thing against him was kind of weird.
Through the haze of steamy water he was just barely about to make out--oh, Cyma's tail.
That made him feel better. A tail he could deal with just fine, as long as Cyma left it at skin-brushes and didn't try to go anywhere weird with it.
But there was still the fox issue.
"Ah...erm...sorry about that," Avery said, realizing he'd jerked back when he'd felt the tail and quite aware of ruining the mood--well, at least on his end. Not good. He didn't want to chase away his customer away, he was walking money and he needed that. He grinned sheepishly. "That surprised me."
And then, in an effort to salvage the situation he cupped Cyma's chin and kissed him on the mouth, then at the corner of his lips. "Your meal is probably ready by now," he murmured.
Besides, he was starting to turn into a prune, and wrinkled hands and feet were never very attractive.
He had only been joking when he'd made the comment about the Furball watching, not having expected Avery to take it so seriously. He'd have to keep that in mind for now. However the reaction for his tail had been slightly expected, though it didn't appear as though the younger man was that put off by it.
Cyma smiled as he returned the kiss and nodded to the following words. "Could you ask for some hot water for tea, as well as a bit of milk for the Furball." He settled back to quickly wash his hair. "Is there some place you'd prefer us to be for the meal?" It was a fair question to ask, after all it didn't seem proper to eat while in the bathing room.
"Of course," he replied as he stood up in the tub and drip-dried for a bit before stepping out, carefully so he didn't slip--which had happened before and been thoroughly embarrassing. He picked up a towel he'd set down beside the tub and dried off, deliberately slow, before wrapping it around his waist and pointing to the matching towel still laying by the tub for Cyma. "I'll make sure everything is prepared, so take your time. When you're through, just go ahead and join me out in the common room. I'll let you decide if you want to take your meal there or...elsewhere."
Then with a smile and a wink, he flipped his hair (damn section had come loose again), turned on his heel--and gave an undignified screech and nearly fell on his rear when his foot shot out from under him, having stepped on a patch of water. Thankfully, he regained his balance and continued on his way as if he'd totally meant to do that, though his shoulders were hitched upwards and his face burned with heated embarrassment.
Luckily, his back was to Cyma.
He slipped into the changing room and threw on his robe, hastily tied the sash, and then he was out of the bathing room and heading toward the kitchen.
As he'd anticipated, everything was prepared, save the hot water and milk. Avery requested some, and soon the water was boiled and some milk was laid out in a little bowl, beside all the other foodstuffs on the tray. Avery carried that to the common room and set it down carefully on a table before settling down into a seat, and there he waited for Cyma.
He fought so hard to keep it in until Avery left the room, then he burst into soft laughter. It had been rather amusing to see him slip. Of course had Avery actually fallen, he would have been out of the tub with concern for his well being.
Cyma finished washing himself up, then sat back to relax a little more before getting out. He dries himself off, then wraps the robe around him. His cloths wouldn't really be needed for the rest of the night, though he tucked them into his carrying bag and slung it over his shoulder before scooping up the Furball to head down into the common room.
He could smell the meal before he entered the room and smiled. It would be so nice to eat a meal that he didn't have to personaly hunt for, for once.
"It looks wonderful." He moves to take a seat at the table with Avery.
By the time Cyma returned, Avery had visited the kitchen again and snagged a bottle of wine. It wasn't any of the good stuff and it was half empty anyway, so he didn't think it would be missed. When Cyma settled down in a seat across from him, Avery smiled over the top of his wine glass and then took another sip before setting the glass back down. Tasty stuff, wine.
"Have a nice wash?" he asked, leaning one elbow on the table and propping his chin up on his hand. "I hope you find everything to your liking. If there's anything else I can get you, just say the word." And I hope you know you're being charged for everything you use, he thought, still smiling pleasantly at Cyma.
"Anyway, please, eat up! Unless you prefer taking your meal in privacy." And hurry up, already. I want to sleep.
Blinking, he looked down at his wine glass and then pushed it away. Wine was a relaxant, but for some reason it was just making him grumpy right now. It had been a long day, though, and one full of annoyances, so that was probably it. In any case, he hoped Cyma was the sort that wanted to do the majority of the work tonight, because depending on how bad he was he might be able to sneak in a catnap. He? Cynical about his customer's skills? Never. But perhaps after ten years he had started to stereotype the people that came here, because why else would they visit a brothel if they could attract normal people?
Oh well. He needed the money, and it was good money.
Cyma nodded as he settled the Furball into his lap. He paused for a moment to eye Avery for a moment, almost as though sensing the snarky thoughts in the man's head. Of course he's not going to say anything about it. Instead he started cutting up the meat into small pieces and hand feeding them to the Furball. He took a piece of it every now and then, though the foxling was fed most of it. Cyma then set the foxling aside with the milk and finished up his part of the meal.
He took a few dried leaves from a small glass vial in his pouch and added them to the hot tea, the smell of mint hitting the air right away. Minted tea was nice and soothing, not to mention it could freshen the breath. After all, who'd want to be around somebody with blood breath.
"You seem a little eager to hurry things along." He sipped at his tea as he nibbling on the rest of his meal. He was curious as to why before Avery had finally seemed at ease, where now it was as though he was agitated.
He remembered what Cyma had said about eating raw meat, but it didn't make actually witnessing it any more strange, and Avery stared openly for the first few bites. Raw meat. Raw bloody meat. He finally had to look away and focus on his wine, and after swirling the rosy liquid in the glass for a few moments he just shrugged and tossed the rest back like a shot. Please, please tell him Cyma was going to wash his mouth out before they got down to business, please. Avery liked meat just fine, in fact he loved a good cutlet as much as any other Adelan, but oh Gods he liked it cooked like normal humans cooked it and not raw like how beasts tore into the stuff.
Not to mention the sight of blood made him queasy to begin with. So did the taste. Nothing was worse than accidentally biting down on the inside of your cheek and getting a nice mouthful of it--
Getting off that train of thought now!
He set his wine glass aside and looked up when Cyma set Furball on the ground. Good timing, too, because all the meat was finished by then and Avery picked up on the smell of mint. Ah, the tea. So Cyma was considerate after all, drinking tea and eating the fruit to wrap it up. Palate cleansers, all of them. Good. Avery relaxed a little, no longer haunted by the thought of kissing someone with bloody teeth, and then jumped a little when Cyma spoke.
Was it that obvious?
Avery only flashed him a sly half smile, leaned forward, and nudged Cyma's leg under the table with a bare foot. "Oh, and you're not?" he teased, then snatched an orange wedge from Cyma's plate. "Is it any wonder that I'm eager when I have company such as yourself? And after our time in the bath, too..." He nibbled at the orange, mainly sucking the juice out of it to freshen his breath since he rather hated the texture of oranges themselves. "After that, can you blame me for being a little eager?"
Cyma arched a brow slightly, seeing that Avery has slipped back into the act. Though he decided not to say anything about it right now. After all, it wasn't long now until they moved onto the main events. He was the type of person to enjoy sex all the better after he was cleaned up and fed, that way he could concentrate on better things.
He smiled at his leg being nudged, as he sipped the last little bit of his tea. "Then let's take this somewhere more private." It was a good time to escape, since the Furball had taken off... most likely he'd found himself a pair of breasts to snuggle into... pervy old fox.
Finally! Avery set the dehydrated orange slice aside, stood up, and stretched. "Your wish is my command. Right this way." He held his hand out to Cyma and smiled, silently grateful that all the awkward, obligatory small talk was done and over with. When it came to his regulars he actually enjoyed it; it was nice getting to know them on a more intimate level like that, for sex was hardly intimate to him anymore. But the ones like Cyma who might just be passing through and needing a quick fix, pah.
They didn't really care about the conversation most of the time and it was a little awkward pretending like he did, too.
Avery didn't bother to clean up the meal; someone else would get it. Instead, he waited patiently for Cyma to stand so he could lead him up the steps to his room--and did a quick glance around the place for Cyma's fox. Voyeuristic foxes...
Eugh. The thought still kind of disturbed him.
There would be no voyeuristic foxes this night. I really had only been a joke when he'd mentioned that.
Cyma took Avery's hand as he stood, making sure to take his things with him. After all, he'd be needing them when the night was over. If Avery thought he was going to be getting sleep tonight, he was in for another story. Okay, o it may still be dark once they're done. But this was not going to be some quick fuck. He'd been travelling through the countryside for the past six months and he was darn well going to enjoy this night of indulgence.
It wasn't that he couldn't find somebody to seduce all on his own, he just didn't want the hassle of playing that game tonight. It was far easier, and less of a headache to find a brothel for the night.
Grasping Cyma's hand, Avery lead the other man up the stairs and to the second storey of the building--good, the paintings hadn't been moved--and then down a dimly lit hallway decorated with thick rugs. Candles flicked in intricate wall sconces and the smell of aphrodisiac-laced incense, popular among the establishment, was a bit heavier there. It was only a short walk before they had reached Avery's room, which was closer to the stairs, and he opened the door and ushered Cyma inside before closing the door behind him and locking it.
It was dark inside, but Avery knew his way around his own room. He made his way over to his desk, lit the candles there, and carried one of them with him to light the others. "We can blow them out later if that's what you prefer," he said, walking back over to the desk. Hey, some people were shy like that, brothel or not. After lighting a stick of incense, he returned the candle to its original holder and then crossed the room to go close the curtains.
Avery's room looked out over the city and he liked to leave the curtains open during the day for the light--well, save when he was 'working'--and even at night because the view was rather pretty. Other than that, they were shut. Being a whore didn't negate his need for privacy, and the thought of people watching gave him the heebie jeebies. He wasn't that depraved.
Fixing the curtains so they were properly shut and not all wrinkled and messy, he turned back around to face Cyma and smiled. "Hope you don't mind, my room's a little messy," he said, though it wasn't, really--aside from the desk, which was covered in books and papers and random shiny things, gifts from regulars, that he kept because they were pretty and because he might one day be able to sell them. He headed over toward Cyma, reaching up to feel around and undo all the different little pins in his hair so he could let it down, then stopped a few feet away from the man and gave him a sly smile.
"Payment up front, by the way. And if you're into pain, both giving and receiving, I don't do that."
Once in the room, he took a moment to look around. Tymah didn't need light in order to be able to see. Infact he saw so much better in the dark then he did in the light. It was actually a throw back to his father's race, Tarrin's not being able to see during the sunlight. Most likely an evolutionary change over time, since they lived deep within the earth. He was thankful though that his eyes weren't completely sensative to light, due to his mother being human. So when the room filled up with candle light, it didn't bother him all that much.
"No need to put them all out, only a few." After all, he wasn't that shy, or even modest. In fact, he wouldn't be bothered with going a round with some young thing, in the middle of the day, out in the open in the middle of a forest, or by some lake... maybe even a water fall. Yes. Sex in nature was always awesome. But sometimes the need for a nicec soft bed, and warmth of the indoors won out. Plus not everybody opted for sex outside. Humans and their modesty... such a silly concept.
This was messy? Tymah just chuckled softly when Avery said that. That was rather amusing. If this was the young man's idea of a mess, then he should see a place with kidlets running rampant...... Woah! Where the hell did the idea of kidlets come from? A faint frown came to his lips as he looked down at his tummy. It would seem that he was getting close to finding one of his mates. Though it was a pleasing thought, it was not one that he needed right now. Especially with a tasty morsel like Avery standing here before him all ready to be sexed up.
Speaking of which, he was wondering when the talk of money would come up. He nodded to Avery then set his bag down. He took a moment to locate one of his coin pouches and handed it over to the boy. He might not be sure of just how much this place charged, but there was enough in that pouch to typically pay for a weeks worth.
Cyma was never really worried about the concept of money. Sure he would need it for some things, but most others he could easily get by without spending money on them. He could hunt for food, shape the earth into a shelter should he need it. He owned no property that he needed to pay upkeep and taxes on. It was just him and the Furball. He had more then enough money to last him for a couple human lifetimes, thanks mostly to his involvement during the war a couple hundred years back.
"I do believe that should be enough." The incence was starting to get to him a little bit. It was almost like a universal thing with those who made them, that their scents had to be so strong. He would be more then happy when the smells of arousal and sex filled the air.
Speaking of which, he took his time looking over Avery's body now once again. He most certainly going to enjoy driving this being into pleasure and tasting him.
Avery took the offered pouch and turned away from Cyma to face his desk, peering into the purse and counting out the coins. It would be rude to do it in front of Cyma, but he wanted to make sure he had the correct amount--which he did. And then some.
His eyes widened and he gave a quick glance over his shoulder at Cyma. Er. That was way more than the nightly fee. Did he want the difference, was he giving him the whole thing, or...was he buying him for a week or what? Blinking a few times, he looked back at the pouch, cleared his throat, and then slipped it into one of his desk drawers, along with the pins he'd removed from his hair, and turned back to face Cyma. Ahem. He'd just take it for now. If Cyma had something else in mind, he'd correct him, Avery imagined, but Avery sure as hell wasn't going to complain or tip him off that he was paying too much.
"Oh, that was plenty, thank you," he said, grinning in earnest now and reaching up to undo the tie that held his hair in a loose ponytail. If Cyma was seriously paying him a week's worth for one night, then by the Old Ones he would show the man one hell of a night because right now he kind of loved him. Shallowly and for his money, but he loved him nonetheless. Even if the guy was awful, he might not even have to fake it--money was, ultimately, his biggest turn on nowadays.
Of course, if it turned out that Cyma wanted his change or had paid for a week...Avery wouldn't be quite so thrilled.
He tugged the tie free and dropped it to the floor, dark hair tumbling around his shoulders and down his back, and he stepped right up to Cyma and looped his arms around the man's neck. His hands tangled in Cyma's hair at his nape, holding him in place as he closed the gap between them until they were chest to chest with only their robes separating them. "Mm...I think that's quite enough business talk for now," Avery murmured, and pressed a kiss to the side of Cyma's neck, then another on his jaw. "We should move onto more interesting subjects, don't you think?"
Like money! A week's worth! A WEEK!
He quickly kicked the thought out of his head before he started to grin like some crazy idiot when he was supposed to be looking seductive, even though right now he wanted nothing more than to dash over to his desk and count out the exact amount. That had to wait, though, ugh, so it was best not to think and agonize over it. Besides, if he kept on like that this whole encounter would be over before it started and he wasn't paid to look pretty, he was paid to please.
(I totally just noticed that I put Tymah instead of Cyma in my last post *shakes head and pretends to fix it*)
~Time Skip!!! They smexed! It was great! That's all you need to know!~
Cyma woke up a bit before dawn, stretching with a happy mewl. He always felt so damned good after a night of good sex, and last night had been great. The way Avery had reacted last night, he was certain that the young man wasn't at all use to being on the recieving end of pleasure. Poor guy. He madee sure to change that last night. Cyma was going to remember last night for a long time.
He glanced back at Avery and wondered how long it would be before the man woke up.
It was a few more hours before Avery, who usually woke at dawn, stirred. He usually didn't sleep so late, but after last night...
Well, he could have slept a lot later, but his inner clock wouldn't let him.
With a soft groan, he cracked his eyes open and squinted against the light. It wasn't too bright since his curtains were closed, but compared to the pitch black of sleep, it was a little painful. He reached up and rubbed the sleep out his eyes, yawned, stretched--and winced when he moved to sit up. Erk. Ow. Sore.
He'd admit it had been a while since he'd had to, ah, bend that way. And Cyma had not been satisfied with just one round, so there went his sleep. It hadn't been bad, though, and Avery hadn't had to fake a thing, so props to Cyma for that. It had been fun, he'd gotten a good chunk of coin--but oh gods was he going to be out of business for a good day or so now. No matter what precautions were taken, there was still only so much his body could take--and that was not an issue that Elon could help him with, nor one he'd let her help with even if she could.
Oh right, speaking of his patron...
Avery glanced over to his right at Cyma and eyed him, eyes squinted and bleary, hair disheveled (he was not looking forward to grooming it), with dark circles under his eyes. Huh. A lot of the time they left when they were through, and Avery preferred it that way. Last night (or this morning, who knows) Avery had passed out as soon as it was over and couldn't have cared less what Cyma did after.
Now, he felt a little annoyed to find him still there--mainly because he knew he probably looked dreadful, and because he wanted some time to himself that his job was fulfilled. There was always a lot of distance between the client and himself, and Avery liked it that way.
He didn't let any of that show on his face, though. The only thing that showed was exhaustion. Sitting up in bed, sore muscles protesting, he pushed strands of tangled hair out of his face and cracked a weary smile. "Good morning," he said, and covered his mouth to yawn. Then he grimaced. Blech, his breath was rank. Oh, forget his breath, he felt gross and filthy all over, sticky and smelly, he was sure. "Ugh...I need a bath."
This was awkward, which was strange considering what they had done. But he never knew what to say after the fact. Pillow talk and sweet nothings just weren't his strong point. He could fake a lot of things, but that wasn't one of them.
Cyma was in the process of getting dressed. He'd stuck around a little longer then he originally planned on. It didn't really matter though, since he had his dark tinted glasses with him, so that the daylight wouldn't bother him as badly. He'd go back to where he'd left his other things within the hollowed out space he'd made deep underground.
He was planning out what he had to do before sleeping the rest of the day away when Avery woke up. He was deffinately going to have to stop by this brothel again before he left town. "Good morning. I hope I didn't wake you."
He was currently fastening all the belts and straps for the different weapon holsters he had, those which were visable and those that weren't. Cyma mostly carried smaller weapons such as daggers and smoke bombs. Anything that was easily concealable. He never ventured anywhere without being armed. Years of war had driven this habit into him, then the added years of living in the wild reinforced it to the point there was no turning away from it.
"Mm, no. I wake up around this time anyway," Avery said with a smile, watching Cyma dress. Why are you still here? Annoying. Now he had to wait for him to leave and keep playing the part of the host before he could have his 'me' time for the rest of the day and be as selfish as he wanted. How he loved his 'me' time. Maybe he'd head out into town if he could walk without waddling, dammit--but it was worth it for the money. No regrets. He'd do it again for the same sum and--
Holy mother of...
He had a lot of weapons.
Why hadn't he seen all those yesterday?
Avery stared openly, suddenly feel a little uncomfortable. Sure he practiced swordplay for recreation, but it was a fake sword; he never dealt with real weapons and didn't want to. A man that carried that much on them, though? They didn't do that unless they knew how to use them--and had a need to use them.
What kind of man had he just slept with? A criminal? An assassin?
He kept his mouth shut and averted his eyes.
"Well, uh...I had a great night," he said, filling in the awkward silence with the same empty words he told every client. "I hope I pleased you."
By the time Cyma finished placing his weapons in their rightful spots, a person couldn't tell that he was carrying any of them. He could tell that the younger man suddenly became uneasy when he saw the weapons he had.
Cyma couldn't help but laugh. "Whatever you're thinking about why I carry all of these was probably true at some point during my life." He slipped his bag back over his shoulder. "However I've calmed my ways from my younger years, and am only a bounty hunter now."
He paused and frowned when he heard those empty words leave Avery's lips. "I thought I had asked you not to say things that you didn't mean." He moved over to sit on the edge of the bed and take Avery's face in both his hands. He leaned in to kiss the younger man, not really caring too much about morning breath at the moment, though his own had a minty freshness to it. Ah the wonders of mint leaves.
Yiiiikes.
No, Avery, don't think too hard on it. It wasn't his place to ask about a client's life or know their history--unless it was potentially dangerous to him or someone else. Bounty hunter, huh? Avery opened his mouth to ask what exactly that was, if he hunted humans or animals, but Cyma sat down on the edge of the bed and kissed him, and Avery kissed him back out of reflex. It was an automatic response at this point, full of passion but no less habitual. He gripped onto Cyma's shoulders and pulled him closer as he slipped his tongue into the other man's mouth. Give him a little something to remember him by and hope he came back for another round, because damn he paid good.
Sure helped that his breath didn't reek.
And he wasn't bad in bed, either. He was sore, sure, but it had been enjoyable. He couldn't say that for all of his clients, and he sure couldn't say that any of them paid like he did--well above his running fee.
He broke the kiss and gave him a sly smile. "What didn't I mean? I do hope you had a good time."
Cyma grinned and licked his lips after the kiss. He would definately remember to come back and see Avery again.
He lifted a hand to lightly pat Avery's cheek, "Empty words, Dove." He was certain that the other would know what he meant.
With another little kiss on the cheek, Cyma then rose from the bed and finished gathering his stuff. "I'm going to be in town for about a week, so you'll probably see me another night or two before then." Cyma wasn't cruel enough to keep coming back night after night. Avery did need some down time to recover after all.
"Now I should go find that damned Furball." He shook his head, then grinned back at Avery. "Take care of yourself, Dove."