A/N Something completely random that came from something that got mentioned one day in a Gateworld forum that sort of spawned off into this. It was fun to write so I decided to share.
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The room is dark and dingy, drunken people scattered around slouched on tables and stools. A half filled glass is in front of you that you've been nursing for heaven knows how long. You look up; he's sat on the other side of the bar, scruffy and unshaven, turning his glass over and over staring at the scratched surface as though it holds the answers to his soul.
Even in the dim light you can make out the flecks of silver against his tanned skin peaking through the open neck of his crumpled shirt. He looks like he hasn't slept in days, his body almost slumped over giving you a deeper look down his shirt. His hair sticking out at odd angles screams to be touched, urges fingers to slide through its wildness.
He shifts in his chair, a faint nod to the bartender before the seedy looking man blocks your view with his skinny body. Looking down to your glass you know the moment the bartender moves and you can't help but look again.
His face is rugged but handsome, brief hints of the young man he was now hidden beneath day old stubble and wearisome eyes. Your fingers itch, longing to feel the scratch of the stubble on your fingertips.
He suddenly looks up from the glass capturing your eyes. His dark eyes stare at you, their hot gaze burning through you until you can't take anymore and look away to your drink. You can still feel his eyes wandering over you the heat flushing your skin. A part of you dares to look up catching his eyes again. They are darker now, speaking of every wicked thing he wants to do and even through the haze of the amber liquid you know yours are the same.
His tongue darts out across his lips for a fraction of a second but in that moment you imagine every sinful thing you want that mouth to do, every wild moment that tongue could make. Your grip tightens on the glass as you force yourself still even when your body is throbbing with desire.
But he stands tossing a few crumpled notes onto the bar before turning and heading for the door. His walk is slow, his body moving like a panther hunting his prey. As he reached the door he turns looking back at you the side of his mouth twitching into a smirk but he continues on disappearing into the darkness. You decide you most certainly wouldn't mind being hunted by him.