Rated: M—for language and innuendo
Genre: Humor
Pairing: Quil, OC, Jake
Word Count: 479
Prompt: "You're a bad idea but I like bad ideas."
A/N: I haven't drabbled in a while but this prompt inspired me. So, thanks for the prompt, chamsp! And thank you, jarms, for your not-so-subtle push to write again, as well as your listening ear. We should have RL visits more often. ;-) Love ya. 3
"Back again? You're insatiable, you know that?"
Quil shrugged, a flush prickling the back of his neck in a languid crawl. Opening his wallet, he counted out a few remaining bills and handed them over. So what if she judged? It was worth it. Every last penny—his hard-earned cash from hours toiling in the garage—was worth it.
"Don't be embarrassed, hon. I like my men that way." With a coy wink, she took the money from his hand, allowing her fingers to brush against his with lingering implication.
Jaw set, he ignored her teasing words and the nagging churn of his stomach. Claire's face flashed before him, a look of angry disapproval etched into her features. He swallowed, shaking the image from his head. Later, there would be consequences, but for now, he was firmly rooted in the moment.
In his hunger.
His precious purchase spread before him, he traced a calloused finger down a smooth, plump curve. Tender, dark flesh acquiesced under gentle pressure.
"Yep. You're a bad idea." His crooked smile stretched the corners of his mouth. "But I like bad ideas."
Lips puckered in an "O," he blew, cool breath mingling with the searing heat of skin. The action released a divine odor—a delicious scent that saturated the air and triggered a warm rush of saliva. Licking his lips, he breathed it in with a slow inhale. "Just wait 'til I get you in my mouth."
He allowed himself just a tiny taste, the rich flavor rolling over his tongue like sweet torture. Sighing, he closed his eyes, savoring the moment while doing his best to ignore the persistent flip-flops in his belly. Try as he might, Claire's disappointed figure continued to dance in the forefront of his mind.
"Am I interrupting something?"
Quil sucked in his breath, the familiar voice freezing him in place. "Jake?"
"Tsk, tsk, tsk." The alpha shook his head. "Never knew you were the sneaking around type, Ateara."
"I- I'm not sneaking around. I just—"
"Why are you doing this to Claire again? After everything you put her through last year …"
"She won't find out unless you tell her."
"Dude, I don't need to tell her anything. She's gonna smell it all over you when you get home. She's not stupid."
Quil sighed. "Look, I didn't mean for this to happen, I just—"
"You just couldn't resist. I get it. Don't think I could resist such a fine-looking specimen myself." Jake peered around his friend's massive frame, ignoring his futile attempt to block the view. "Funny, I woudda pegged you a breast man, myself."
"Fuck off."
Laughing, Jake pulled up a chair. "You can't beat 'em, join 'em. Right? Ren Fest only comes once a year, indigestion be damned." He slapped Quil on the shoulder. "You gonna make love to that turkey leg or you gonna eat it?"
A/N: I've actually never been to a Ren Fest, but I hear the turkey legs are something to behold. ;-)