Pick-up lines

Posted on 06 Jan 2015 @ 11:01pm by Lieutenant Oren Idris Ph.D.

3,564 words; about a 18 minute read

Mission: Episode 07 - Sojourn
Location: Starbase 84, Bar/Arboretum
Timeline: MD23 - 2300hrs

[ON]

It was strange to consider a place with no actual day and night to have a nightlife, but the lower decks of Starbase 84 would definitely prove anyone wrong in a heartbeat. The minute Oren made his way down several decks, he could already feel the music through the bulkheads and his bones as he got closer and closer.

It wasn't the kind of place Oren had imagined to find himself in again after so many years but staying in his new temporary quarters or the Galileo wasn't an option anymore. The isolation was beginning to feel stifling and the walls felt as if they were closing in on him, driving him to do stupid things. At least this way, his stupid things were limited and at least he would be around other people, shady as the club scene was out here in the middle of nowhere.

Getting through the door was easy enough with his fake ID. For all intents and purposes, Oren was a nineteen year old Human for the night and that in itself felt freeing. He didn't have to have all the answers to his problems tonight. He could just let go and pretend to be someone else for a while, maybe even kill some time with someone who didn't know him. For all of his need for isolation and independence from friends and what little family he had, Oren felt lonely sitting by himself. Not to mention he felt as if he was one more night away from a full on panic attack.

Dressed in faded clothes so he wouldn't stand out, Tyrion sat hunched over at the bar, nursing his whiskey. Alcohol, he discovered, numbed his telepathic sense a little, which was just as well. He was in no mind to listen in on people who couldn't control their thoughts. Even if he never consciously listen in, accidents did happen. He already had a drink or two before now, but there was always room for more.

He had been alone for several days, avoiding everyone at all cost. Even his roommate Pieter, he had avoided. He just couldn't bear the shame of facing him, now that he lost his commission, and probably lost the trust of everyone he'd worked with so far. It was demeaning and degrading, to be stripped of your rank, demoted quite a few pay grades and then be expected to do your duty anyway.

And then there was the guilt, that ever present, never going away guilt. He had killed the man he loved. He had killed, that's what it came down to and it made him resolve to one thing: he'd not touch weapons again. Never. If he could keep that resolve, he didn't know, but for now he was doing well enough on it. So, here he was, a disgraced intelligence officer, without any weapons on him.

He noticed the young man from the corner of his eyes as he sipped his drink, but otherwise ignored him.

He made his way through the crowd slowly, making as much eye contact as possible. In all, Oren felt slightly unaware of himself and simply sought to enjoy the attention. Turning down a rather bold offer from what looked like a Human girl, Oren flashed her a smile over his shoulder before reaching the bar. He gave the man there a quick glance before raising his hand to get the bartender's attention. If that made his black shirt rise up teasingly to show off a small stripe of pale skin, it was totally unintentional. Who were these people to judge him anyway?

"The Rum sucks," Tyrion murmured absently as he sipped the emerald drink in his glass, "if you're into that, I mean." Black eyes searched the newcomer, taking him in crown to toes. He was handsome for sure, if not a little young looking. "But the whiskey's good." He signaled the barkeeper and motioned to himself and then to the newcomer before tapping his drink. He didn't offer to buy it but the signal was message enough. THe drink was on him.

Oren raised an eyebrow at the other man, looking him over in much the same way as the stranger did to him. Looking down at the whiskey as the bartender placed in front of him, Oren shot the stranger a smile that only slightly bordered on flirtation.

"Thank you," he said, sitting down on the barstool in one graceful movement. His body facing the stranger, Oren took a tiny sip of the alcohol. He was right, the whiskey was quite decent for a place like the one they were in.

"I'm Oren," he introduced himself. He'd never been good at thinking up names on the spot and knew that a half-truth was always better than a total lie.

"Tyrion," the other man replied without further introduction. "It's always better to drink in company, than alone," he added, "for various reasons. What brings you to this backwater place?"

"I just wanted to get away from people I know. That probably makes me sound bad, but sometimes you just need a break, you know?" Oren explained, taking another drink from his glass.

"Oh trust me, I know," Tyrion replied darkly, "I feel the same, I just had to get away for a bit. What's your story?"

"Nothing to write home about. Just had to go through some things that made me question if I am who I think I am," Oren paused. "Sorry, that was too deep for a bar conversation with a handsome stranger."

Tyrion smiled slightly. "Speak for yourself," he murmured, taking a sip from his whiskey. "I had some stuff happen to me too. Jail time, stripped of my commission. I don't feel I have a place anywhere right now. Alienated from my family, and I think I pretty much only have one friend."

"Well, one real friend is all a person really needs sometimes," Oren said wisely. "I don't usually stick around places for long enough to make real friends," he explained, taking a longer drink of his whiskey only to find the glass empty.

"Another round, please," Oren told the bartender and motioned to himself an Tyrion.

"Thank you. Except a man needs company and my friend is not exactly company material. He's more a ladies man I think...." He tipped the remainder of his first drink back and set the now empty glass back on the counter to be replaced with a new drink.

"That's a shame," Oren said, crossing his legs as he nursed his drink. "Guy as cute as you needs someone to keep him company." 'What am I doing?' Oren heard himself wonder in the back of his mind. This wasn't what he'd planned on doing when he came out that evening. Getting involved with strangers like this was dangerous, and behind him. It had been several decades now since he'd resolved to just give up on that aspect of his life. It was useless.

'What if it isn't?' Oren wondered briefly. Maybe he'd been mistaken all those years ago. Maybe he should have relied more on his feelings and less on what he knew was logically good for him. Maybe he wouldn't be such a mess right now if that had been the case?

Tyrion simply nodded, though he blushed slightly at the compliment. "I don't consider myself to be cute," he murmured around his glass. "But have you looked in a mirror lately?" The Betazoid turned slightly, settling his black eyes on the young man next to him. "How come you are not settled somewhere with someone to keep you company? Your priorly explained reasons aside, I mean." He tipped his glass back, emptying his drink in one gulp.

Oren considered his options as he tried not to let the surprise show on his face when realising his companion was a Betazoid. Though his eyes seemed a little lazy, Oren couldn't help but wonder how much of a read he could get on him.

"I guess you could say I don't know anyone in my life who I'd like to keep me company." It was the most neutral answer he could think of.

"Then perhaps you haven't met the right person yet." The Betazoid set his empty glass back down on the counter and turned further to face his companion. "Though I wonder why a handsome young man such as yourself doesn't have any suitors lining up." He reached out, brushing his fingers along Oren's cheek in a bold move. "Do you want another drink, or would you like to get out of here?"

Oren couldn't help but smirk despite his surprise. "My, my, Tyrion. You don't waste any time, do you?"

"Waste time?" Tyrion shook his head. "Why stay here if there's better places to go. Unless you want another drink of course." He smiled now, showing two perfect rows of white teeth, even though his smile was slightly lopsided.

"No," Oren said candidly, shaking his head once. "You've intrigued me." With that, the El-Aurian hopped off the barstool. "I have the perfect place."

---

The Arboretum on the base looked almost deserted when the two men arrived. The lights that were strategically placed around the room were dim and the animated ceiling had changed from the daytime sun and clouds into a dreary copy of the night's sky.

Upon closer inspection, Oren noticed that there were a few people there, couples mostly, taking advantage of the relative privacy the dim lights provided.

Tyrion reveled in the basic silence, compared to the noise from the bar. Though now he was more aware of his handsome companion that he had been before, from a mental point of view. He drifted closer to the man as they walked, his fingers brushing against Oren's, but not taking his hand. "Do you smell the pines?" he asked quietly, nodding over to a cluster of pine trees close by. "Lovely, isn't it?"

Oren hummed gently in agreement, not hesitating in responding to the brush of Tyrion's fingers by taking his hand. He swung their entwined hands playfully between them all the while glancing at the Betazoid from beneath his eyelashes.

"I think it's romantic," he declared, hopping onto the curb of the paved path they were walking on. He put one foot in front of the other on the rocks beneath his feet, continuing to hold Tyrion's hand for balance.

"So do I," Tyrion murmured, trying to steady his companion but feeling a little unsteady on his feet. He gave the hand holding his a careful tug, drawing the El-Aurian to him. "And I am enjoying the view for sure," he added covertly. "Shall we sit down?" He nodded over to the cluster of trees. "It looks private enough."

Oren agreed, stepping back onto the path and following his new friend. "Are we going to need privacy?" he asked, curious to hear his blushing Betazoid's answer to such a direct question.

"Perhaps...I'd rather have privacy and not need it, than the other way around, wouldn't you?" Tyrion smiled as he drew Oren over to the trees and pulled him down.

"Smart," Oren said, letting Tyrion drag him down until they were both laying on the grass. Staring up at the stars on the pseudo-sky, Oren couldn't help but feel a little tense from the flirtatious exchange with Tyrion and proceeded to stretch. As he felt his shirt rise slightly to reveal his stomach, he realised it would probably be taken as much more suggestive than his intention. He was more surprised by the fact that he didn't mind. Tyrion seemed sweet and was proving himself to be a very good distraction. Oren hadn't thought of his problems once.

In a bold move, Tyrion placed his hand on the bared skin, idly brushing his fingers over it, then let two fingers wander under the fabric. "I'm glad you think so," he murmured, shifting so he lay on his side. "Relax..." he suggested, still carressing the bared skin, "you're so tense..."

The muscles of Oren's abdomen contracted, becoming barely visible under the soft skin (and Tyrion's hand) for just a moment before relaxing again. His mouth slightly open in surprise at the action, Oren looked up at Tyrion, meeting his eyes. There was something terribly compelling there, almost innocent despite the boldness of Tyrion's actions. Oren couldn't help but be fascinated by it.

He also found it slightly exhilarating, the way Tyrion's attention was focused on him while Oren felt completely in control of himself, even if Tyrion didn't seem like he could tell. Alcohol really did have its perks. And Oren did always love putting on a show.

He licked his lips slowly but deliberately, letting his eyes glance down at Tyrion's lips briefly before returning to his eyes. Not wanting to say anything for fear of breaking the tension, the El-Aurian simply placed his hand on Tyrion's, pressing it gently so that it completely settled on his navel and waited.

Holding his breath for a moment, Tyrion watched him intently, but made no attempt to read him. The single glance was enough and, leaning forward and putting ever so little pressure on the hand that was lying on Oren's stomach, he brushed his lips against Oren's in a chaste kiss. Only then, did he expell the breath he'd been holding and pulled back, expression intense as he waited.

The corner of Oren's lips twitched into a half-smile at the kiss when the Betazoid pulled away. 'Oh you are definitely something else,' he mused, running his eyes over Tyrion's face. It had to have been the softest, most innocent kiss he'd ever received from a Betazoid, but somehow he couldn't help but be affected in some strange, otherworldly way.

Not removing his hand from Tyrion's, Oren slowly pushed himself up from the grass until he was sure his companion could feel his breath on his lips. Keeping up the eye contact, Oren only gave Tyrion a moment of opportunity to pull away before pressing their lips together again.

This time the kiss was deeper and Oren reached up with his free hand put his arm around Tyrion's wide shoulders before slowly guiding them both down onto the grass again.

Though there was alcohol on his breath, Tyrion didn't pull away from the kiss or the embrace. Instead, he leaned into it, leaning over the El-Aurian, parting his lips ever so slightly as he maintained the kiss. He let his hand slide further underneath the fabric of the other man's shirt, sliding sideways across his ribs, baring even more skin.

Letting out a small sigh through his nose, Oren took the invitation to brush his tongue against Tyrion's lips. This definitely hadn't been on Oren's schedule for the night, but it felt nice to be close to someone like this.

Startled at the response, Tyrion pulled back and openly stared at him for a moment. "I've...I've never done this before," he blurted out, leaning down to rest his head against Oren's shoulder. "I don't know how to do this."

Oren should feel shocked, he just knew it. But, somehow, he wasn't. Suddenly, the tentative touches, soft kisses and furtive looks seemed to make sense. The feeling Tyrion's admission caused was simply a mix of mild surprise and intrigue. Most Betazoid were infamous for anonymous (or partially anonymous, in this case) encounters so it wasn't often that you could run across one that wasn't, especially in a shady bar.

Instead, he slid his hand over Tyrion's shoulder and into his hair. It felt soft between his fingers and was just the right length for Oren's taste.

"Do you want to stop?" he whispered, leaning his own face down towards Tyrion's head.

Slowly, Tyrion shook his head. "No, I don't. But I don't know what else to do..." He hesitated, sighing softly as he felt Oren's fingers rake through his hair. The man's body was warm against his own and yet he shivered. "Can you show me?"

The hand in Tyrion's hair halted as Oren thought about his next move. Was this smart? What if his sweet, innocent act was just that? An act? It wouldn't be the first time a Betazoid was playing coy, asking their partner to show them the way, to be gentle. Hell, there were book written about this sort of thing, though Oren would never admit to reading it. But, despite his better judgment, he still felt confident in his ability to remain in control.

"I'd love to." Oren leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Tyrion's hair. "But not here. We should go to my quarters." He didn't make an attempt to move, content to lay there for the moment with Tyrion half on top of him.

"In a minute," the Betazoid murmured, enjoying the soft touches and caresses. After a few seconds, he carefully sat up and pulled Oren up with him. He pulled his hand back, then crawled up on his feet, holding out a hand so Oren could use it as leverage to get back up too. "I should probably tell you that, while I'm a telepath, I don't read people. I don't want to, I don't like the gift I have and I avoid it as much as I can. Even so...I apologize in advance if through some error, I do read you. I don't mean to in that event." He drew the man closer, experimenting with the soft kiss again, his breath coming in slow gasps as if he was trying to control his breathing.

Oren smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Tyrion's waist and melting into it. As the Betazoid caught his breath, Oren kissed the corner of his lips. "Relax," he whispered, endlessly amused by Tyrion's obvious awkwardness now that he didn't seem to have anything to hide.

"Don't worry about reading me. I'll make sure your mind is kept busy," Oren teased before taking his hand and leading him out of the Arboretum and towards the turbolift. Giving it the proper deck, Oren slowly pushed Tyrion against the wall of the lift and stepped close enough to him that their fronts brushed together. "Breathe through your nose," he whispered before capturing his lips again in a kiss that was deeper than the ones that they'd shared previously.

Feeling the cool wall of the turbolift against his back, and Oren's warm body against his chest, Tyrion found himself actually holding his breath once more. His arms slid around the other man's torso, fingers snaking into his hair. He parted his lips again, feeling Oren's tongue starting to explore his mouth. Carefully, he started to return the kiss, feeling his heart hammer against the inside of his ribcage. "I'm trying," he breathed, "but you're leaving me without breath. Don't stop though...I'm rather enjoying this. Please don't stop. Is it far to your quarters?"

As if on cue, the doors hissed open and Oren grinned. Pressing one more kiss to Tyrion's lips, he grabbed his hand and led him out into the corridor where, two doors down, they reached Oren's temporary room. Quickly, he tapped in the access code and led Tyrion inside.

The room was smaller than Oren's quarters on the Galileo, but it was comfortable and it was clean, which was all he cared about. Once the door was locked behind them and the two were left alone, Oren stood close to Tyrion again, putting his hands on the taller man's hips.

"Do you want a drink first?" he asked, though his tone indicated clearly that he was asking purely out of politeness.

Slowly, Tyrion shook his head, casting him a goofy grin. "No, I think I've had enough drinks for now, don't you?" He snaked his arms around Oren's waist again, drawing him closer. "What else do you have in mind?" he asked, leaning over to nuzzle his cheek affectionately. Yes, alcohol definitely removed several inhibitions, Tyrion mused as he took in the El-Aurian's scent. He snaked his hands under his shirt again, running them over his bare back. "Can I take it off?" he asked slowly, not quite sure if this was even good form to ask, or just not done. This was all new to him.

"Anything you want," Oren replied, to both questions before raising his arms to allow Tyrion to slip his shirt off. The result was a very fluffy-haired El-Aurian boy as Oren ran a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to fix it at least a bit.

Giving up, he flashed Tyrion a playful grin before nipping at his chin gently and then kissing his way down the sensitive skin on his neck, towards his collarbone.

"I want everything, all of it," Tyrion groaned, burying his face against Oren's neck. "Any thing you have to offer and I have anything you want to give in return."

Oren bit his lips before burying his hand in Tyrion's hair to pull him away and look into his eyes. "Then it's a good thing we have all night," he whispered against his lips before kissing him once again.

[OFF]

Oren Idris, Ph.D.
Archaeologist/Anthropologist
USS Galileo

Chief Petty Officer Tyrion Faye
Intelligence Officer
USS Galileo
[PNPC T'Vanna]

 

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