Chapter 291 - 289: Try To Eat You.

Chapter 291: Chapter 289: Try To Eat You.

Oh, Khobi does not like his tone.

​"Hey Rogard," he heaves back, glaring across the table with suspicion.

Rogard takes a long sip of water, then levels him with a look of politely interest.

​"...Did you have a good night?" He inquires curiously. It feels oddly loaded, and Khobi finds himself feeling wary.

​"I did," he replies; his answer both true and intentionally cagey.

​"That’s good," Rogard says casually. Too casually. "...Did you happen to meet anyone...interesting?"

​"Oh come on, out with it, Rogard," Gandy complains, elbowing him for playing petty and whipping around to give Khobi a sage look, "We wanna know: did you hook up with that guy or not?"

​Khobi almost chokes on his mouthful.

Because there’s no way they know, right?

​Absolutely no fucking way.

​"What guy?" He splutters on automatic, ears suddenly feeling way too warm. He immediately gets elbowed for playing coy, which he kind of is, but not for the reasons they’re expecting.

​"Come on Khobi, you know the one," Montrel grinds out, rolling his eyes, "The guy who was buying you drinks all night?" Well, that could mean anyone, right? Everyone was buying Khobi drinks. "He asked you up to his room, remember??"

​Oh, right.

​Khobi had forgotten about that. And his confusion must be evident now, because now there are confused looks being passed around the table, and he does not like it.

​"Wait, you seriously didn’t?" Rogard frowns, as if this is not where he thought this line of questioning was going.

​"I didn’t," Khobi assures him flatly.

​In hindsight, it was probably the wrong answer, because Rogard’s eyes suddenly gleam.

​"...So then what’s with the hickies?"

​Fuck.

​Khobi has about two seconds flat to decide which way he’s going to play this. And dumb has always worked for him, so that’s the direction he chooses.

​"Dunno what you’re talking about."

​It’s the wrong direction, because no sooner are the words out of his mouth than he is being manhandling; hands on him faster than Khobi’s ever given them credit for.

One pair hold him steady and another goes straight for his collar; yanking it down far enough to expose the dark marks that Rogard’s keen eyes have picked up despite Khobi’s best efforts to keep them away from prying eyes.

A chorus of wolf whistles goes up, and Khobi immediately gets smacked around and jostled from all sides for trying to play coy. It does terrible things to his still barely-recovered brain.

​"You dog," Montrel hoots, grinning maniacally even as Khobi tries to bury himself deeper into his shirt before any of the neighboring tables catch wind.

"So, who was he, then?"

​Gandy must see the denial starting to form on Khobi’s lips because he immediately talks over him with the same tone he uses when Rogard starts trying to tell them all he isn’t at all sneaking around with someone down in the city.

​"Don’t say no one when there there was clearly someone –"

​"There was no one," Khobi grinds out anyway, even though it’s bitten into his skin clear as day that there definitely, totally was.

​He should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it, because for all his protests they immediately start bickering amongst themselves as they try to figure out just who he snuck off with, and when.

That last bit is what they get stuck on; puzzled, because he was with them the whole night, right up until the end.

​And that’s when the silence descends.

​It’s just shy of excruciating, and Khobi knows the instant he looks up from his food to find them all staring at him, that they’ve pieced it together.

​Because yes, sure, they all left together, but they went on ahead.

​Khobi wasn’t with them at the end.

​He was with someone else.

​"No," Montrel breathes, at the same time as Rogard whispers, scandalised, "Khobi, you didn’t."

​Well, he’s done for.

​The end hurtling towards him, Khobi makes one last ditch attempt to save himself.

​"I didn’t."

​Didn’t what, is what he should have said. But that’s hindsight.

Rogard’s eyes immediately bug comically wide, and all the colour that had returned to Montrel’s face during the course of dinner drains away again.

​"You did," Rogard accuses, face splitting into a wicked, shit-eating grin as Khobi’s goes in precisely the opposite direction.

​"Ahhh he so did," Gandy snickers, shaking his head incredulously, "...He seriously fucked Loac."

​This time Khobi really does choke.

​"What the –we did not fuck," Khobi croaks weakly, splattering as his stew tries to make a detour down his windpipe.

​"Fine, you made love, whatever you want to call it, Khobi," Rogard breezes, and if Khobi’s face wasn’t already redder than his hair, that would’ve fucking done it, because what the actual fuck.

​"Ugh, don’t be gross, Rogard!"

​"And here I thought you were saving yourself for marriage."

​(Rich, coming from Rogard.)

​"It’s not like that!" Every protest comes out sounding just that little bit weaker.

​(He could kill them. He could kill them both right dead.)

​(It wouldn’t take back the words, but at least then there would be some sort of justice in this world.)

​"Right, you got these hickies from snuggling," Gandy snorts, tugging on Khobi’s collar again to better inspect the marks there.

Unfortunately for Khobi, his reflexes are as hungover as he is and he doesn’t quite manage to slap him away in time. "Gods, what’d he do, try to eat you?"

It’s probably not what Gandy meant, but Khobi’s mind immediately goes somewhere else; somewhere a whole lot filthier, and he has to stop that thought dead in its tracks before it finds purchase.

Because he certainly does not want to be thinking about Loac eating him out, right?

​Right?

​Why is it suddenly so goddamned warm in here?

​"Aw c’mon Khobi, it’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about," Gandy assures him, slinging an arm around him and thankfully misunderstanding the redness in Khobi’s face, "You’re hardly the first person to get drunk and hook up with someone they don’t like, ain’t that right, Montrel?"

​Montrel does not look pleased to have had his unfortunate romantic history being dredged up again so soon.

​"Hey, don’t bring me into this –" he groans, clearly too hungover to even humour him. Khobi can relate.