The crowd pulses to the beat of the loud, pounding music, all rolling hips and outstretched arms - an invitation to sin.
"This cannot be sanitary," Rodney grumbles to himself, and then yelps and glares at the smirking man in a golden bow tie who's not wearing much more than glitter and mouthing, Nice. Rodney's hand hovers protectively close to his own ass the entire way over to the bar, and he still gets groped very thoroughly at least twice.
He shouts his order at the bartender, and gets a watered down beer he didn't want for his efforts. He sips at it anyway, because bad alcohol is better than no alcohol at all.
"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine," someone says against his ear.
Rodney loses half of his beer to the floor. "Jesus Christ!" When he turns around, gearing up to really rip a new asshole into whatever jerk thinks he's entertainment, he catches sight of dark, tousled hair and sharp lines and abruptly can't remember what he was about to say.
"Um," he offers intelligently.
The man's hips shift, cocking out suggestively; Rodney swallows and tries to keep his eyes fixed on the man's sharp-toothed grin and laughing eyes. Noticing Rodney's scrutiny, the guy arches an eyebrow. "You lookin' for a ride?"
Rodney's mouth works for a moment, soundless. "Did you actually just say that to me? Does that work?"
The man throws back his head and laughs, a braying sound that's completely at odds with his put-together outfit and easy charm. Rodney finds himself leaning forward, smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"I'm John," the man grins, holding out his hand. Rodney takes it.
-
"John, oh god," Rodney gasps.
That same lazy grin, a sharp nip of teeth at his hip that has Rodney arching and cursing John's family back ten generations. John just happily laps at the blooming bruise low on Rodney's stomach, his chin bumping the wet tip of Rodney's cock with maddening regularity.
"I - fuck, I didn't ask for it slow," Rodney points out breathlessly. "Shouldn't...you cater to the paying customer?"
John's hands slide up the insides of his thighs, pushing them apart and coaxing Rodney into bending his knees. "Hmmm," John hums, perilously close to the base of Rodney's cock. "Think you like this more'n your letting on, Rodney." As if to prove his point, he licks a slow stripe up the underside, pausing to tease at the sensitive spot right under the ridge for a long moment.
"Oh my god yes," Rodney manages, holding onto John's broad shoulders with both hands.
John chuckles, adding a hint of teeth. "You're fun."
no subject
"This cannot be sanitary," Rodney grumbles to himself, and then yelps and glares at the smirking man in a golden bow tie who's not wearing much more than glitter and mouthing, Nice. Rodney's hand hovers protectively close to his own ass the entire way over to the bar, and he still gets groped very thoroughly at least twice.
He shouts his order at the bartender, and gets a watered down beer he didn't want for his efforts. He sips at it anyway, because bad alcohol is better than no alcohol at all.
"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine," someone says against his ear.
Rodney loses half of his beer to the floor. "Jesus Christ!" When he turns around, gearing up to really rip a new asshole into whatever jerk thinks he's entertainment, he catches sight of dark, tousled hair and sharp lines and abruptly can't remember what he was about to say.
"Um," he offers intelligently.
The man's hips shift, cocking out suggestively; Rodney swallows and tries to keep his eyes fixed on the man's sharp-toothed grin and laughing eyes. Noticing Rodney's scrutiny, the guy arches an eyebrow. "You lookin' for a ride?"
Rodney's mouth works for a moment, soundless. "Did you actually just say that to me? Does that work?"
The man throws back his head and laughs, a braying sound that's completely at odds with his put-together outfit and easy charm. Rodney finds himself leaning forward, smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"I'm John," the man grins, holding out his hand. Rodney takes it.
-
"John, oh god," Rodney gasps.
That same lazy grin, a sharp nip of teeth at his hip that has Rodney arching and cursing John's family back ten generations. John just happily laps at the blooming bruise low on Rodney's stomach, his chin bumping the wet tip of Rodney's cock with maddening regularity.
"I - fuck, I didn't ask for it slow," Rodney points out breathlessly. "Shouldn't...you cater to the paying customer?"
John's hands slide up the insides of his thighs, pushing them apart and coaxing Rodney into bending his knees. "Hmmm," John hums, perilously close to the base of Rodney's cock. "Think you like this more'n your letting on, Rodney." As if to prove his point, he licks a slow stripe up the underside, pausing to tease at the sensitive spot right under the ridge for a long moment.
"Oh my god yes," Rodney manages, holding onto John's broad shoulders with both hands.
John chuckles, adding a hint of teeth. "You're fun."