Just as Guy lets out a shuddering sigh, aware that he's past the point of casual stroking and is now firmly entrenched in the need to come, a loud pair of drunken, laughing club patrons stumble into the bathroom. Guy freezes, but Thomas instantly lifts both his legs up, ensuring that only one set of feet is visible under the stall divider. Guy only has a moment to realize that the way his feet are pointed toward the toilet will look suspicious before one of the men raps on the stall door.
"Hey," the man hisses in that trying-not-to-be-loud not-really-whisper everyone seems to develop at a certain point of inebriation. "Are you getting fucked up in there? Can I buy some off you?"
"No," Guy blurts out immediately, "I'm fucking puking, leave me alone."
Thomas shoves most of one fist in his mouth to keep from laughing out loud, his shoulders shaking violently.
"Shit, sorry, man," the drunk says. He and his friend both quiet down, as if on Guy's behalf, and soon return to the club, easing the bathroom door shut behind them.
Thomas lets out a peal of laughter, finally putting his feet back on the ground. "That was fucking priceless! 'I'm fucking puking.' Fuck..."
Unamused, Guy tucks his cock back into his underwear. "I wasn't trying to make a joke. What if we had been found out?"
Thomas shrugs, still grinning. "Then it would be the first time anyone had ever been discovered getting it on inside a club's bathroom. Our careers? Over."
Guy thumps his head back against the stall door. "Everything is such a fucking joke."
"One day I'm going to play with that."
"With what?"
"With how annoyed you get -- with the entire world -- if you can't come as soon as you feel the need." And just like that, Thomas's expression isn't funny anymore; it's shrewd and intent, and Guy has that feeling in the pit of his stomach that reminds him that he isn't his own man anymore. Maybe he hasn't been since the moment he met Thomas. It's always been more important to please Thomas than to do as he prefers himself.
Guy pulls his underwear down again. It doesn't matter anymore how much further Thomas might push him due to the initiative.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Do It, 3/4
Date: 2011-05-06 09:58 pm (UTC)"Hey," the man hisses in that trying-not-to-be-loud not-really-whisper everyone seems to develop at a certain point of inebriation. "Are you getting fucked up in there? Can I buy some off you?"
"No," Guy blurts out immediately, "I'm fucking puking, leave me alone."
Thomas shoves most of one fist in his mouth to keep from laughing out loud, his shoulders shaking violently.
"Shit, sorry, man," the drunk says. He and his friend both quiet down, as if on Guy's behalf, and soon return to the club, easing the bathroom door shut behind them.
Thomas lets out a peal of laughter, finally putting his feet back on the ground. "That was fucking priceless! 'I'm fucking puking.' Fuck..."
Unamused, Guy tucks his cock back into his underwear. "I wasn't trying to make a joke. What if we had been found out?"
Thomas shrugs, still grinning. "Then it would be the first time anyone had ever been discovered getting it on inside a club's bathroom. Our careers? Over."
Guy thumps his head back against the stall door. "Everything is such a fucking joke."
"One day I'm going to play with that."
"With what?"
"With how annoyed you get -- with the entire world -- if you can't come as soon as you feel the need." And just like that, Thomas's expression isn't funny anymore; it's shrewd and intent, and Guy has that feeling in the pit of his stomach that reminds him that he isn't his own man anymore. Maybe he hasn't been since the moment he met Thomas. It's always been more important to please Thomas than to do as he prefers himself.
Guy pulls his underwear down again. It doesn't matter anymore how much further Thomas might push him due to the initiative.