Dec. 17, 1996
Second story in Joe and Len's arc, following Dec. 16!
Not Work-safe!
Coauthored by newkate and hibem!
Thank you so much to louiselux for betaing!
Dec. 17, 1996
"You look different."
The man in the green leather coat smiled at him from behind his long hair and fed a dog biscuit to the bird perched on his shoulder.
"Ah yes, I'm wearing a tie."
Palm soft and deeply lined, voice low and smooth with scent of tobacco quirking under tongue-tip, mouthful of his sigh.
“Are you listening?”
“Yeah,” he groaned, “Yeah.”
Something cool and smothering attacked from nowhere, trying to suffocate. Joe jumped awake and threw off the evil pillow, making his blanket slip. Riley screamed and covered her eyes with both hands.
“Sounds like you were having a good dream,” Zane smirked, not glancing up from whatever he was reading.
"Shut up!" Riley shrieked, slapping her hands over her ears instead. Christ, she was way too fucking shrill first thing in the morning. "It was bad enough with him moaning and humping the couch."
Joe tried to thwap Riley with his pillow but she jumped out of range. She stuck her tongue out, climbed onto her couch and wrapped herself around Zane with an annoyingly smug grin. Joe weighed his options - get up and kick her skinny ass, or try to go back to that sweet dream he’d been having. No contest. He rolled over, muttering, "Fuck off and let me sleep, monkey." A second pillow nailed him on the back of the head and sagged over his face, muffling light and sound.
It was no good. The details of the dream slipped away as he thought of them, lost forever. All Riley’s fault. Stupid brat had annoyed him all day yesterday, prying and poking around, like he had to have a reason to be in a lousy mood. Not that he was, really. He hadn't even been upset that Jenny didn't want to get it on, though he was sorry he'd missed Luke again. The trucker gave damn good head, some of the best he'd ever had - until last night, anyway. Night before last, now. Not that he thought about it much. It had been fun while it was going on, and if the guy wanted to make like Cinderella and run away afterwards, hey, all the better.
He decided to get up and shower, since Riley’s bitching had conveniently killed his morning hard-on. Well, afternoon hard-on, technically speaking. What time was it, anyway?
He sat up and craned for the clock which was balanced precariously on the narrow window sill. Just enough time to grab a shower and raid the kitchen for anything edible. Maybe there'd still be a slice or two of fossilized pizza somewhere. With Zane around, Riley spent less time stuffing her face - at least, with food. Sometimes Joe really hated his brain for the mental images it inflicted on him.
Joe rolled his neck until it popped, picking his way through the newspapers and discarded clothes toward the bathroom. The kids giggled behind his back, scuffling on the sofa. Riley was probably tickling the poor guy again. How that boy had put up with her for so long, Joe couldn't imagine. He was looking forward to going to work. Why wouldn't he? He liked the bar, and he liked the people and anything would be better than hanging around this dump, watching them cuddle and whisper and ignore him.
“Oi, Riley, did you eat all the pizza again?” he asked, kicking an empty box into the corner, “At this rate you're gonna get too fat to top your boytoy.”
"It's a library book!" squeaked Zane, and Joe quickly ducked behind the bathroom door. The heavy volume slammed into the wood right where his head had been.
*-*-*
"Hey man!" Jeff said, diving to punch out the second Joe walked in the door, "You're late.”
"No I'm not. You in a hurry or something?”
"Maybe," Jeff grinned at him and did a double take. “What's with all the silver? You knock over some New Mexican gift shop, or - hey, did you just have a date?"
"Naw. Did you finally find your balls and ask her out?"
"Actually, she kinda asked me."
"'bout time. She's been staring at your ass for months."
"She - Heh. Well, being irresistible is a burden I just have to bear," Jeff said, trying to suppress a silly grin. "Okay, take over. I gotta go change."
Joe chuckled as he punched in and slapped the drawer back into the register. It was a typical crowd for a Sunday night: one college couple absorbed in conversation, an older man nursing a gin and tonic at the end of the bar, and four guys in jeans and cowboy boots drinking pitchers of Miller at the far table.
"How's this?" Jeff asked, reappearing with a plain white button down over his Nirvana T.
"Lose the t-shirt. And, here," Joe unhooked one of his necklaces, the plain silver one, and looped it around Jeff's neck. "Yeah, that's almost a decent look.”
Jeff laughed, "Thanks, mom. Oh, hey, there was a guy in here earlier asking for you.”
Joe’s hands froze mid-straightening Jeff’s collar, but he recovered fast and asked with total nonchalance:
"What guy? What did he look like?"
"I don't know. He was just a guy. Dark hair, glasses. Normal-looking."
"Well, did he leave a name? Wait, did he mention my name? Did you tell him when I'm on? Did he say when -"
"No, no, yes, and no he didn't say when he'd be back," Jeff said, smirking. "Was it someone important?"
“I don’t know,” admitted Joe, “And it’s your fault I can’t tell! Come on, get lost, some of us have work to do.”
Scooore, he thought with a smug smile, Joe hooks another one! That guy just couldn’t stay away, clearly. He’d be back, and this time… It was some spectacular luck that Joe had decided to dress up today and wear most of his jewelry collection, just to cheer himself up. The leather pants made his ass look seriously hot, and this clingy white shirt worked with his coloring. He was on and he was ready; the second time around he wasn’t going to just stare, drool and toss in lame lines. The guy wouldn’t know what hit him.
It was one of the slowest Sunday nights he’d ever had. The regulars didn't show, the strangers didn't feel like talking, though Joe turned the charm up to the max. Everybody was spending ages nursing every drink they bought, and he had nothing to do. He polished the glasses, wiped down the bar till the surface squeaked under the rag, refilled the peanut bowls, dusted the shelves.
Joe tried not to stare at the door too much, but as hours passed and nothing happened his good mood started to wear off. By 12:30 the place had cleared out completely, leaving him with two more hours to kill, alone. Joe sighed and leaned on the bar, looking around for anything to keep himself occupied.
Nobody was coming, obviously. Maybe the guy had just dropped by on a whim and never planned on coming back. And that hickey, Joe remembered, suddenly convinced that the guy was taken, had had a bad date and was looking to blow off steam, was married or something. It probably hadn't even been him who came asking. Could have been that one guy from Alabama he'd fooled around with a bit over the summer. Could have been lots of people. Hell, Jeff could have made the whole thing up. That would be exactly his idea of a really hilarious prank.
Joe decided he might as well clean up early and get this night the hell over with. He polished the last few glasses, turned the chairs onto the tables, mopped the floor and frowned grimly at the bathroom door, pulling on the bulky rubber gloves.
It wasn't like him to get this worked up about some random trick, he thought, angrily swiping at the sink with sponge. Well, most of it was vaguely wounded pride, really. People generally didn’t run out on him after sex, especially before he had a chance to show them a good time. But there was something about that guy that Joe couldn’t get out of his mind. Maybe the way his mouth felt on Joe’s skin, urgent and hot like a brand. Maybe the fact that he was easily the sexiest thing Joe ever laid his hands on. Damn. Maybe Riley was right and he had been acting weird yesterday. That had to stop, now. The guy clearly wasn’t dwelling on him. Joe was going to close up, go home, get painfully drunk and forget all about this whole thing.
He finished the scrubbing and the mopping, threw the gloves into the bucket and leaned against the wall for a moment’s rest. He sighed, realizing that this was the exact same spot where they’d ended up that night, with him pressed into these tiles, his lips burning from that kiss. He could almost feel the guy's iron grip on his arms, soft tongue caressing his skin, lips smiling around a mouthful of his hard cock.
Oh, fuck. Hello, boner. Joe grunted and thumped his head against the wall, cursing his idiot dick aching in his tight leathers, and the guy with his ninja-like vanishing skills, and himself for not letting it go like he should have, and finally, frustrated and angry as hell, he gave up.
*-*-*
Leonard walked briskly down the increasingly familiar street, nearly breaking into a run, ridiculously giddy with excitement. He'd been itching with it all day; he'd woken up with new resolution, his mind completely free of doubts. Not even that perverse pseudo-scientist could ruin his mood, though Doran had smirked at him as they passed on the quad.
A couple hundred yards from the bar he forced himself to slow down so he wouldn’t look too flustered and out of breath when he entered. He straightened his tie, ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it a little, and attempted to shift his silly broad smile into something more suitable for the situation.
The yesterday’s visit had been a fiasco. He'd come in early, during what he expected to be a busy hour, because he didn’t want to look like a stalker trying to get the man alone again. He'd been hoping to take a step back, to initiate a civil conversation that would allow them to get to know each other and turn the whole situation into something less accidental and impersonal. Perhaps build a foundation for something else. Why not? The man was probably unattached and available, judging by his casual attitude. So was he; in fact, since his last sexual partner had completed his degree and left town, he hadn’t even looked for a replacement, too busy with work and studies to find time.
It suddenly dawned on him that he had been celibate - rigorous schedule of masturbation notwithstanding - for over two years. No wonder it had been so easy for…
He shook his head, forcing back the unwelcome memories. He thought about having a cigarette before going inside, but decided to have one at the bar instead, so he’d have something to do with his hands while they spoke.
He was finally getting the jitters, although it was still much better than yesterday, when he’d spent hours composing lines and possible responses and jotting them down on the margins of his lesson plan. He’d only realized the full madness of it when he started copying those scribbles onto a clean sheet of paper; the tiny pieces he had ripped it into were still in his paper basket, accusing him silently.
His acquaintance hadn't been there yesterday, anyway. He'd been replaced by a young man so ordinary that for a moment Leonard doubted his own memory. It was hard to even imagine someone so exotic and sensual working at a humble place like this. Leonard had fidgeted in the doorway and then left without talking to anyone, feeling incredibly stupid.
It had taken him until the next morning to realize his mistake. Bartenders worked in shifts. He had to come back at the same time to catch that man again. It seemed so obvious he could kick himself.
Leonard shook himself a bit, and resolutely opened the door. He stopped short on the red mat, taking in the neatly stacked chairs, the freshly-mopped floor, and the distinct lack of an obscenely gorgeous male at the bar.
“Hello?” he tried. His voice echoed too loudly in the empty room. He quietly stepped inside, craning his neck to try and see anything through the little window of the “Staff Only” door. The room behind it was dark, so he abandoned that direction and stepped into the narrow walkway leading to the men’s.
The men's room door was open just a crack, a sharp slant of light bisecting the industrial yellow mop bucket. He paused with one hand on the thin door, trying to interpret some vibration too slight to be sound.
“Excuse me?” he called, so quietly that he wondered whether he'd actually meant to be heard. The door swung inward silently under his palm.
There was someone standing there, not five feet from the door, leaning into the wall by the hand-dryer. Not just anyone, but him, standing right where Leonard left him that night, as if he had been waiting. Leonard froze, staring at those long legs sheathed in black leather, lean thighs glimmering under fluorescent lights, shaking a little. His fly was open, and Leonard could see his beautiful long cock, dark and flushed, cradled in his fingers as he…
Oh.
This was obviously a private moment.
Leonard knew he should be retreating, stepping back out as quietly as he'd come in to avoid embarrassment, but somehow he was not moving, watching intently as the man’s hand, adorned with heavy silver rings, moved along his erection, faster, then slowing down a little, prolonging the pleasure. If only the hand-dryer wasn't blocking his view of the man's face... Leonard pictured those lips parting wetly to accept his fingers. He needed to see that again. The man's low moan vibrated straight down his spine and he stepped forward, almost tiptoeing on the freshly washed tiles.
He was just as striking as Leonard remembered him to be. His skin was golden and glowing even under these harsh lights; he had his eyes closed, lost in whatever fantasy he was conjuring for this. His right hand crept under the white, nearly sheer shirt he was wearing. Leonard could just barely see his chocolate-colored nipple, could just make out the way he teased it with his fingertips, rubbing in slow circles, gently pinching, flicking his thumb across the hardening tip.
The shirt was unbuttoned all the way down, hanging open. Leonard felt a dull pang of completely unfounded jealousy thinking that everybody, all day long, could see these well-defined abs, small perfectly round navel, that line of darker, thicker hair running down from it. The man opened his palm to run the rings over the underside of his cock, hissed, tossed his head back, exposing more of his neck. The lines of tendon glistened slightly with moisture, a single drop of sweat sliding temptingly from the hollow of his throat to the wide silver chain looped around it. There was another necklace, longer and heavier, a silver longhorn skull trailing silver feathers. It swung a little when he sped up with his hand and spread his legs wider for balance. Turquoise beads shone bright against the soft caramel of the man's skin; he still wore the small gold crucifix Leonard remembered from the other night, and it clashed with the rest endearingly. His earrings caught light, sparkling brightly as he turned his head, trying to shake dark sweat-stuck bangs off his temples. The man’s hand wandered across his chest, pushing the clingy shirt aside, exposing his other nipple. It was pierced, Leonard noted dizzily, and the man caught the barbell and twisted, mouth falling open, tongue running over parted lips.
The latch caught with a too-loud snick, and the man's eyes snapped open, black and bottomless and a thousand other descriptors Leonard's brain was firmly refusing to supply, too torn between guilt and lust to function properly. For example, it would probably be advisable to say something. But his breath was lodged in his throat, and the man's eyes were meandering down his body to take in the erection throbbing in his slacks.
"You," the man breathed, hand still moving lazily over his cock. "You sure took your sweet time getting here."
His fingers slowed down, but didn’t stop, sliding soft foreskin up and down the glistening head. His lips, tight from initial surprise, relaxed and quirked into a challenging smirk.
Leonard forced himself to expel the air cramping his lungs, loosened his shoulders, and felt his mouth curve in an answering smile. "My apologies," he said, “Please, don’t stop on my account.”
He was rewarded with a broad grin and a sensuous roll of those muscled shoulders as the man made himself comfortable against the wall, shamelessly tilting his hips forward for a better view.
“You’re not just going to watch, are you?” he asked, stroking himself slowly, proudly running his fingers over the whole length of his shaft. “Come on. I want to see you.”
*-*-*
If he was dreaming, Riley had better not wake him up this time. This was way too good. The guy had appeared out of nowhere and was standing right in front of him, close enough to touch, hard cock tenting his slacks, staring like he thought Joe Rosario with his dick in his hand was the most magnificent sight this side of the Grand Canyon. He shrugged off his long beige coat and tore his eyes off Joe just long enough to hang it from the hook behind the door, reached down and turned the lock, then stalked closer, quickly unbuttoning his suit jacket. He wasn't quite an arms length away, near enough that Joe could imagine the heat of his body.
He traced the outline of his hardon, hissing a little through his teeth.
"Leonard Borden," he said breathlessly, looking Joe straight in the eye.
"Joe," Joe managed, distracted by the sound of his zipper.
The guy - Leonard - popped the small buttons on his silk boxers open and took his cock out, pulling it through the fly with some difficulty. It was pretty big, Joe thought with a happy shiver, maybe even bigger that his own. Elegant pointed head, smooth lines, thickest mid-length. Hard. Fucking gorgeous.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Leonard said, politely, then licked his palm and wrapped it around his shaft.
"Jesus," Joe whispered, watching Leonard’s eyes slit and his head roll back. He bit his lip and slowed his motions to match the other man’s long, slow strokes, mirroring the way his thumb circled the head.
“I’ve missed your cock,” Leonard said thoughtfully. “I want it in my mouth again, but then, I also want to watch you come, just like this. What a dilemma. Could you play with your balls for me, please?”
"Sure." Joe shoved his tight leather pants down a little more, and cupped his balls, already tight and heavy, rolled them in his palm, taking some of the ache off. Leonard’s fingers moved down, groping his own sac through his pants, squeezing a little.
“Joe,” he muttered, and that was about as much as Joe was prepared to take. He pushed off the wall and flung an arm around Leonard’s shoulders, grabbing for his cock with the other hand. He just had time to notice those eyes widening in surprise before he dove for Leonard's mouth, awkwardly bumping their noses together for a moment.
The kiss was a mess of teeth and sliding tongues and so fucking hot Joe felt weak with it. Leonard took half a step back, then another, moving to lean back on the sink. His cool fingers slid down Joe's back to squeeze his ass, guiding him between Leonard’s spread knees. His cock was slick and hard in Joe's hand, sliding through his fist quickly, impatiently, in rhythm with their frantic kissing. Joe leaned closer and tried to rub their cock heads together without moving his other hand from Leonard's hair. Cool fingers pushed his palm aside and wound around both their shafts, pressing them together, length to length.
"Exquisite," Leonard said into his mouth, and gently kissed his bottom lip, licked across the top. He ignored Joe's urgent grip over his, giving Joe no choice but to lean into it, hips thrusting tightly. "I was thinking about you yesterday," he said, voice close, cheek sliding smooth-rough against Joe's, and added, into his ear, "I thought of you when I touched myself, Joe. Exactly like this."
A wet touch of tongue turned one of his silver hoops and Joe lost it, moaning through clenched teeth, coming all over the silk tie and pressed dress shirt and a good part of Len's impeccable suit jacket.
“Len,” he gasped, dropping his forehead to Len’s shoulder. “Ah, fuck, so good.”
Len was still gently milking his cock, holding him up with the other arm while he tried to lock his knees and stop them from shaking. Joe nuzzled his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin: expensive woodsy aftershave, wool, salt, musk. Len’s hand abandoned his spent cock and slid up to play with his nipple.
Spunk-slick fingers teased over it, pinched a little. Len growled into his ear and tilted him back, sliding lower, flicking the barbell with his tongue, lapping at the smeared sperm. They really had to have a talk about the safe sex. Sometime later. Len’s fingernails ran lightly over his other nipple, and Joe shivered, winding his arms around Len’s narrow waist, pulling them flush together. He could still feel Len's pulse throbbing against him as his own dick softened, and if Len thought he was going to take his hardon elsewhere again, he had another thing coming.
Joe slipped free from the hug and dropped to his knees, too fast, almost losing balance, grabbed onto Len’s hips and got his mouth on that stiff thick cock he'd been wanting for two days now. He flicked his tongue over the head and went down, sucking in as much as would fit in his mouth, shaking with the feel of it, the warmth and the taste marred by his own come. Len flinched with surprise and then melted, pushing into him deeper.
He'd always liked sucking cock, but this, weirdly, felt better than ever. Maybe because he hadn’t done it without a condom in a while, maybe because after all that kissing his mouth was tingly and hungry, maybe because Len’s half-stifled moans sounded so incredibly sexy echoing off the tiled walls.
His teeth kept scraping against the too-thick shaft no matter how wide he tried to open up, but Len didn’t seem to mind. He just rocked into Joe's mouth, stopping himself every few seconds, trying to keep still, though Joe was doing his best to keep him wriggling, and his best was very good. He swirled his tongue around the head, probing all the sweet spots, smirking to himself when he made Len's breath hitch.
He let his hands stroke down Len's thighs, and felt him shiver as he touched the backs of his knees. Interesting. He felt further, tracing the hard lines of his calves, the points of his ankles. He slipped his fingers up under the cuffs of his slacks and found - warm and smooth and catching on the rough tips of his fingers just slightly. Fuck, was he wearing silk fucking stockings? Only years of practice and a good measure of natural talent kept Joe from choking or something equally embarrassing. He let Len fist both hands in his hair and push shallowly into his mouth, concentrating on the slip of silk under his palms, feeling up to the place where it met skin, finding it clipped to a band of what felt like leather - leather! - just under the knee.
He giggled, amazed, too distracted to pay attention to the way Len’s cock hardened against his tongue. He was still stroking the tight leather strap when suddenly his mouth was full of warm salty sperm and he closed his throat and pulled back, panicking, prying fisted fingers off his hair. He scrambled awkwardly around Len, spat in the sink, rinsed his mouth and turned to glare, but the inconsiderate jerk had his eyes closed, panting and smiling, so pretty and glowy.
“Warn me next time, will you?” Joe said, trying to sound stern. “Otherwise, uh, condoms.”
"Ah, my apologies," Len breathed, his eyes drifting open, "Next time I’ll… whatever you’re comfortable with, I’ll be glad to comply," he added and the naked happiness in his tone hit Joe right in the gut.
His cock twitched a little, already interested in next time, though the little guy was obviously not up to anything at the moment. Christ, that had been hot. Len was smiling softly down at him, his hair a mess and his cheeks flushed, and Joe wanted to kiss him. Badly. But first -
"Hey," Joe said, catching his pants just by his knee, "Lemme see."
*-*-*
Joe looked astoundingly good on his knees: leather pants still undone and hanging low, sated grin playing on swollen lips, a single drop of sperm clinging to his chin. He pushed the fabric of Leonard's slacks up, and Leonard helpfully pulled the pant legs as high as he could, letting Joe have a look at his silk-wrapped calves. He ought to feel more awkward about it, he thought as Joe’s fingers tickled the skin between his sock and garter. More nervous or apprehensive. He heard Joe’s giggle again, this time, sadly, not against his skin, and yet did not move, holding the ridiculous position, high on endorphins and the sight of Joe’s neck bent in front of him.
"You are one kinky bastard," Joe said, reverently.
"Says the man in leather pants," Leonard replied, voice only slightly unsteady. Joe smirked up at him quickly and leaned forward, rubbing a rough cheek against the silk.
"Do you get off on wearing them around?" he asked, before running his tongue over the crease of Leonard’s knee. “Do they feel good? Oh fuck, were you wearing them last time?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Jesus,” said Joe again and nuzzled closer, fingers slipping under silk, teeth on the inside of Leonard’s thigh, pinching through his slacks. “Mmmph.”
“I was hoping you'd enjoy them too,” said Leonard, carefully carding his hands through dark mussed hair, debating with himself if it would be too much to ask Joe to bite harder, to mark him, right there, where he would feel it for days. The pain lanced through his leg for a split second, sweet and warm, and then Joe was straightening up, dropping a quick soft kiss on Leonard’s flaccid penis before carefully tucking it back into the underwear.
''Oh,'' he said, taking in the state of Leonard's clothing. "Oh! Here, lemme...''
He grabbed the spare roll of toilet paper from under the sink and began dabbing at Leonard's tie.
''That's all right, I know how to get protein stains off silk,'' Leonard said. He pulled Joe to his feet, and they easily fell into another kiss, into now-familiar tastes and smells. He wanted to hug Joe harder, crush them together till they both couldn't breathe. Instead he stepped back, took out his handkerchief and carefully wiped Joe's face and chest. Joe shivered as Leonard wrapped the fabric around his cock, cleaning it thoroughly.
"Mmh, if you keep that up we'll be here all night," he said, though he was still soft and small in Leonard's palm. “And I could do with a cigarette right now. Let’s go back to the bar, drinks are on me.”
“Drink…” muttered Leonard, struggling to think through the glow. “Oh no. I didn’t pay for my whiskey, did I? Ah, how embarrassing, here, let me...”
Joe laughed, caught his wrist as he reached for the wallet and pulled him forward again.
“No problem, I got it,” he murmured against Leonard’s lips. His tongue flicked out, just a quick wet touch, the warmth of his chest tantalizing even through layers of clothing, and then he was heading out, pulling his pants up and zipping them unhurriedly. Leather hugged his hips, tight and shiny, riding up the cleft of his ass just slightly. Wearing no underwear couldn’t be comfortable, but it did look good, very good, extremely enticing. Leonard’s fingers twitched to reach out, to squeeze hard, to trace the curve along the seam, down, between his legs. He shouldn’t be having such a strong reaction so soon after an orgasm. Abstinence really had done a number on him.
He followed Joe back into the bar, feeling only a twinge of trepidation. He didn't consider himself socially inept as such; he could make a favorable impression when he put some effort into it. Besides, it would be impossibly rude to duck out again, and they did have important matters to discuss.
Next time, Joe'd said. There would be a next time. They had a standing arrangement now, and they had to establish the ground rules early on to avoid disappointment and awkwardness.
Joe slid around the bar and plucked a bottle from the top shelf.
"There's no ice," he said, setting a couple of glasses and an ashtray on the bar, moving with an easy, relaxed grace. "Sorry about that."
"That's fine." Len settled on a stool and busied his hands lighting a cigarette. Now, with the width of the bar between them, he could think more clearly. He expected Joe to start a conversation like he did that first night, but apparently it was his turn now, because Joe was pouring their drinks in complete silence. He set the bottle down, replaced the cap, winked at Len and moved away, to the end of the bar.
"Wh-" started Len, and then Joe plopped heavily onto the stool next to him and threw a long arm over his shoulder. He leaned closer, grinning, and Len didn't register the cigarette perched on his lip until Joe was pressing the tip to his.
Joe rolled the lit cigarette into the corner of his mouth, letting it dangle off his lip precariously, puffed out the smoke sideways, clear of Len's face. He didn't pull back, still leaning on his shoulder, and reached for his glass, obviously very comfortable in this position. Leonard wasn't quite sure how to react - if he was expected to reciprocate in some way or - he shifted on his stool a bit, so that Joe's forearm fit better against the crook of his neck.
Joe pressed a glass into his hand, smirking at him sideways.
"So, do you always dress like this, or is it just for me?"
"Ah, well," Leonard sipped his whiskey, enjoying the taste, searching for something witty to say - perhaps a quote - but in the end shrugged and admitted "These are just my working clothes, really."
"Yeah? What d'you do? Oh, oh, let me guess - you're in accounting or something like that. Or banking?"
Leonard smiled into his glass.
"I'm completing my thesis on quantum chromodynamics."
"Cool," drawled Joe. "Excitons and hadrons?"
“Oh, are you into particle physics?” Leonard asked, sounding a bit more excited then he intended too.
Joe's grin faltered a bit. "Ah, it's just - my roommate's boyfriend likes documentaries. I knew this stuff would make a perfect pick-up line sooner or later. I mean, hadrons!"
"Some terms are rather suggestive, aren't they?” Leonard said, smiling reassuringly and watching the curve of Joe's mouth. “Emission probabilities from particle-hole excitations, for example."
Joe licked his lip.
"Yeah," he murmured, swaying closer, "Exactly."
And then they were kissing again, leaning into the small space between them, mingling smoke and whiskey-smelling breath, Joe's fingers sliding into his hair. Eventually, Joe got up and, without a word, bent over the bar, laying himself on the polished surface. Len swallowed, staring hard at that marvelous ass inches from his face.
“Joe?” he asked uncertainly, not moving. Was that an invitation? He wasn’t even sure if he could perform yet, although, of course…
“Damn, where is it?” huffed Joe, rummaging under the bar, and then emerged with a pen and a stack of cocktail napkins.
"Okay, you know where to find me obviously, but just in case," he scribbled down a string of numbers, handed the napkin to Leonard and watched closely as he tucked it into his wallet.
“Thank you. I was going to give you my number before we got - sidetracked.” He took the pen and wrote down his name and home number, taking care to make every symbol easily legible. “You'll have to excuse my manners, it’s just that I haven’t dated for… ever, really. Formally, that is.”
Joe blinked at him. "Never? Are you serious? But you’re so hot! Why not?”
“Ah, just… Never wanted to, I suppose.”
“You're not a virgin, are you? No, you couldn't be. You're way too good. That blowjob the other day - and all that just now, and the way you kiss…”
Leonard chuckled tightly and shook his head, dismissing the compliment:
“Some people are more physically compatible than the others. And we -“ He trailed off, searching for a turn of phrase that wouldn't make Joe laugh at him or apply for a restraining order. “Oh, look at the time, I really should be going.”
"Well, if you have to," Joe shrugged, lounging against the bar. "Don't be a stranger."
Leonard got up, buttoned up his suit jacket, picked up his coat from where he'd left slung over the bar, and turned back to Joe:
"I had a wonderful time. Thank you, Joe."
"Any time, Len," Joe grinned.
Leonard smiled, nodded and walked out, fully intending to take Joe’s words very literally.
Notes:
Here's a helpful visual aid!
We need a beta for the next installment of the series, which comes in at 3300 words. Any takers? It's all complete and just waaaiting for you!
Also, please consider watching this comm if you want to follow the story!
Not Work-safe!
Coauthored by newkate and hibem!
Thank you so much to louiselux for betaing!
Dec. 17, 1996
"You look different."
The man in the green leather coat smiled at him from behind his long hair and fed a dog biscuit to the bird perched on his shoulder.
"Ah yes, I'm wearing a tie."
Palm soft and deeply lined, voice low and smooth with scent of tobacco quirking under tongue-tip, mouthful of his sigh.
“Are you listening?”
“Yeah,” he groaned, “Yeah.”
Something cool and smothering attacked from nowhere, trying to suffocate. Joe jumped awake and threw off the evil pillow, making his blanket slip. Riley screamed and covered her eyes with both hands.
“Sounds like you were having a good dream,” Zane smirked, not glancing up from whatever he was reading.
"Shut up!" Riley shrieked, slapping her hands over her ears instead. Christ, she was way too fucking shrill first thing in the morning. "It was bad enough with him moaning and humping the couch."
Joe tried to thwap Riley with his pillow but she jumped out of range. She stuck her tongue out, climbed onto her couch and wrapped herself around Zane with an annoyingly smug grin. Joe weighed his options - get up and kick her skinny ass, or try to go back to that sweet dream he’d been having. No contest. He rolled over, muttering, "Fuck off and let me sleep, monkey." A second pillow nailed him on the back of the head and sagged over his face, muffling light and sound.
It was no good. The details of the dream slipped away as he thought of them, lost forever. All Riley’s fault. Stupid brat had annoyed him all day yesterday, prying and poking around, like he had to have a reason to be in a lousy mood. Not that he was, really. He hadn't even been upset that Jenny didn't want to get it on, though he was sorry he'd missed Luke again. The trucker gave damn good head, some of the best he'd ever had - until last night, anyway. Night before last, now. Not that he thought about it much. It had been fun while it was going on, and if the guy wanted to make like Cinderella and run away afterwards, hey, all the better.
He decided to get up and shower, since Riley’s bitching had conveniently killed his morning hard-on. Well, afternoon hard-on, technically speaking. What time was it, anyway?
He sat up and craned for the clock which was balanced precariously on the narrow window sill. Just enough time to grab a shower and raid the kitchen for anything edible. Maybe there'd still be a slice or two of fossilized pizza somewhere. With Zane around, Riley spent less time stuffing her face - at least, with food. Sometimes Joe really hated his brain for the mental images it inflicted on him.
Joe rolled his neck until it popped, picking his way through the newspapers and discarded clothes toward the bathroom. The kids giggled behind his back, scuffling on the sofa. Riley was probably tickling the poor guy again. How that boy had put up with her for so long, Joe couldn't imagine. He was looking forward to going to work. Why wouldn't he? He liked the bar, and he liked the people and anything would be better than hanging around this dump, watching them cuddle and whisper and ignore him.
“Oi, Riley, did you eat all the pizza again?” he asked, kicking an empty box into the corner, “At this rate you're gonna get too fat to top your boytoy.”
"It's a library book!" squeaked Zane, and Joe quickly ducked behind the bathroom door. The heavy volume slammed into the wood right where his head had been.
*-*-*
"Hey man!" Jeff said, diving to punch out the second Joe walked in the door, "You're late.”
"No I'm not. You in a hurry or something?”
"Maybe," Jeff grinned at him and did a double take. “What's with all the silver? You knock over some New Mexican gift shop, or - hey, did you just have a date?"
"Naw. Did you finally find your balls and ask her out?"
"Actually, she kinda asked me."
"'bout time. She's been staring at your ass for months."
"She - Heh. Well, being irresistible is a burden I just have to bear," Jeff said, trying to suppress a silly grin. "Okay, take over. I gotta go change."
Joe chuckled as he punched in and slapped the drawer back into the register. It was a typical crowd for a Sunday night: one college couple absorbed in conversation, an older man nursing a gin and tonic at the end of the bar, and four guys in jeans and cowboy boots drinking pitchers of Miller at the far table.
"How's this?" Jeff asked, reappearing with a plain white button down over his Nirvana T.
"Lose the t-shirt. And, here," Joe unhooked one of his necklaces, the plain silver one, and looped it around Jeff's neck. "Yeah, that's almost a decent look.”
Jeff laughed, "Thanks, mom. Oh, hey, there was a guy in here earlier asking for you.”
Joe’s hands froze mid-straightening Jeff’s collar, but he recovered fast and asked with total nonchalance:
"What guy? What did he look like?"
"I don't know. He was just a guy. Dark hair, glasses. Normal-looking."
"Well, did he leave a name? Wait, did he mention my name? Did you tell him when I'm on? Did he say when -"
"No, no, yes, and no he didn't say when he'd be back," Jeff said, smirking. "Was it someone important?"
“I don’t know,” admitted Joe, “And it’s your fault I can’t tell! Come on, get lost, some of us have work to do.”
Scooore, he thought with a smug smile, Joe hooks another one! That guy just couldn’t stay away, clearly. He’d be back, and this time… It was some spectacular luck that Joe had decided to dress up today and wear most of his jewelry collection, just to cheer himself up. The leather pants made his ass look seriously hot, and this clingy white shirt worked with his coloring. He was on and he was ready; the second time around he wasn’t going to just stare, drool and toss in lame lines. The guy wouldn’t know what hit him.
It was one of the slowest Sunday nights he’d ever had. The regulars didn't show, the strangers didn't feel like talking, though Joe turned the charm up to the max. Everybody was spending ages nursing every drink they bought, and he had nothing to do. He polished the glasses, wiped down the bar till the surface squeaked under the rag, refilled the peanut bowls, dusted the shelves.
Joe tried not to stare at the door too much, but as hours passed and nothing happened his good mood started to wear off. By 12:30 the place had cleared out completely, leaving him with two more hours to kill, alone. Joe sighed and leaned on the bar, looking around for anything to keep himself occupied.
Nobody was coming, obviously. Maybe the guy had just dropped by on a whim and never planned on coming back. And that hickey, Joe remembered, suddenly convinced that the guy was taken, had had a bad date and was looking to blow off steam, was married or something. It probably hadn't even been him who came asking. Could have been that one guy from Alabama he'd fooled around with a bit over the summer. Could have been lots of people. Hell, Jeff could have made the whole thing up. That would be exactly his idea of a really hilarious prank.
Joe decided he might as well clean up early and get this night the hell over with. He polished the last few glasses, turned the chairs onto the tables, mopped the floor and frowned grimly at the bathroom door, pulling on the bulky rubber gloves.
It wasn't like him to get this worked up about some random trick, he thought, angrily swiping at the sink with sponge. Well, most of it was vaguely wounded pride, really. People generally didn’t run out on him after sex, especially before he had a chance to show them a good time. But there was something about that guy that Joe couldn’t get out of his mind. Maybe the way his mouth felt on Joe’s skin, urgent and hot like a brand. Maybe the fact that he was easily the sexiest thing Joe ever laid his hands on. Damn. Maybe Riley was right and he had been acting weird yesterday. That had to stop, now. The guy clearly wasn’t dwelling on him. Joe was going to close up, go home, get painfully drunk and forget all about this whole thing.
He finished the scrubbing and the mopping, threw the gloves into the bucket and leaned against the wall for a moment’s rest. He sighed, realizing that this was the exact same spot where they’d ended up that night, with him pressed into these tiles, his lips burning from that kiss. He could almost feel the guy's iron grip on his arms, soft tongue caressing his skin, lips smiling around a mouthful of his hard cock.
Oh, fuck. Hello, boner. Joe grunted and thumped his head against the wall, cursing his idiot dick aching in his tight leathers, and the guy with his ninja-like vanishing skills, and himself for not letting it go like he should have, and finally, frustrated and angry as hell, he gave up.
*-*-*
Leonard walked briskly down the increasingly familiar street, nearly breaking into a run, ridiculously giddy with excitement. He'd been itching with it all day; he'd woken up with new resolution, his mind completely free of doubts. Not even that perverse pseudo-scientist could ruin his mood, though Doran had smirked at him as they passed on the quad.
A couple hundred yards from the bar he forced himself to slow down so he wouldn’t look too flustered and out of breath when he entered. He straightened his tie, ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it a little, and attempted to shift his silly broad smile into something more suitable for the situation.
The yesterday’s visit had been a fiasco. He'd come in early, during what he expected to be a busy hour, because he didn’t want to look like a stalker trying to get the man alone again. He'd been hoping to take a step back, to initiate a civil conversation that would allow them to get to know each other and turn the whole situation into something less accidental and impersonal. Perhaps build a foundation for something else. Why not? The man was probably unattached and available, judging by his casual attitude. So was he; in fact, since his last sexual partner had completed his degree and left town, he hadn’t even looked for a replacement, too busy with work and studies to find time.
It suddenly dawned on him that he had been celibate - rigorous schedule of masturbation notwithstanding - for over two years. No wonder it had been so easy for…
He shook his head, forcing back the unwelcome memories. He thought about having a cigarette before going inside, but decided to have one at the bar instead, so he’d have something to do with his hands while they spoke.
He was finally getting the jitters, although it was still much better than yesterday, when he’d spent hours composing lines and possible responses and jotting them down on the margins of his lesson plan. He’d only realized the full madness of it when he started copying those scribbles onto a clean sheet of paper; the tiny pieces he had ripped it into were still in his paper basket, accusing him silently.
His acquaintance hadn't been there yesterday, anyway. He'd been replaced by a young man so ordinary that for a moment Leonard doubted his own memory. It was hard to even imagine someone so exotic and sensual working at a humble place like this. Leonard had fidgeted in the doorway and then left without talking to anyone, feeling incredibly stupid.
It had taken him until the next morning to realize his mistake. Bartenders worked in shifts. He had to come back at the same time to catch that man again. It seemed so obvious he could kick himself.
Leonard shook himself a bit, and resolutely opened the door. He stopped short on the red mat, taking in the neatly stacked chairs, the freshly-mopped floor, and the distinct lack of an obscenely gorgeous male at the bar.
“Hello?” he tried. His voice echoed too loudly in the empty room. He quietly stepped inside, craning his neck to try and see anything through the little window of the “Staff Only” door. The room behind it was dark, so he abandoned that direction and stepped into the narrow walkway leading to the men’s.
The men's room door was open just a crack, a sharp slant of light bisecting the industrial yellow mop bucket. He paused with one hand on the thin door, trying to interpret some vibration too slight to be sound.
“Excuse me?” he called, so quietly that he wondered whether he'd actually meant to be heard. The door swung inward silently under his palm.
There was someone standing there, not five feet from the door, leaning into the wall by the hand-dryer. Not just anyone, but him, standing right where Leonard left him that night, as if he had been waiting. Leonard froze, staring at those long legs sheathed in black leather, lean thighs glimmering under fluorescent lights, shaking a little. His fly was open, and Leonard could see his beautiful long cock, dark and flushed, cradled in his fingers as he…
Oh.
This was obviously a private moment.
Leonard knew he should be retreating, stepping back out as quietly as he'd come in to avoid embarrassment, but somehow he was not moving, watching intently as the man’s hand, adorned with heavy silver rings, moved along his erection, faster, then slowing down a little, prolonging the pleasure. If only the hand-dryer wasn't blocking his view of the man's face... Leonard pictured those lips parting wetly to accept his fingers. He needed to see that again. The man's low moan vibrated straight down his spine and he stepped forward, almost tiptoeing on the freshly washed tiles.
He was just as striking as Leonard remembered him to be. His skin was golden and glowing even under these harsh lights; he had his eyes closed, lost in whatever fantasy he was conjuring for this. His right hand crept under the white, nearly sheer shirt he was wearing. Leonard could just barely see his chocolate-colored nipple, could just make out the way he teased it with his fingertips, rubbing in slow circles, gently pinching, flicking his thumb across the hardening tip.
The shirt was unbuttoned all the way down, hanging open. Leonard felt a dull pang of completely unfounded jealousy thinking that everybody, all day long, could see these well-defined abs, small perfectly round navel, that line of darker, thicker hair running down from it. The man opened his palm to run the rings over the underside of his cock, hissed, tossed his head back, exposing more of his neck. The lines of tendon glistened slightly with moisture, a single drop of sweat sliding temptingly from the hollow of his throat to the wide silver chain looped around it. There was another necklace, longer and heavier, a silver longhorn skull trailing silver feathers. It swung a little when he sped up with his hand and spread his legs wider for balance. Turquoise beads shone bright against the soft caramel of the man's skin; he still wore the small gold crucifix Leonard remembered from the other night, and it clashed with the rest endearingly. His earrings caught light, sparkling brightly as he turned his head, trying to shake dark sweat-stuck bangs off his temples. The man’s hand wandered across his chest, pushing the clingy shirt aside, exposing his other nipple. It was pierced, Leonard noted dizzily, and the man caught the barbell and twisted, mouth falling open, tongue running over parted lips.
The latch caught with a too-loud snick, and the man's eyes snapped open, black and bottomless and a thousand other descriptors Leonard's brain was firmly refusing to supply, too torn between guilt and lust to function properly. For example, it would probably be advisable to say something. But his breath was lodged in his throat, and the man's eyes were meandering down his body to take in the erection throbbing in his slacks.
"You," the man breathed, hand still moving lazily over his cock. "You sure took your sweet time getting here."
His fingers slowed down, but didn’t stop, sliding soft foreskin up and down the glistening head. His lips, tight from initial surprise, relaxed and quirked into a challenging smirk.
Leonard forced himself to expel the air cramping his lungs, loosened his shoulders, and felt his mouth curve in an answering smile. "My apologies," he said, “Please, don’t stop on my account.”
He was rewarded with a broad grin and a sensuous roll of those muscled shoulders as the man made himself comfortable against the wall, shamelessly tilting his hips forward for a better view.
“You’re not just going to watch, are you?” he asked, stroking himself slowly, proudly running his fingers over the whole length of his shaft. “Come on. I want to see you.”
*-*-*
If he was dreaming, Riley had better not wake him up this time. This was way too good. The guy had appeared out of nowhere and was standing right in front of him, close enough to touch, hard cock tenting his slacks, staring like he thought Joe Rosario with his dick in his hand was the most magnificent sight this side of the Grand Canyon. He shrugged off his long beige coat and tore his eyes off Joe just long enough to hang it from the hook behind the door, reached down and turned the lock, then stalked closer, quickly unbuttoning his suit jacket. He wasn't quite an arms length away, near enough that Joe could imagine the heat of his body.
He traced the outline of his hardon, hissing a little through his teeth.
"Leonard Borden," he said breathlessly, looking Joe straight in the eye.
"Joe," Joe managed, distracted by the sound of his zipper.
The guy - Leonard - popped the small buttons on his silk boxers open and took his cock out, pulling it through the fly with some difficulty. It was pretty big, Joe thought with a happy shiver, maybe even bigger that his own. Elegant pointed head, smooth lines, thickest mid-length. Hard. Fucking gorgeous.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Leonard said, politely, then licked his palm and wrapped it around his shaft.
"Jesus," Joe whispered, watching Leonard’s eyes slit and his head roll back. He bit his lip and slowed his motions to match the other man’s long, slow strokes, mirroring the way his thumb circled the head.
“I’ve missed your cock,” Leonard said thoughtfully. “I want it in my mouth again, but then, I also want to watch you come, just like this. What a dilemma. Could you play with your balls for me, please?”
"Sure." Joe shoved his tight leather pants down a little more, and cupped his balls, already tight and heavy, rolled them in his palm, taking some of the ache off. Leonard’s fingers moved down, groping his own sac through his pants, squeezing a little.
“Joe,” he muttered, and that was about as much as Joe was prepared to take. He pushed off the wall and flung an arm around Leonard’s shoulders, grabbing for his cock with the other hand. He just had time to notice those eyes widening in surprise before he dove for Leonard's mouth, awkwardly bumping their noses together for a moment.
The kiss was a mess of teeth and sliding tongues and so fucking hot Joe felt weak with it. Leonard took half a step back, then another, moving to lean back on the sink. His cool fingers slid down Joe's back to squeeze his ass, guiding him between Leonard’s spread knees. His cock was slick and hard in Joe's hand, sliding through his fist quickly, impatiently, in rhythm with their frantic kissing. Joe leaned closer and tried to rub their cock heads together without moving his other hand from Leonard's hair. Cool fingers pushed his palm aside and wound around both their shafts, pressing them together, length to length.
"Exquisite," Leonard said into his mouth, and gently kissed his bottom lip, licked across the top. He ignored Joe's urgent grip over his, giving Joe no choice but to lean into it, hips thrusting tightly. "I was thinking about you yesterday," he said, voice close, cheek sliding smooth-rough against Joe's, and added, into his ear, "I thought of you when I touched myself, Joe. Exactly like this."
A wet touch of tongue turned one of his silver hoops and Joe lost it, moaning through clenched teeth, coming all over the silk tie and pressed dress shirt and a good part of Len's impeccable suit jacket.
“Len,” he gasped, dropping his forehead to Len’s shoulder. “Ah, fuck, so good.”
Len was still gently milking his cock, holding him up with the other arm while he tried to lock his knees and stop them from shaking. Joe nuzzled his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin: expensive woodsy aftershave, wool, salt, musk. Len’s hand abandoned his spent cock and slid up to play with his nipple.
Spunk-slick fingers teased over it, pinched a little. Len growled into his ear and tilted him back, sliding lower, flicking the barbell with his tongue, lapping at the smeared sperm. They really had to have a talk about the safe sex. Sometime later. Len’s fingernails ran lightly over his other nipple, and Joe shivered, winding his arms around Len’s narrow waist, pulling them flush together. He could still feel Len's pulse throbbing against him as his own dick softened, and if Len thought he was going to take his hardon elsewhere again, he had another thing coming.
Joe slipped free from the hug and dropped to his knees, too fast, almost losing balance, grabbed onto Len’s hips and got his mouth on that stiff thick cock he'd been wanting for two days now. He flicked his tongue over the head and went down, sucking in as much as would fit in his mouth, shaking with the feel of it, the warmth and the taste marred by his own come. Len flinched with surprise and then melted, pushing into him deeper.
He'd always liked sucking cock, but this, weirdly, felt better than ever. Maybe because he hadn’t done it without a condom in a while, maybe because after all that kissing his mouth was tingly and hungry, maybe because Len’s half-stifled moans sounded so incredibly sexy echoing off the tiled walls.
His teeth kept scraping against the too-thick shaft no matter how wide he tried to open up, but Len didn’t seem to mind. He just rocked into Joe's mouth, stopping himself every few seconds, trying to keep still, though Joe was doing his best to keep him wriggling, and his best was very good. He swirled his tongue around the head, probing all the sweet spots, smirking to himself when he made Len's breath hitch.
He let his hands stroke down Len's thighs, and felt him shiver as he touched the backs of his knees. Interesting. He felt further, tracing the hard lines of his calves, the points of his ankles. He slipped his fingers up under the cuffs of his slacks and found - warm and smooth and catching on the rough tips of his fingers just slightly. Fuck, was he wearing silk fucking stockings? Only years of practice and a good measure of natural talent kept Joe from choking or something equally embarrassing. He let Len fist both hands in his hair and push shallowly into his mouth, concentrating on the slip of silk under his palms, feeling up to the place where it met skin, finding it clipped to a band of what felt like leather - leather! - just under the knee.
He giggled, amazed, too distracted to pay attention to the way Len’s cock hardened against his tongue. He was still stroking the tight leather strap when suddenly his mouth was full of warm salty sperm and he closed his throat and pulled back, panicking, prying fisted fingers off his hair. He scrambled awkwardly around Len, spat in the sink, rinsed his mouth and turned to glare, but the inconsiderate jerk had his eyes closed, panting and smiling, so pretty and glowy.
“Warn me next time, will you?” Joe said, trying to sound stern. “Otherwise, uh, condoms.”
"Ah, my apologies," Len breathed, his eyes drifting open, "Next time I’ll… whatever you’re comfortable with, I’ll be glad to comply," he added and the naked happiness in his tone hit Joe right in the gut.
His cock twitched a little, already interested in next time, though the little guy was obviously not up to anything at the moment. Christ, that had been hot. Len was smiling softly down at him, his hair a mess and his cheeks flushed, and Joe wanted to kiss him. Badly. But first -
"Hey," Joe said, catching his pants just by his knee, "Lemme see."
*-*-*
Joe looked astoundingly good on his knees: leather pants still undone and hanging low, sated grin playing on swollen lips, a single drop of sperm clinging to his chin. He pushed the fabric of Leonard's slacks up, and Leonard helpfully pulled the pant legs as high as he could, letting Joe have a look at his silk-wrapped calves. He ought to feel more awkward about it, he thought as Joe’s fingers tickled the skin between his sock and garter. More nervous or apprehensive. He heard Joe’s giggle again, this time, sadly, not against his skin, and yet did not move, holding the ridiculous position, high on endorphins and the sight of Joe’s neck bent in front of him.
"You are one kinky bastard," Joe said, reverently.
"Says the man in leather pants," Leonard replied, voice only slightly unsteady. Joe smirked up at him quickly and leaned forward, rubbing a rough cheek against the silk.
"Do you get off on wearing them around?" he asked, before running his tongue over the crease of Leonard’s knee. “Do they feel good? Oh fuck, were you wearing them last time?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Jesus,” said Joe again and nuzzled closer, fingers slipping under silk, teeth on the inside of Leonard’s thigh, pinching through his slacks. “Mmmph.”
“I was hoping you'd enjoy them too,” said Leonard, carefully carding his hands through dark mussed hair, debating with himself if it would be too much to ask Joe to bite harder, to mark him, right there, where he would feel it for days. The pain lanced through his leg for a split second, sweet and warm, and then Joe was straightening up, dropping a quick soft kiss on Leonard’s flaccid penis before carefully tucking it back into the underwear.
''Oh,'' he said, taking in the state of Leonard's clothing. "Oh! Here, lemme...''
He grabbed the spare roll of toilet paper from under the sink and began dabbing at Leonard's tie.
''That's all right, I know how to get protein stains off silk,'' Leonard said. He pulled Joe to his feet, and they easily fell into another kiss, into now-familiar tastes and smells. He wanted to hug Joe harder, crush them together till they both couldn't breathe. Instead he stepped back, took out his handkerchief and carefully wiped Joe's face and chest. Joe shivered as Leonard wrapped the fabric around his cock, cleaning it thoroughly.
"Mmh, if you keep that up we'll be here all night," he said, though he was still soft and small in Leonard's palm. “And I could do with a cigarette right now. Let’s go back to the bar, drinks are on me.”
“Drink…” muttered Leonard, struggling to think through the glow. “Oh no. I didn’t pay for my whiskey, did I? Ah, how embarrassing, here, let me...”
Joe laughed, caught his wrist as he reached for the wallet and pulled him forward again.
“No problem, I got it,” he murmured against Leonard’s lips. His tongue flicked out, just a quick wet touch, the warmth of his chest tantalizing even through layers of clothing, and then he was heading out, pulling his pants up and zipping them unhurriedly. Leather hugged his hips, tight and shiny, riding up the cleft of his ass just slightly. Wearing no underwear couldn’t be comfortable, but it did look good, very good, extremely enticing. Leonard’s fingers twitched to reach out, to squeeze hard, to trace the curve along the seam, down, between his legs. He shouldn’t be having such a strong reaction so soon after an orgasm. Abstinence really had done a number on him.
He followed Joe back into the bar, feeling only a twinge of trepidation. He didn't consider himself socially inept as such; he could make a favorable impression when he put some effort into it. Besides, it would be impossibly rude to duck out again, and they did have important matters to discuss.
Next time, Joe'd said. There would be a next time. They had a standing arrangement now, and they had to establish the ground rules early on to avoid disappointment and awkwardness.
Joe slid around the bar and plucked a bottle from the top shelf.
"There's no ice," he said, setting a couple of glasses and an ashtray on the bar, moving with an easy, relaxed grace. "Sorry about that."
"That's fine." Len settled on a stool and busied his hands lighting a cigarette. Now, with the width of the bar between them, he could think more clearly. He expected Joe to start a conversation like he did that first night, but apparently it was his turn now, because Joe was pouring their drinks in complete silence. He set the bottle down, replaced the cap, winked at Len and moved away, to the end of the bar.
"Wh-" started Len, and then Joe plopped heavily onto the stool next to him and threw a long arm over his shoulder. He leaned closer, grinning, and Len didn't register the cigarette perched on his lip until Joe was pressing the tip to his.
Joe rolled the lit cigarette into the corner of his mouth, letting it dangle off his lip precariously, puffed out the smoke sideways, clear of Len's face. He didn't pull back, still leaning on his shoulder, and reached for his glass, obviously very comfortable in this position. Leonard wasn't quite sure how to react - if he was expected to reciprocate in some way or - he shifted on his stool a bit, so that Joe's forearm fit better against the crook of his neck.
Joe pressed a glass into his hand, smirking at him sideways.
"So, do you always dress like this, or is it just for me?"
"Ah, well," Leonard sipped his whiskey, enjoying the taste, searching for something witty to say - perhaps a quote - but in the end shrugged and admitted "These are just my working clothes, really."
"Yeah? What d'you do? Oh, oh, let me guess - you're in accounting or something like that. Or banking?"
Leonard smiled into his glass.
"I'm completing my thesis on quantum chromodynamics."
"Cool," drawled Joe. "Excitons and hadrons?"
“Oh, are you into particle physics?” Leonard asked, sounding a bit more excited then he intended too.
Joe's grin faltered a bit. "Ah, it's just - my roommate's boyfriend likes documentaries. I knew this stuff would make a perfect pick-up line sooner or later. I mean, hadrons!"
"Some terms are rather suggestive, aren't they?” Leonard said, smiling reassuringly and watching the curve of Joe's mouth. “Emission probabilities from particle-hole excitations, for example."
Joe licked his lip.
"Yeah," he murmured, swaying closer, "Exactly."
And then they were kissing again, leaning into the small space between them, mingling smoke and whiskey-smelling breath, Joe's fingers sliding into his hair. Eventually, Joe got up and, without a word, bent over the bar, laying himself on the polished surface. Len swallowed, staring hard at that marvelous ass inches from his face.
“Joe?” he asked uncertainly, not moving. Was that an invitation? He wasn’t even sure if he could perform yet, although, of course…
“Damn, where is it?” huffed Joe, rummaging under the bar, and then emerged with a pen and a stack of cocktail napkins.
"Okay, you know where to find me obviously, but just in case," he scribbled down a string of numbers, handed the napkin to Leonard and watched closely as he tucked it into his wallet.
“Thank you. I was going to give you my number before we got - sidetracked.” He took the pen and wrote down his name and home number, taking care to make every symbol easily legible. “You'll have to excuse my manners, it’s just that I haven’t dated for… ever, really. Formally, that is.”
Joe blinked at him. "Never? Are you serious? But you’re so hot! Why not?”
“Ah, just… Never wanted to, I suppose.”
“You're not a virgin, are you? No, you couldn't be. You're way too good. That blowjob the other day - and all that just now, and the way you kiss…”
Leonard chuckled tightly and shook his head, dismissing the compliment:
“Some people are more physically compatible than the others. And we -“ He trailed off, searching for a turn of phrase that wouldn't make Joe laugh at him or apply for a restraining order. “Oh, look at the time, I really should be going.”
"Well, if you have to," Joe shrugged, lounging against the bar. "Don't be a stranger."
Leonard got up, buttoned up his suit jacket, picked up his coat from where he'd left slung over the bar, and turned back to Joe:
"I had a wonderful time. Thank you, Joe."
"Any time, Len," Joe grinned.
Leonard smiled, nodded and walked out, fully intending to take Joe’s words very literally.
Notes:
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