nysalogs | ( open ) meet me in the alleyway

[ John knows someone's coming before they arrive, by merit of a Guard visit being relatively rare unless it's a leisure call. the visitor isn't one the staff are familiar with, and as it becomes clear he's not here to splash out on a little R&R but instead to see Dr. Watson, word reaches John fast.

he's not worried. it's either Peggy or Thomas. the door opens to let in his visitor and John looks up from his work to find— ]

Thomas. Hi.

[ John greets him with a glad smile, standing to welcome him— except he looks... off. not quite his usual self somehow, not quite together. here, in his office, in his role as doctor, John's first reaction is to frown. a temperature, maybe? did something happen? concerned, he starts to move around his desk. ]

You alright? Come in.

[ thomas hadn't doubted his welcome or worried that john would take back the invitation, but it is still a relief to see a familiar face, to leave the streets and the amount of skin on display there and inside the brothel both behind. john is familiar and while that familiarity does nothing to lessen the need that's burning underneath thomas' skin, that makes it difficult to think of anything other than touching and being touched, of sinking to his knees, it takes away the sting of discomfort that's come with it. ]

I'm fine.

[ the answer is reflexive. thomas takes a step into the room, and, closing the door behind him, another. closer to john. he drags in a breath. ] I think - there's something in the air, isn't there? [ he's fighting hard to make his voice sound composed. ]

[ something in the air? for a second, John's frown deepens - is that a trace of delirium? or was it a line? he can't quite decide what fits...

until he can, and his expression slackens quite suddenly into an Oh of understanding. ]

Yeah. Think so, a bit. [ John's spent so long here that if there's any resistance to be had, he's apparently developed it. barely even registers anymore that there might once have been any sort of a struggle associated with being here regularly.

ah. oh. the pieces slot into place.

horny. that's it, isn't it. he's not unwell, he's just affected. John doesn't ask the question. instead he gestures to the oxblood leather sofa sitting against one office wall. the whole place is scattered through with bits of furniture from the rest of Shades Darker, interspersed with the cool metal of medical storage units and the examination table: it's a room that still manages to maintain the establishment's aesthetic for all that John's left his stamp in smaller ways and clinical necessities in larger ones. the doctor's office may just be the doctor's office, but it's important that people still remember who's footing the bill - especially when, more often than not, the hand that pays the doctor is the same hand that caused the visit. ]

Come and sit down. I can get you some water?

[ if he wants some. ]

Edited (I forgot to hit the send button about 20 years ago, amazing) 2018-02-04 00:11 (UTC)

[ there's some measure of relief in john's expression of understanding, in not having to verbalise it any further than this, but there's also some — not shame or mortification, nothing so extreme, but something in that direction regardless at having to admit it at all.

he takes another deep breath and settles into the sofa john's gestured to. it's a small mercy brought on by old age and decades of exercising control that he isn't hard, that lust is only squirming in his stomach instead of showing outwardly, or at least not too obviously. ]

I would appreciate that.

[ god, he wants to touch john. ]

'Course. Wait here, I'll be back in a second.

[ and John absents himself, just briefly, heads to the bar to make sure the water's iced. on the way back he informs a few people he's busy, to knock if it's an emergency: usually John keeps an open door policy, bored as he regularly is, but the last thing Thomas'll need is half the brothel wandering through for a chat when he's trying to cool down.

slipping back into his office, switching the little "The doctor is:" sign on the outside of the door (usually defunct, he doesn't tend to bother with privacy when patching up a client who's just been dragged bodily in through the place) to OUT as he does, John closes the door behind him once again and shuts out the rest of the place.

he crosses to Thomas, pulls over a side table and sets his water down then perches himself on the arm of the sofa. ]

You get used to it.

[ a sympathetic consolation that does next to nothing to really help Thomas now. ]

[ thomas waits, focusing on his breathing. the absence of anyone else around him helps clear his mind, but it doesn't make any of the urges to touch, to feel, to be touched go away — and when john returns, setting down the water and perching himself on the arm of the sofa, thomas has to swallows against the want that surges up again.

for a moment, he closes his eyes. then he makes himself reach for the water, taking a sip and another. ]

I certainly hope so.

[ this is all very unprofessional and not a tenable situation. ]

It no longer affects you?

[ the tone John keeps as he answers Thomas' question is conversational, light. can't be the most comfortable situation to find yourself in, all things considered, and keeping the conversation ticking along like nothing's amiss is about the best way he can think to alleviate some of the discomfort of it. because nothing is amiss, really. there's nothing surprising about anyone finding themselves a bit hot and bothered after an enforced patrol of the RLD. ]

Not really, no.

[ John thinks on it for a second, trying to remember the last time it did. he's reminded of a man who once told him that working in a car dealership is like working at a sweet factory: start picking at the licorice allsorts and there's no telling where it stops. he huffs out an amused breath - yeah, that about sums it up. ]

Spend all night most nights in a brothel and you can either end up a broke sex addict or find a way to get past it.

[ then again, ] Easy for me to say. I'm never out there in peak hours and I spend most of my time shut up in here. I don't envy you your rounds.

[ there's considerably less discomfort now, here. what's left is because of the disparity between their current states, john calm and casual, unaffected, while thomas is still struggling to keep his hands loosely clad on his legs, to remain sitting straight. what is gone is the discomfort of needing to ascertain whether being affected like this will make him do something he wouldn't ordinarily do, wouldn't ordinarily want.

he knows he wants to sleep with john with or without the red light district's effects. it makes things easier, even if he still forces himself to remain still, not to let his body tip toward john's. ]

If you have any suggestions for how to get past it, I am all ears.

[ John's face scrunches - actually, he doesn't. the way it must have worked for him is prolonged exposure, but in here he's not actually that exposed. John's experience of a night in the red light district compared with what Thomas' must be is a whole different kettle of fish. ]

Carry around a picture of someone's grandma?

[ he looks as apologetic as he sounds, with that one. and.. actually, another thought comes to mind, that thought being more sex outside of work hours, and he's about to suggest it when suddenly it occurs to him that he happens to be one such possible source. and here he glances away before glancing back, swiping a nervous hand at his neck.

he's not usually quite this straightforward outside of flirtation. ] —We can - [ a rough clearing of his throat, ] Meet up more often. If you like. Might help a bit.

I'm afraid I don't.

[ the comment gets a smile from thomas, at least. it's not quite gallow's humour, but perhaps its younger cousin twice removed. something of the sort.

john continues, though, and thomas' breath catches when john clears his throat. he can't bring himself to look away from john's face. from john's lips. his mind provides images that are really, really not helping, memories of john pushing him against a wall, crowding against him, of john's lips against his, of john pushing into him.

he shifts his weight a little, chest tight. ]

Seeing you doesn't precisely lessen the effect. [ a compliment of sorts and an honest admission. an out for john, too, if he didn't mean to offer anything beyond conversation. ]

[ the answer gets John looking back at Thomas, tucks his mouth up at its corner. it's a compliment he'll take - and one that, given the circumstances, injects heat at the top of his spine that goes rolling slowly downward.

he nods. acknowledges the out, but doesn't take it. ]

Yeah. [ I know. ] Might be good to keep active outside of work hours. Might lessen the need a bit when you're out on patrol, if you know it won't be long...

[ until the next time he can indulge. it is, simply, an outright offer of regular sex. ]

[ it's an outright offer of regular sex — an offer that would have thomas considering it seriously while also making heat spark up his spine ordinarily. right now, he finds himself unable to truly consider it, focus taking up by keeping himself from reacting too strongly, too forcefully.

when he trusts himself to move at all, it is to reach out, to trace two fingers over the back of john's hand. he nods, once and then again more decisively. ]

Thank you.

[ and then he leans in for a kiss. ]

[ the touch is fine. it has John's chest expand and fizz but it's fine—

then Thomas is leaning in, and that's a surprise, and maybe he shouldn't be quite so quick to meet him but he is, and he does, and the kiss John indulges in is - brief. there's no trace of hesitation in it, just considerably more control than he imagines Thomas is going to be capable of if he offers too much back. he came here to cool down, not heat up. so John's careful to cut them off at the pass, breaking away after just a second or two, thumb now hooked over Thomas' fingers.

he doesn't pull back far, just enough to be able to talk to him. ]

Not sure this is what they're paying you for.

[ it's a playful chiding, but it's also a reminder that Thomas came here to find refuge from the heat building in him, not to encourage it. that he's got places to be that aren't in this room, and that he's not making things any easier for himself in standing a chance of getting back out on the street any time soon by kissing a man he self-confessedly finds to exacerbate the problem. ]

Edited 2018-02-04 15:11 (UTC)

It isn't.

[ thomas admits it, forcing himself back down, though he can't bring himself to try and pull his hand back. he lifts the other one to his face instead, a first clear indication just how affected he is, how frayed his control had to get before he sought refuge with john.

his chest still feels too tight. ]

But I doubt I will be of much use in my current state. [ another admission. it's also as close as he'll come to saying please right now, as close as he'll get to admitting that john's proposed remedy is sorely needed right now. being near john exacerbates the problem.

a hard fuck, pardon his french, might solve it. at least temporarily. isn't that what john has just suggested? ]

[ it's the first indication John has that he's opened a Pandora's box. that thought in and of itself creeps out of the heat already moving down his spine to wrap around his gut, squeeze intermittently, and he's still for a long time. thinking, breathing. breaths shallower than they were a moment ago. eyes darker.

then, slowly, he extricates himself and stands. walks away, over to the door - and turns the lock.

neither one of them are being paid for this. but what nobody walks in on won't hurt them.

turning back to Thomas, hand still on the lock, John looks to him for approval. just to make sure he didn't misread what was being said. ]

[ john walks away and for a moment, thomas thinks that he's asked for too much. he wouldn't blame john for it at all if that were to be the case. he would apologise and leave and not return, most likely — it is not that he is ashamed of the fact that he wants, that he needs, but he would be ashamed if it were to be a burden or a bother for someone else.

but john turns the lock and looks at him, gaze heavy, and thomas' breath catches again. he shifts, legs falling open a little, the stiffness seeping out of his posture. ]

John.

[ he doesn't nod, doesn't offer approval or pleas beyond the roughness, the unmasked want in his voice. ]

[ John. just that. it's always his bloody name, isn't it, so plain in general, that gets him moving when it comes down to it. his name, sounding like it means something. sounding like it just might be vital.

John inspects him for a moment, taking in the man sat opposite, the way his posture forms a silent gift, how well he's dressed, how neat he is - how long will it take to cause some disarray? should he, or should he try to leave him as intact as he can? he's got a job to do after this, after all.

the distance between John and Thomas is covered without haste, taking his time to cross the space, decide on the best approach. close enough and John sinks, not far, enough to rest his knee on the sofa cushion, to plant his hand into the backrest while the other catches Thomas under the chin, tilts his head back so John can bend over him to press their mouths together, firm and fast. ]

[ thomas forces himself to stay still, to remain still. it's a close thing, he barely doesn't manage it, but john is moving, even if it isn't with the haste or urgency thomas feels — and then john holds himself above thomas, his mouth covering thomas' and john's fingers under his chin and the last of thomas' resolve crumbles.

he moans, the sound deep and low, dragged from him despite his intentions, eyes closing and face tipping up to meet john's lips. at the same time, his hands settle on john, one at the hip and the other at his back, exerting some pressure, wanting john closer, needing john's weight on top of him.

he already feels undone. ]

[ Thomas moans and John grins into their met mouths. it might not be the worst place for it, but this place has ears. he draws his face back even as his body acquiesces to Thomas' touch, finding ways and places to press without ending up in a heap in his lap. ] Nobody's going to be very happy with me if they find out I'm fucking a Guardsman in office hours.

[ people around here get paid for sex and companionship. John gets paid to keep his office door open in readiness for any troublesome clientele who've been accordingly dealt with. neither of these roles are served by John locking himself away with a man who's come through Shades Darker looking to find relief.

chances are nobody will care overmuch - unless it gets back to his boss. even then, she's unlikely to be too worried. but he cares, about his reputation if nothing else. and Thomas' too. ]

How are you at keeping quiet?

[ if thomas looked feverish before, he thinks he certainly must, now. he feels it, hot and like his skin is too tight, heat high in his cheeks and his throat dry. kissing john helps, but at the same time, it strokes the flames higher.

he drags in a shuddering breath. fucking a guardsman — he wants that. the part where he's being fucked. ]

I'll manage. [ he says after a moment, not entirely without humour. it's not something he needs to think about, really. he is more than capable of keeping quiet, even in this. once upon a time, it had been much more of a necessity than it is now. no, the time between john's question and thomas' answer is simply because john is close, pressing in, grinning like that. because john dangled the prospect of what he wants in front of him and focusing on anything beyond it is somewhat difficult, right now. ]

[ that's good enough for John. and even without his having made any effort towards it, Thomas is already looking some sort of a state: heated, yearning. it lures his mouth back into a kiss without much further thought paid to who might hear them later, and his hand trips from Thomas' jaw down to his neckline, loosening his tie. ]

[ john's hand loosens his tie and thomas instinctively tips his head back, baring his neck to john, hips pushing up at the same time. he swallows the moan that threatens to escape when he finds some purchase and friction against john's body. ]

If you wouldn't mind, [ he starts, swallows, closing his eyes for a moment. ] I'd quite like it if you fucked me again.

[ please and soon. but that goes unsaid. ]

[ and there he is, laughing again, the sound thick and high and born of shock. Jesus. fuck coming from Thomas still isn't something he's over, the incongruence of it, the contradiction between the stark roughness of that word and his suitjackets and his ties— but when that's amplified by if you wouldn't mind -

phrased as though there's any chance of him having an issue or a conflict of calendar, like it might be inconvenient somehow. ]

You can't just if you wouldn't mind me.

[ when you're asking him to fuck you. but John's mouth is already following off down Thomas' throat. no. no, he wouldn't mind. because as funny as that was, it was also fucking hot. John thinks back on it with the distance of a few second's hindsight and I'd quite like it if you fucked me again has his voice rumble hoarsely in his chest. ]

I suppose it's not too much hassle.

[ see what he means, Thomas? there's humour in it, low and rough as it is, and he abandons the trail of lips he's winding down the column of Thomas' throat so he can pull back, sliding half off the sofa and back to his feet but not letting go of the tie still loosely caught about Thomas' neck, giving it an encouraging tug (hang tight, he's coming back) before releasing him and withdrawing from him altogether.

if they're going to take it as far as that, they're going to need some supplies. helpfully, they're in a doctor's office at your friendly neighbourhood brothel, and he's nothing if not well stocked. ]

Edited 2018-02-05 20:46 (UTC)

Well —

[ thomas starts, perhaps in defence of his choice of words, but john is laughing, trailing kisses down his throat, the laughter and his voice when he speaks both a low rumble and oh. oh, that is frightfully attractive. as is the way john tugs at his tie for a moment.

it's only john's how are you at keeping quiet? that stops thomas from letting out a noise of protest when john gets up. ]

That's good. [ not too much hassle. that is good, yes. and with the distance, his brain kicks in enough to suggest why john's gotten up, what a likely reason is. why john is currently picking something out of a drawer. thomas takes the opportunity to set his tie aside and shrug out of his suit jacket, hanging it over the back of the sofa with more care than he feels he has in him. ]

[ John doesn't take long. lube and protection go set down on his desk, and with it acquired he watches Thomas hang his jacket carefully over the back of the sofa. that settles that. so long as he's got the means of maintaining some sort of a sense of a neat outer appearance, John's not going to be too cautious about the rest of him. it was his decision to come here. and anyway, maybe it'll do him some good to look like he's already been seen to when he goes back out there.

stepping back out from behind his desk, John holds his hand out to Thomas. as soon as he's taken it, as soon as he's up and close, John'll close what meagre space there is between them, demanding a kiss with a hand to the back of Thomas' neck to guide him down as John presses his thigh between Thomas' legs, other hand at Thomas' arse to pull them flush together. ]

( open ) meet me in the alleyway

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