nysalogs | ( open ) meet me in the alleyway

[ 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. ]

[ thomas will likely put himself back together as neatly as before, or as close to it as he can manage it, before leaving here, but right now, that is far from his mind. right now, he is focused entirely on the way john approaches him, the way he holds out his hands, not demanding but in a clear request. it's not something thomas wants to deny him. not now, maybe not ever. so he takes john's hands, moving toward him and then letting him guide thomas into another kiss.

he doesn't moan when john's thigh presses between his legs, but his breath catches audibly despite the kiss, hips rolling against john's. he might have managed to control himself well enough until he'd gotten here, but now there is no hiding that he's hard and getting harder, blood flow directed to his cock and the friction of john's leg against him, the pleasure of john's hands on his arse pulling him closer only serve to make him fill out even more. ]

Edited 2018-02-09 09:12 (UTC)

[ there we go. there.

it's still unfamiliar turf, the comparative firmness of a man pressed up to him, differences in height and shape not what he's used to. sex is an area he's educated himself in well enough, out of the classroom moreso than in it, but this is an area of little practical research for John. his mind's a minor warzone on the topic, instinct tugging this way and that whenever he questions himself, but when it comes down to it his body knows what it wants. Thomas' body knows, too. and John, in this, is a good listener. he's had years to get better at that.

John deepens the kiss, keeps things languid. Thomas needs more than what he's getting, that's obvious, but there are a few things to cover between here and there and not all of them sit within the realms of John's previous experience - he's going to have to endure a steady progression of things for a while longer anyway, might as well not rush things now. (more to the point, it's a very special sort of feeling to have Thomas Nightingale, of all possible people, filling out against you, cock caught behind fabric and pressing into your hip crease.) John's hips roll back, trying to fall into some sort of a rhythm with Thomas, his breath shuddering into Thomas' mouth a secondary proof that he's far from unaffected. ]

[ the truth of it is that thomas is glad for john's lack of impatience, the fact that there will be a steady progression of things here. it makes matters feel less like a fevered encounter in the back of a brothel and more like something he might share with john for no reason other than because they want to.

it means that john will have time to get on board, that thomas won't need to worry, after this, that he somehow made john do something that he didn't want to do, that he didn't feel. that john is doing this as a kindness to him rather than because he wants to.

but no — john is far from unaffected and it prompts a smile against john's lips from him, small and breathless though it may be. ]

( open ) meet me in the alleyway

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