[ david has some complaints about being shoved like this, but that falls by the wayside a little when his back hits the wall and suddenly evan's kissing him again. touching him, which david has significantly less complaints about. ]
[ he leans into it, kissing evan back just as hard and rough, the hand at evan's hip sliding under his shirt, around to his back. he's not exactly a fan of being pinned against the wall like this-- well, that's not exactly true, but either way it can wait a little, he decides, using that hand to pull evan closer instead. ]
[ he shouldn't be doing this and he knows it, even drunk as he is. but that's the point of getting drunk, isn't it? the actual point. doing stupid shit. losing control in a more socially acceptable way than beating someone to death. he hates david and he hates this, but that gives it all a more desperate edge.
he snarls something wordless into the kiss when david gets a hand on his back but doesn't do anything else, except keep his hands moving across the scars on david's chest, the tattoos where they are, the muscles, anything. whatever he can get his hands on.
he pushes david back harder against the wall, a knee finding its way between his, grinding against him to get any kind of sensation going. it's not going to take long. even drunk as he is, he knows that, and the alcohol leaves a haze that makes that just a slight hurdle instead of something embarrassing to realize. ]
[ david leans back against the wall, uses it for leverage to grind a little harder against evan. similarly, it's not going to take long for things to move, drunk and angry and wound up as he is, but it's barely even on his mind right now. ]
[ he's far more interested in pushing evan's shirt up as much as he can, bunching it up under his arms so he has space to drag his hands along his skin, feeling out the curves and lines of his muscles and the dips and bumps of his scars. ]
[ there's more scars on his back than on his front, or anywhere else - a lot more, less obvious lower down but still significant. david's roaming hands make him clamp his elbows against his ribs, to keep the shirt from getting too much higher. it's a habit. he wouldn't be able to explain it accurately if asked why. especially not now that he's this drunk.
it's the most he prevents, though, not stopping david's hands from moving or him from grinding back or even breaking the kiss except to bite a little more. this almost seems like enough. like if he just goes far enough he'll be able to get off and not worry about anything else, at least for as long as it takes him to sober up. he manages to get a hand down to david's belt, but that's where it stops, unncertain. as if even drunk he's not sure if he actually wants to take it this far. ]
[ it's a little confusing, the way evan stops him pushing his shirt up too far, but david doesn't fight it. doesn't push him. bites him back, growls into the kiss, drags blunt nails down evan's back like he can't decide if he wants to feel him out or tear him open. ]
[ and then evan hesitates. david can't really blame him, part of him would too if he allowed himself even a second to think about what he's doing, but he doesn't. takes that hesitation as an opportunity to turn this around, pushes evan back to turn them around and shove evan against the wall. he moves quick, in his head it's to beat out evan's hesitation, his temper, but in reality it's probably more for his own benefit. because the second he actually thinks about what the fuck he's doing, he's done. he has to stop. leave. get the fuck away and never think about this again. ]
[ like evan moments earlier, david drops his hands to evan's belt, but he doesn't stop. lets that brash nature of his cover for uncertainty like he always has in every other moment of his life, especially when he sinks to his knees, eyes forward instead of chancing a glance up at evan's face, focused on undoing his belt and pants because if he's gonna do this, he might as well do one of the things he actually fucking misses. ]
[ david pushes him back, distracting him. he loses his grip on his belt but when he hits the wall, their positions reversed, he's ready to be angry again. ready to fight. ready to get them both on the floor, brawling for dominance.
that only lasts about as long as it takes for david to drop to his knees, and suddenly all the anger evaporates - well, most of it - because even if he hates david he also recognizes who's the one on his knees, and knows what that means he's planning on. he doesn't argue or fight when david pulls at his belt, his zipper, tugs at his pants. instead his hands move almost of their own accord, almost to help. not that david needs it.
the anxiety and uncertainty are still there, crowding at the forefront of his mind, but they're fighting the alcohol and the sudden lust that surged up out of the darkness. and right now, those are both a lot more powerful. ]
[ it's been a long time since he's done this, not that it's exactly difficult or complicated to do, but it's still a bit of a shock to the system once he finally manages to get everything open and ends up eye-to-eye, as it were, with evan's dick. ]
[ he does hesitate briefly, just a moment before he's taking evan into his mouth with a low, quiet noise. one hand braced at evan's hip, the other wrapped around him while david slowly gets started. ]
[ this isn't unfamiliar. he might, if he tries, forget who it is that's doing it, but that's hard to do because even if his whole body both seizes up and then relaxes, even if he hits his head against the wall a little too hard, even if his eyes shut and he tries to breathe normally, he can feel david's hand hand on his hip. around him. hear him, faint though it is.
and feel how short his hair is when evan's own hands, almost without him realizing it, find their way into his hair, curling against his scalp, trying to grab what isn't really there to grab. it's fine. he still tries. and he doesn't argue, or fight, or make some kind of comment. he's too drunk for that anyway. ]
[ he was expecting evan to try and control this somehow, so it's a welcome surprise that it seems like he's going to let david set the pace here. that's what he assumes until he feels fingers in his hair, goes still for a second until it registers that there's no attempt to pull him, at least not yet. notes too, the lack of shitty comment, which david sure as hell isn't going to complain about. ]
[ he's not looking to be here a long time, picking up the pace once he gets comfortable, uses his hand to work what he can't reach with his mouth. a couple of involuntary noises slip out; soft groans that hint that this is doing plenty for david, even if he's not actively getting off on it. ]
[ evan's not unfamiliar with this, despite everything, so he knows pretty quickly that this - isn't bad. even drunk, he won't say it's good, at least not yet. not while the anger and adrenaline are still simmering under everything. not while he can remember it's david king doing this.
it pisses him off somewhere deep inside that it is david king doing this. that the time when he finally lets those walls collapse it's with him, of all people. but who else was it ever going to be? nobody else can be trusted not to rat him out or spread stories. david's got as much at stake as he does. he knows that much at this point.
his grip in david's hair tightens because despite what he might be thinking, what his body knows is closer to accurate. he lets out a slow, careful breath, refusing to make a real sound but the way he shifts closer to david, the way his fingers curl and clutch, tell another story.
it's not going to be more than a few minutes here, but he's got enough stamina, even drunk, to hold up. for the moment. ]
[ david makes a disgruntled noise at the way evan's grip tightens in his hair, tenses briefly and contemplates reaching up to grab his wrist and try to pull it away, but he thinks that would probably interrupt things here. besides which, there's something satisfying in getting that response, especially considering evan insists on being a stoic fuck about the whole thing. ]
[ stubbornly, he doesn't let his thoughts drift anywhere else. (probably because he'd have a panic attack if he did and that's the last thing anyone wants to do with a dick in their mouth.) focuses on the sensation of evan in his mouth instead, on listening to him breathe. moves a little faster, silently wishes he could take him deeper and then tries not to wonder why the fuck he thought that. ]
[ thoughts, good and bad, are rapidly evaporating in evan's head. he may not be able to ignore where he is and who's doing this, but he can ignore everything else in favor of what he's feeling.
his hips press a little more against david, trying to get more but not with any real intent. he's too drunk to be that demanding. he makes a thin, hoarse noise, something more a breath than a sound, his breathing troubled and his legs ready to give out if he lets them. his fingers tighten and loosen their grip, but there's less of the latter than the former as david keeps going.
he only lasts a few minutes before he makes a sharper sound - actually a sound, but nothing that anyone's going to hear through the walls - and his fingers scrape hard against david's scalp as he comes. he's not letting him go, at the very least, not until he's good and done. ]
[ he's paying enough attention that he recognises the noise for what it is and tries to pull back before evan finishes, uses the hand he has curled around his hip to shove him back, but there's just not much space or time for him to work with there. maybe he should've been more assertive about keeping evan's hands out of his hair, but his attention was elsewhere. extremely focused on it, in fact. he's not going to think about it. ]
[ nor is he going to stay here on his knees forever. he can reason that having the taste in his mouth is better than having the smell on his skin, but beyond making evan come, david doesn't really care about his part in this. barely even waits for him to finish before he pulls back more aggressively this time, if evan's grip is still tight enough for him to lose some hair, david doesn't even seem to care about it. ]
[ he pushes up to his feet and ambles toward the sink so he can spit in it, pours himself a fresh glass of liquor to gargle and spit that too. and then drink the rest. ]
[ evan manages to stay up when david pulls away, but only out of sheer, overwhelming spite against not just david, but the whole world. he leans his head back against the wall and catches his breath, opening his eyes in time to see david spit in the sink.
that he did it in the sink irritates him more than that he did it at all, but he's too drunk and blitzed out of his mind to make a serious complaint. he just glowers, and after a few long seconds realizes his dick is still out and pulls himself back together.
he does up his belt and then he realizes what just happened, which leaves him a little more sober than he was before. he has no idea what to do, or say. nothing in him wants to return the favor, but a part of him feels like now he owes david. which is stupid. he didn't make any demands. david did all that on his own. ]
[ for some moments, david's fairly satisfied with everything, a job well done, etc. but that fades pretty fucking fast. he sees evan out of the corner of his eye and wonders why he did that, why he just did any of this. what, some guy finds out he likes dick and that's enough for him to get on his knees and open wide? ]
[ david puts the empty glass down, trying not to look as shaken as he feels, which really isn't helped any by the discomfort of being hard as hell in his pants, but it'll go away. ]
[ wordlessly, he grabs his shirt off the side and pulls it back on. they're probably done here, he can't imagine evan's gonna want him to stick around at all and fuck knows david wants to get as far away from here as fucking possible as soon as possible. ]
[ the silence drags out. one of them has to break it eventually. they can't just stand here forever, mostly drunk and incredibly awkward.
david pulls his shirt back on, which is less of a relief now than it would have been fifteen minutes ago. maybe he should have just sucked up and beaten david unconscious. he's never had a problem beating up someone who wasn't wearing a shirt before. but - they didn't know. and he wasn't thinking like that. it's different. he has to believe that.
finally, before the tension can rip them both apart, he shoves away from the wall and grabs the vodka. pours himself another glass without looking at david, considers his drunk options, and tries not to sound as weak as he feels when he speaks. ]
[ he basically grunts it while he makes some attempt to sort himself out, tucks his shirt in (and awkwardly turns away to adjust himself in his pants so things aren't so obvious,) and does up those top few buttons, pushes his hands through his hair to make some attempt to fix what evan did to it. ]
I, uh...
[ david trails off, trying to find the words he wants to say, but words are difficult right now. we probably shouldn't go drinking again, is what he wants to say because this is dangerous. it started off dangerous but now this is approaching 'handing evan the nuclear launch codes to ruin his life' levels of fucked and he can't risk that. what if somebody saw? what if this shitty little apartment had security cameras, or some perv was at the kitchen window, watching him suck off evan fucking macmillan? yeah, evan might catch some heat, but that's nothing compared to what it would do to him. his reputation. ]
[ how's he supposed to articulate any of that? how can he do it without letting slip the extremely potent fear that surges through him at the thought of it? ]
[ he can't. so david shakes his head and waves it off. he's just drunk, that's all, don't worry about it. ]
Nah, nevermind. [ he grabs his jacket off the counter. ] See you around.
[ he can't look at david's face, but he can look in his general direction, and evan can see the uncertainty there. just as much as is in him. over what to do next and how the hell any of this is going to keep going.
the fear and dread will really hit him later, once he's sober. it'll strike like a knife to the gut when he takes a shower, because this is going to be the first thing he thinks about. right now, he just fiddles with the glass, not sure what to think or say, listening to the unspoken words between them. david's own fear and desperation.
he saw, when david was standing, the hint of what that did for him. it's harder to see now - not that he's looking.
evan nods wordlessly at david's cut-off goodbye and doesn't watch him go. he waits, though, until the door is shut and the footsteps fade out and then a few minutes after that before he sets down the glass and sinks back down to the floor, trying to rationalize everything and failing miserably.
[ david, for his part, doesn't linger. just throws on his jacket and leaves like this is all perfectly casual and normal, like the hair on the back of his neck isn't all raised in panic, like he isn't hyper aware of cold sweat beading and trailing down his back. ]
[ when the door closes behind him, david stops to catch his bearings. leans back against it and takes a deep breath as he rubs his face with both hands, swears under his breath — a little louder than he would if he were in full control of himself, and isn't that just the problem? maybe he should quit drinking — he won't, but the thought does occur to him as he's stood there. ]
[ after some moments spent just centering himself, david fumbles his phone out his pocket and makes a call. something to distract, keep him present instead of going insane over hypothetical futures where his life's ruined, and if that distraction comes with tits and always has at least one drug on hand, who could really blame him for that right now? ]
[ it's not really what he wants, but it'll do the trick. has been doing the trick for 20-odd years now. at least that's how david rationalises it as he slips easily into a smoother headspace when she picks up. it doesn't really cross his mind as he starts to walk away, whether or not evan can hear him making a booty call right now. it's not like evan was going to help him out here anyway-- it's not like david wanted him to. ]
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hardlydead) wrote2024-05-20 10:36 pm
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[ he leans into it, kissing evan back just as hard and rough, the hand at evan's hip sliding under his shirt, around to his back. he's not exactly a fan of being pinned against the wall like this-- well, that's not exactly true, but either way it can wait a little, he decides, using that hand to pull evan closer instead. ]
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he snarls something wordless into the kiss when david gets a hand on his back but doesn't do anything else, except keep his hands moving across the scars on david's chest, the tattoos where they are, the muscles, anything. whatever he can get his hands on.
he pushes david back harder against the wall, a knee finding its way between his, grinding against him to get any kind of sensation going. it's not going to take long. even drunk as he is, he knows that, and the alcohol leaves a haze that makes that just a slight hurdle instead of something embarrassing to realize. ]
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[ he's far more interested in pushing evan's shirt up as much as he can, bunching it up under his arms so he has space to drag his hands along his skin, feeling out the curves and lines of his muscles and the dips and bumps of his scars. ]
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it's the most he prevents, though, not stopping david's hands from moving or him from grinding back or even breaking the kiss except to bite a little more. this almost seems like enough. like if he just goes far enough he'll be able to get off and not worry about anything else, at least for as long as it takes him to sober up. he manages to get a hand down to david's belt, but that's where it stops, unncertain. as if even drunk he's not sure if he actually wants to take it this far. ]
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[ and then evan hesitates. david can't really blame him, part of him would too if he allowed himself even a second to think about what he's doing, but he doesn't. takes that hesitation as an opportunity to turn this around, pushes evan back to turn them around and shove evan against the wall. he moves quick, in his head it's to beat out evan's hesitation, his temper, but in reality it's probably more for his own benefit. because the second he actually thinks about what the fuck he's doing, he's done. he has to stop. leave. get the fuck away and never think about this again. ]
[ like evan moments earlier, david drops his hands to evan's belt, but he doesn't stop. lets that brash nature of his cover for uncertainty like he always has in every other moment of his life, especially when he sinks to his knees, eyes forward instead of chancing a glance up at evan's face, focused on undoing his belt and pants because if he's gonna do this, he might as well do one of the things he actually fucking misses. ]
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that only lasts about as long as it takes for david to drop to his knees, and suddenly all the anger evaporates - well, most of it - because even if he hates david he also recognizes who's the one on his knees, and knows what that means he's planning on. he doesn't argue or fight when david pulls at his belt, his zipper, tugs at his pants. instead his hands move almost of their own accord, almost to help. not that david needs it.
the anxiety and uncertainty are still there, crowding at the forefront of his mind, but they're fighting the alcohol and the sudden lust that surged up out of the darkness. and right now, those are both a lot more powerful. ]
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[ he does hesitate briefly,
just a moment before he's taking evan into his mouth with a low, quiet noise. one hand braced at evan's hip, the other wrapped around him while david slowly gets started. ]
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and feel how short his hair is when evan's own hands, almost without him realizing it, find their way into his hair, curling against his scalp, trying to grab what isn't really there to grab. it's fine. he still tries. and he doesn't argue, or fight, or make some kind of comment. he's too drunk for that anyway. ]
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going to complain about. ]
[ he's not looking to be here a long time, picking up the pace once he gets comfortable, uses his hand to work what he can't reach with his mouth. a couple of involuntary noises slip out; soft groans that hint that this is doing plenty for david, even if he's not actively getting off on it. ]
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it pisses him off somewhere deep inside that it is david king doing this. that the time when he finally lets those walls collapse it's with him, of all people. but who else was it ever going to be? nobody else can be trusted not to rat him out or spread stories. david's got as much at stake as he does. he knows that much at this point.
his grip in david's hair tightens because despite what he might be thinking, what his body knows is closer to accurate. he lets out a slow, careful breath, refusing to make a real sound but the way he shifts closer to david, the way his fingers curl and clutch, tell another story.
it's not going to be more than a few minutes here, but he's got enough stamina, even drunk, to hold up. for the moment. ]
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[ stubbornly, he doesn't let his thoughts drift anywhere else. (probably because he'd have a panic attack if he did and that's the last thing anyone wants to do with a dick in their mouth.) focuses on the sensation of evan in his mouth instead, on listening to him breathe. moves a little faster, silently wishes he could take him deeper and then tries not to wonder why the fuck he thought that. ]
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his hips press a little more against david, trying to get more but not with any real intent. he's too drunk to be that demanding. he makes a thin, hoarse noise, something more a breath than a sound, his breathing troubled and his legs ready to give out if he lets them. his fingers tighten and loosen their grip, but there's less of the latter than the former as david keeps going.
he only lasts a few minutes before he makes a sharper sound - actually a sound, but nothing that anyone's going to hear through the walls - and his fingers scrape hard against david's scalp as he comes. he's not letting him go, at the very least, not until he's good and done. ]
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[ nor is he going to stay here on his knees forever. he can reason that having the taste in his mouth is better than having the smell on his skin, but beyond making evan come, david doesn't really care about his part in this. barely even waits for him to finish before he pulls back more aggressively this time, if evan's grip is still tight enough for him to lose some hair, david doesn't even seem to care about it. ]
[ he pushes up to his feet and ambles toward the sink so he can spit in it, pours himself a fresh glass of liquor to gargle and spit that too. and then drink the rest. ]
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that he did it in the sink irritates him more than that he did it at all, but he's too drunk and blitzed out of his mind to make a serious complaint. he just glowers, and after a few long seconds realizes his dick is still out and pulls himself back together.
he does up his belt and then he realizes what just happened, which leaves him a little more sober than he was before. he has no idea what to do, or say. nothing in him wants to return the favor, but a part of him feels like now he owes david. which is stupid. he didn't make any demands. david did all that on his own. ]
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[ david puts the empty glass down, trying not to look as shaken as he feels, which really isn't helped any by the discomfort of being hard as hell in his pants, but it'll go away. ]
[ wordlessly, he grabs his shirt off the side and pulls it back on. they're probably done here, he can't imagine evan's gonna want him to stick around at all and fuck knows david wants to get as far away from here as fucking possible as soon as possible. ]
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david pulls his shirt back on, which is less of a relief now than it would have been fifteen minutes ago. maybe he should have just sucked up and beaten david unconscious. he's never had a problem beating up someone who wasn't wearing a shirt before. but - they didn't know. and he wasn't thinking like that. it's different. he has to believe that.
finally, before the tension can rip them both apart, he shoves away from the wall and grabs the vodka. pours himself another glass without looking at david, considers his drunk options, and tries not to sound as weak as he feels when he speaks. ]
Back door's always unlocked.
[ it doesn't work. ]
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[ he basically grunts it while he makes some attempt to sort himself out, tucks his shirt in (and awkwardly turns away to adjust himself in his pants so things aren't so obvious,) and does up those top few buttons, pushes his hands through his hair to make some attempt to fix what evan did to it. ]
I, uh...
[ david trails off, trying to find the words he wants to say, but words are difficult right now. we probably shouldn't go drinking again, is what he wants to say because this is dangerous. it started off dangerous but now this is approaching 'handing evan the nuclear launch codes to ruin his life' levels of fucked and he can't risk that. what if somebody saw? what if this shitty little apartment had security cameras, or some perv was at the kitchen window, watching him suck off evan fucking macmillan? yeah, evan might catch some heat, but that's nothing compared to what it would do to him. his reputation. ]
[ how's he supposed to articulate any of that? how can he do it without letting slip the extremely potent fear that surges through him at the thought of it? ]
[ he can't. so david shakes his head and waves it off. he's just drunk, that's all, don't worry about it. ]
Nah, nevermind. [ he grabs his jacket off the counter. ] See you around.
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the fear and dread will really hit him later, once he's sober. it'll strike like a knife to the gut when he takes a shower, because this is going to be the first thing he thinks about. right now, he just fiddles with the glass, not sure what to think or say, listening to the unspoken words between them. david's own fear and desperation.
he saw, when david was standing, the hint of what that did for him. it's harder to see now - not that he's looking.
evan nods wordlessly at david's cut-off goodbye and doesn't watch him go. he waits, though, until the door is shut and the footsteps fade out and then a few minutes after that before he sets down the glass and sinks back down to the floor, trying to rationalize everything and failing miserably.
he's fucked, isn't he. permanently fucked. ]
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[ when the door closes behind him, david stops to catch his bearings. leans back against it and takes a deep breath as he rubs his face with both hands, swears under his breath — a little louder than he would if he were in full control of himself, and isn't that just the problem? maybe he should quit drinking — he won't,
but the thought does occur to him as he's stood there. ]
[ after some moments spent just centering himself, david fumbles his phone out his pocket and makes a call. something to distract, keep him present instead of going insane over hypothetical futures where his life's ruined, and if that distraction comes with tits and always has at least one drug on hand, who could really blame him for that right now? ]
[ it's not really what he wants, but it'll do the trick. has been doing the trick for 20-odd years now. at least that's how david rationalises it as he slips easily into a smoother headspace when she picks up. it doesn't really cross his mind as he starts to walk away, whether or not evan can hear him making a booty call right now. it's not like evan was going to help him out here anyway-- it's not like david wanted him to. ]