I'm calling it: "It's Method. Fuck, No. It's Improv."
RPS, David Boreanaz and Vincent Kartheiser. Warning: faux-Daddy!kink, drug use, and they aren't flossing between meals. BAD BOYS!!
Story picks up from here.
David walked to the bathroom, ran a cloth under the sink's tap, and then crossed back to the bed. Vince was still feeling the effects of his orgasm and being too high to notice. That is, until the cold rag flopped on his belly. He arched up hissing, and almost dropped his cigarette on the bed.
"Wash up, kid. We gotta lot of ground to cover tonight."
"The fuck are you doing?" The words out of Vince's mouth were jumbled as he bent over, washed his belly off, and tried to keep his smoke in his mouth while talking.
"It's almost 10:00. I have a car waiting downstairs. Gotta take my boy out on the town, don't I?"
"I'm not your fucking 'boy,' Dave." He stood up on wobbly legs and rooted around for a clean T-shirt.
"Sure came like it." David strode over to Vince, who was doing his best to ignore the taller man by becoming intensely interested in an imaginary hair on his shirt. David reached out, grabbed the boy's waistband and tugged him close. He leaned down, dragged his lips over the boy's ear lobe and whispered, "I have this thing. About sneaking around in public. It's my turn, anyway."
Judging from the lack of walking away, and the incredibly long drag off his smoke Vince took, all while David was rubbing his big, strong hand over the front of the boy's jeans... Yeah. Someone was going to be his boy tonight. David smirked, tickled his nose in Vince's long hair over the back of his ear, and gave the front of Vince's pants a light squeeze.
Vince was trying to maintain his space in the car. He was mashed against the far door, window cracked and cig hovering just underneath. At one point he answered a call. David took the phone away from him, barked, "He's working," and tossed it on the floor. David was sitting against the opposite door, one leg propped up on the bench seat, one hand resting suggestively in his lap. "Hey. Joss' orders," he replied when Vince looked pissed.
"You still holding?"
"What the fuck, Dave? I'm not liking this little night you've planned out."
"You still holding?"
A long drag followed by a pissed off exhale, one thin leg pumping up and down rapidly. "Yeah. But no more fucking coke for you. Makes you an ass."
Vince put his smoke back in his mouth, arched his torso upwards, and dug a small baggie out of his front pocket. He considered a few pills, took out three, and gave two to David. He took the remaining one himself. David watched him close his eyes, saw that he held the pill on his tongue for a few moments before swallowing, and followed suite.
Vince sighed, "Make sure we drink a fucking gallon of water, okay? Are we almost to the club? I feel like an idiot getting there so early. Man, no one shows up anywhere until 2 am."
"We aren't going to the club yet. Well, not that club. Hang on. We're here."
The limo pulled into a seedy, glass and grass filled parking lot and up to a ramshackle looking warehouse. There was a doorman at the front. He looked about 6' 5", over 250 pounds, shaved head with a tattoo of Pennywise the Clown over his entire skull. He looked like he could break a man in half one-handed. He nodded to David.
"You got your key?"
"Yeah. Heff says to come on in. Uh... button."
"Welcome to The Rabbit Hole, sirs. The hostess will remind you boys of the rules. My job is to enforce them. Any problem with that?"
"Absolutely not, right Vince?"
Vince looked like he had forgotten how to speak. "Uh, no, man. No problems from me."
"Good. Have a lovely trip."
David and Vince walked through the door and into the club. The bass was so loud from the sound system that Vince's chest rattled. Bright strobe lights swirled, spun, flashed, making seeing anything in the entrance way near impossible. Vince instinctively grabbed on to the back of David's jeans. He didn't want to get lost in this place. David walked up to the hostess stand, a few feet inside the club. A tall, nude woman in platform stillettos nodded at them and led them past the main stage, where a girl was hanging upside down on a pole, grinding her crotch. They passed the secondary stage where a man was bending another girl over a chair and spanking her with a riding crop. Through a doorway and past another staging area. The hostess continued past all of this to a door with a number 7 on it. She held the door open for the two men and followed them in, the door closing quietly behind her.
"Welcome to The Rabbit Hole's VIP room, gentlemen. Let me tell you of a few rules. You cannot touch the performers, under any circumstances. Unless you pay for it, that is. We are capitalists, after all. What you do to each other, well, we'll just let you work out a payment plan amongst yourselves. We encourage you to drink, to fuck, and to have a great time. My name is Honey. Should you need anything from me, please just push the button on the wall. Enjoy the show."
She turned and walked out of the room. Vince gaped at David. "Where the FUCK are we, dude? I don't pay for pussy."
"Shut up and sit back. You aren't paying for shit. Pour me a drink, would ya?" David gestured to his left with his chin as he held his hands up to light a smoke.
Vince, still a little blown from the drugs, shrugged and poured two glasses of whiskey, handed one to David and downed his in one gulp. "When in Rome, yeah?"
They sat in large, overstuffed chairs that faced a blank wall. Once Vince had sat down, the wall began to rise, revealing a glass window that looked onto a short stage. There was a young boy, about 18 or 19, naked, smooth chested and thin limbed. Light brown hair, longish and flopping over his eyes. He was leaning against the wall, one arm thrown over his head, the other lower, stroking himself. Vince sat back in his chair, smoke dangling from his lip, Adam's apple working up and down as he tried to swallow and bring moisture to his mouth. A taller, larger man appeared in the window. The man had on a long, black leather coat and dark jeans, and had short, spikey black hair. Vince turned to look at David and found him staring at him.
"Watch the show, Vince. Tell me what you think. I had it planned out especially for you."
The dark man savagely attacked the boy's neck, hand working over the boy's hand, still holding on to his erection. The boy's knees began to buckle; he was whimpering. The dark man kissed and licked a trail down to the boy's crotch, knelt before him, threw one leg over his leather-clad shoulder, and began to suck. Vince was sitting upright in his seat, not realizing he was rocking slightly, fingers gripping the padded arms of the chair. The dark man threw the boy's other leg over his shoulder. The boy had apparently grabbed a bar that was overhead, designed for just such a purpose. The stage then rotated 45 degrees. David and Vince had a complete view of the action.
"Touch me, Vince."
Vince's whole body turned in one movement with his head. In one fluid movement he turned on one foot and brought his whole body between David's legs. Vince braced himself with his hands on the arms of David's chair and leaned forward, slowly, tilted his head to the right slightly, parted his mouth and kissed David. That was what he had planned, but David had pulled back at the last minute.
"No. Touch me, Vince."
Still moving in a fog, Vince muttered to no one, "Yeah, right," and leaned over. He parted his lips and traced David's trousered cock with his open mouth. He slid his warm, moist lips up and down, over the silky material of David's pants. He let his hands off the chair arms and slid them up David's strong thighs, and up to the zipper keeping him doing his job properly.
"No. You're doing fine. I don't want you to touch me there, yet."
David's hands were working through Vince's hair, down his neck, over his shoulders and back up again, soothing the sting from his words. Somehow it made perfect sense. The noises coming from their floor show were penetrating his haze. Gasps, sloppy, wet sounds, a low moan, a hand pounding on a wall. Vince took his hands off David's thighs and slid them up and over taut belly muscles, down strong forearms, all the while never ceasing his stroking with his hot mouth. Once he licked the full length with his tongue amd David pulled on his hair sharply.
"Don't need a fucking wet spot."
But David had arched his back, rubbed one palm up and over Vince's forehead, into his hair, and groaned when Vince went back to his job. Vince was becoming desperate; he needed to get David off. It had to be equal between them, but there was no way he was going to get the older man to come with his goddamed pants on. The floor show was nearing its big finale, if the breathy screams were any indication. Vince rubbed the underneath of David's cock with one hand, still stroking with his mouth. Tight and hard behind, Vince knew he was getting close. He pulled away briefly, stared into David's face with imploring eyes and whined, "Come for me, Daddy."
David slammed one hand on the back of Vince's head, forcing his hot mouth back onto his erection and shuddered. Vince could taste the salty tang of come through the material. He slid his thin body up between David's legs and wrapped his arms around David's neck.
"I thought you'd like that."
David gripped the boy's hips in a painful hold, held him away and muttered, "You're gonna fucking pay for that. Oh, yeah, Daddy's gonna make you pay."
Later, Vince would swear that he hadn't gotten hot from that, that he hadn't gotten painfully hard as David crushed him to his chest and attacked his mouth, tongue stroking his own. Vince would swear up and down that he and David didn't have that kind of relationship, that David was a sweetheart kind of guy, and not the kind of guy he went for, anyway. But Vince was a fucking liar.
My brain hurts from bouncing amongst the fandoms and ratings. But it's a good hurt. *looks up brain yoga*
Got some Obi-Wan/Anakin coming up later today, for those interested...