"Do you ever stop looking at me?" Bobby asked idly, as he scanned the first set of photos the photographer had thoughtfully supplied them with. He was sprawled across what passed for a bed in their tiny hotel room, and he paused for a moment in his study to admire David as he stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. And right into his bathrobe, the bastard. Cheated of the view, he returned his attention sulkily to the photos.
It was touching, somehow, to see that in several of them David's eyes were on nothing but him. Touching, but revealing. "Do you? Stop looking at me?" Bobby repeated, more curious than he wanted to admit.
"No." David's hair was muffled beneath a towel as he dried his hair. He emerged a moment later, pink and adorably tousled.
"People will talk," Bobby said, amused. He collected the pictures and slipped them back into their envelope, more content with the real thing. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Small as their room was, it put David's crotch practically in his face. Not that he minded, and from David's amused expression as he peered down at him, Bobby guessed he didn't mind either.
"People already do. They did before we had so much as shared a kiss." David tilted his head curiously. "Do you mind?"
"Not really," Bobby admitted. David was right. People already did talk and always would. So long as David was looking and not touching, it was only talk. Although that one picture.... "But maybe you should at least keep your hands where they are visible?"
"Spoilsport!" It was entirely too easy to pull David into his lap, in spite of his mock grumbling and squirming. He'd lost a little weight, Bobby noted with a frown. All the traveling and his metabolism kept him whip-thin.
"You need to quit forgetting to eat," Bobby informed him tartly.
David gave him a deeply suspicious look. "Why? What are you fattening me up for?"
"Now, if I told you it wouldn't be a surprise," he leered. David expression showed clearly that he was unimpressed.
"Is this where I start on about how very large your teeth are?" he asked dryly.
"Not a chance. I have something MUCH larger for you." Bobby pulled David's ass hard against his crotch, rubbing against him and sighing as David wriggled obligingly.
"Robert, that is the most dreadful cliché I have ever heard you use."
"Just wait, I have a million of 'em."
Naturally, David was wearing boxer shorts underneath his robe. Just because Bobby had already seen him naked-- hell, had had most of those naked parts in his mouth and other various places from time to time-- well, that didn't mean he could walk around bare-assed beneath his robe, now did it? Of course not.
That was all right though, because it was even more fun to try and get them off without allowing David to actually stand. It was a good thing David was flexible, and he could shimmy like a Polynesian belly dancer Bobby had seen once, only with a little less to the hips. But Jesus, the way it felt! Every little wiggle and squirm as David worked them off sent a twist of flicking heat straight through his cock and up his spine. Bobby wasn't sure his heart could take this kind of torture until finally, David was kicking them aside and settling into his lap.
Bobby sighed in relief. It was a good thing he wasn't a real spy. One lap dance and he's spill it all. Probably tell all the secrets he knew, too.
Even better, David sprawled back against him, rocking his hips back suggestively, wheedling for the fucking he'd been silently asking for all day. The warm edge of friction, David's weight against his cock, was riding just along the right side of pain, sweetly enticing.
"Ah, fuck, don't do that," Bobby breathed, grabbing his hips and forcing him to be still. It helped--for about a second and a half, until David spread his legs a little wider and rubbed his own thighs with the tips of his fingers.
"Robert," he moaned, stroking higher and Bobby watched in dumbfounded fascination as David slowly touched himself, cupping his balls in one hand, rubbing abstract little patterns over his bare stomach with the other.
Jesus. Where had this wanton little slut come from? Bobby was pretty sure he'd remember having packed one of those for the flight over.
"Please..." David begged softly and just the sound of it sent a painful throb straight through Bobby's dick. He groaned softly, skating his free hand up to his nipples and pinching one, hard. There was an odd hissing sound and Bobby realized it was his own breathing escaping through his teeth. "Please...don't you want to fuck me?"
To hear that word roll as smooth as fine whiskey off David's tongue was just too much to ask. Ok, already, I get it, universe, Bobby thought with distinct panic, I am absolutely screwed and I need to screw this man sometime into next year. Right now.
It was a next to impossible task, with David writhing in his lap like he was sitting in itching powder and, holy sweet Jesus, he was already slick, the bastard, so easy to slide a finger inside and listen to David whimper. He arched nearly off Bobby's lap, and Bobby tightened his arm ruthlessly, holding him down. David had wanted a fucking and he was going to get one, dammit.
Still, he couldn't help trying to be gentle, nestling David's head against his shoulder as he canted his hips, positioning them both. So awkward, and all he could manage was a shallow thrust, two, into that nearly agonizing tightness, tearing heat that clenched in his balls and made him want to bend David over the arm of the chair and just shove in hard and feel him tremble.
Listening to David's sudden cry was almost as good, almost skyrocketing into a holy fuck yes when he shifted back in the most obscene little hip roll it had ever been Bobby's pleasure to feel. Tiny little movements, using his weight against Bobby's desperate grip, and fuck, fuck, fuck, David was making strangled little sounds in his throat, jerking himself off blindly and somehow he moved just right and Bobby slid in one exquisite inch deeper, just an inch but oh, that inch, absolute fucking bliss.
"Jesus, David," Bobby whispered, hearing his voice break, and he pushed, -strained- to get just a little deeper, wrapping his arms around David's waist and burying his face in the salt-warm curve of his shoulder. He felt it when David came, that tight, hard pulse around his cock, the soft, choked wail as he jerked in Bobby's arm like some sort of pornographic puppet.
Just perfect, hitting the flashpoint edge and tipping him over, and Bobby dimly felt the sharp bite of his own nails in his arms as he gripped them tightly, pulled David down as hard as he could, reeling in the sudden burst of sensation. It was almost too much, riding too hard on that edge of agony, and Bobby tasted blood from his bitten lip, sweetly, bitterly copper.
It seemed like a long time before he could open his eyes, long enough for David to slip free, to his weary regret, and turn in his arms. They were both sprawled on the bed. Legs dangling off and Bobby wasn't sure when he'd collapsed. Didn't much care, either. Cool fingers touched his lip gently, soothing the already forgotten bite. Bobby finally managed to pry his lids open, just in time to cross his eyes as David kissed him softly.
"You were right," David said solemnly when he leaned back and pressed his nose to Bobby's. "It was much larger. I do believe I'll be feeling that for a week."
"If you don't, I sure as hell know I will," Bobby said raggedly. "Jesus, David..."
"And now I shall have to take a shower again," David interrupted airily. He bit the tip of Bobby's nose, scrabbling to his feet before he could gather enough of his wits to snatch him back. He watched with disgruntled amusement as David walked to the bathroom completely, unselfconsciously naked and vanished inside.
"Ah, hell," Bobby sighed, listening as the shower started and David's voice rose in some folk-song he didn't know. "What a shame," he murmured to himself. "That would have made a good photograph."
But the picture he was about to make in that tiny shower would've been better.