lee_fallon | PSL - Chance Encounter

Lee's been in Darrow now about a week and a half, and he's been to every bar in the city limits, met all of the owners, and offered to tailor each of their wine lists. He wasn't getting paid for any of this, but based on the amount of money in his bank account, his monthly stipend, and the cost of rent, he didn't really need money to get by day to day. And he certainly didn't need to save up for anything.

He still hasn't bothered to see a doctor. He feels like he probably should, just so someone in the city (besides his dear friend Susan) knows what was going on with him. But he'll get to that later.

Today he's out for a run. His running shoes arrived in the mail yesterday, and he's been itching to get his pulse up. He never feels as alive as he does when he's out on the street, feet pounding against the pavement, sweating freely, breathing hard. Sex is a very close second, but nothing beats the adrenaline rush of a good, hard sprint.

He doesn't have a route yet, just sort of turning left and right at intersections with no rhyme or reason. He's planning on doing six miles today, using the app on his phone to track his progress; so far he's just over four miles, maintaining something close to an eight minute mile pace, nice and respectable.

But then, turning a corner, he stops, abruptly enough that he nearly stumbles. It's been a few days since he last saw Connor, his last glimpse when Connor slipped out of his apartment. He'd thought about calling a few times, just to check on him, but for some reason Lee had always changed his mind.

Here he is now, walking down the street, late afternoon sun lighting up his face. Lee's thought about him a lot, about what it had been like to be with him, but also worrying about him, all that sorrow filling him up, sending him on a self-destructive path. He looks good, right now, not happy really but not falling into himself like he had been a few nights ago.

He can't make himself say anything, just stands and watches Connor walk his way on the opposite side of the street. He's breathing heavily from running, covered in sweat, and his heart is pounding, but some of that has to do with seeing Connor again. More than he's willing to admit even to himself.

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Lee laughs, mostly because he's overwhelmed with how much he wants this, wants Connor, doesn't want to give him up. "Do you want me to?" he asks, still smiling. He's careful as he pulls his fingers free Connor's body still holding him tight.

"No freaking way," says Connor, shaking his head. "This is fucking awesome. Don't you dare go easy on me, man."

Lee nods, not that Connor can see it,and he leans in, brushing a sweet kiss to Connor's tailbone. "I won't," he says. "I promise."

Leaning back, he climbs off the bed, moving to untie one of Connor's wrists from the headboard. The skin is red, but it doesn't look to be marked deeply.

"Good."

When Lee unties his wrists, Connor straightens up onto his knees, rubbing his wrist with his thumb. The skin's not even sore; it won't take long to settle down. "Because I'll totally stay the night if it's all going to be that good."

Lee laughed, climbing back onto the bed, facing Connor on his knees. "I might have put the bar a little high for that," he says, reaching out to cup the side of Connor's face. "But I promise, I won't stop fucking you until we're both too exhausted to move," he adds, leaning in to kiss Connor's mouth.

Connor leans into the kiss immediately, chasing after it. He's not sure how he feels about doing all of this pretty much sober, so he just doesn't focus on it, throwing one arm around Lee's shoulder and pulling him in closer.

Edited Date: 2015-12-22 11:07 pm (UTC)

Connor's kiss is eager and hot and a little desperate, and Lee allows himself to be dragged into it, giving in to a desire he usually keeps bottled up. It feels so good to just kiss Connor, neither one of them ready again for sex yet. It pings an emotional part of Lee that he's tried to bury, and he'll cover it again when Connor leaves in the morning, but for the moment he lets himself pretend he can have this, that he can have Connor as more than just a fuck every now and again. Even if Lee wasn't sick, there's no way Connor would want to be in a relationship with someone like Lee in a place like this. But it's nice to think there's a chance, just for a few minutes.

He holds Connor close, wraps his arms around Connor's back and kisses him deeply, slowly and thoroughly. It feels so good, he doesn't want to stop any time soon, and he won't, unless Connor does.

One of the things he's missed, since arriving in Darrow, is kissing like this, kissing like he means it, and he's quite content, for the moment, to just kneel in the middle of Lee's bed and make out like teenagers. God, it's good.

Lee slides a hand down into the hollow of Connor's lower back, and he wants to lay them down, get comfortable in the bed, their mouths still working together, alternating between hard and soft kisses. But he's afraid to break the moment, so he just keeps touching Connor, letting his hands wander up and down Connor's back, touching him, feeling him, keeping him, just for a while.

Connor squirms a little, his thighs cramping until his ass hits the bed, pulling Lee with him. It's ungainly and it makes him laugh a little against Lee's mouth. He sprawls, tugging Lee half on top of him.

It's the lightest that he's felt sober since arriving in Darrow.

Lee laughs too, feeling lighthearted and young and free, tumbling into bed with a boy he likes. He pulls himself a little closer, kissing Connor's mouth below him, his hand on Connor's chest, fingertips feeling the skin. He moans softly into Connor's mouth, and god, life is so unfair. He wants this, he doesn't want to give it up.

When they break for breath, he brushes his hand back over Lee's short hair.

"If we're going again, could I get a glass of water or something?" he says, biting his lip, smiling up at Lee. What is he doing? He pushes the thought out of his head, just lets himself exist in the fucking moment for a while.

Lee licks his lips, and smiles softly, brushing some hair away from Connor's forehead. "Of course," he says, pressing a kiss to the side of Connor's mouth before he gets up and goes to the kitchen. He takes down a glass and fills it with tap water, drinks half of it before filling it again and taking it back to the bedroom.

Conor pushes up into a sitting position, legs pulled up to cross in front of him, utterly unselfconscious about the nudity. He takes the glass of water gratefully and drinks off half of it in one go.

"All of that was so good."

Lee moves to join Connor on the bed, sitting beside him and watching the line of his throat when he drinks. He licks his lips.

“So good,” Lee agrees, reaching out to touch Connor’s knee, tracing his fingertips along it. “Being tied up, did you like that?"

"Yeah," says Connor, immediately. "I could have taken a little more. I knew one guy who liked to push really hard." He takes a sip of the water. "It's good."

Lee nods, and he thinks he’d like to try it, if he has the chance. He might not, which is one of the only things that frustrates him about being as sick as he is, having to remember he has an expiration date that’s a lot closer for him than it is for most people.

“What do you mean by push really hard?” he asks, watching his fingers move on Connor’s skin.

Connor lies still and lets Lee touch him, enjoying the brush of his fingers over his exposed skin.

"You were really concerned with how comfortable I was. It's not supposed to be about me." He smiles. "He used to like putting me on display."

Lee hears what Connor says and he understands, but he doesn’t think he could ever be unconcerned with someone else’s comfort, in sex or otherwise. Maybe it’s a flaw or just a limitation as far as something like BDSM goes, but he feels like pain should be approached in the right way, a careful way. He takes a breath.

“Did you like that better?” he asks.

Connor thinks about that for a moment, idly running his fingers through his hair.

"Not better," he says. "But I could have taken more."

He gets up off the bed and fetches his phone, coming back to sprawl alongside Lee. "I've probably got pictures."

Lee watches Connor go, and he tries to mentally prepare himself for what Connor’s going to show him. It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy porn, he does, but this is a bit more personal than that. He reminds himself that Connor’s just a guy he’s hooked up with twice, that there’s nothing here but amazing sexual chemistry. They don’t have feelings for each other, and there’s absolutely no reason for Lee to feel jealous or inadequate.

Connor unlocks his phone and pages back through the pictures, eventually finds the one that he's looking for. If you didn't know it was him, it wouldn't be obvious from the picture, which was taken from behind. He's on his knees, wrists bound over his head, legs bound bend. There's a rope looped around his balls, snugly pressed into the cleft of his ass. He looks it for a long moment and then offers the phone to Lee.

Lee looks at the photo, and he immediately admires the composition of it, the care taken with the ropes and knots. This is obviously something the person who did it has learned, because Lee couldn’t reproduce it if he wanted to. It’s a nice picture, though. Connor looks really good in it.

“Talented guy,” Lee says, handing the phone back to Connor. “What did he do with you, after he tied you up like that?"

"Made me really sorry that I said yes," says Connor, grinning as he sets the phone aside and stretches a little, getting comfortable. "I'm not sure how long he made me wait to come but it felt like a freaking lifetime."

Lee smiles, because for all of Connor’s words to the contrary, he’s sure Connor loved every second of it. Maybe it’s because Lee’s life is so short these days, or maybe it’s because he’s never really been a fan of waiting, but orgasm denial isn’t something he’s ever much enjoyed himself.

“Did those ropes hurt?” he asks, curious, detaching.