lee_fallon | AU - Gay Bar Meeting

One thing Lee hadn't considered when he'd gotten his cancer diagnosis twelve years ago was that it would involve this much traveling. And, at first, it hadn't. There were treatment centers in New Orleans that he'd gone to pretty much exclusively the first few years. But then he started getting accepted to clinical trials, and of course none of those were close to home. So began his nomadic lifestyle.

Trial number seven is in Philadelphia. He'd been home almost a year before it started, and while he's still traveling light, leaving his wine bar and his few friends is weighing heavily on him tonight, his third night in the city.

He had treatment today, and it's probably not the smartest idea to be out, but he can't stand another night alone in his apartment. Philly is a big city, so finding a gay club isn't difficult, and even though he's sitting at the bar by himself, just like he would be at home, being in a crowd of attractive men is definitely not hurting his mood. And neither is the beer in his hand, cheap as it is.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Lee grins at the twink comment. He feels exactly the same way, and he's more than glad that Connor not only isn't a twink himself, but also seems to be into whatever category someone might put Lee.

"My apartment is pretty close too," he says, licking his bottom lip in unconscious anticipation. "And I have a lot of wine there. If you're interested."

Connor gives the glass in his hand a critical look and then knocks back the rest in one long, easy swallow. It's a swallow that speaks of practice.

"Wine sounds good," he says. "Give me a minute to find my jacket?"

Lee probably shouldn't feel turned on by watching Connor swallow the rest of his Jack and Coke like a pro, but he's human and he's horny, so he isn't too critical of how easy he's being right now.

"Yeah, absolutely," he replies, similarly polishing off his beer and setting the empty bottle on the bar. "I'll be here when you get back."

It doesn't take him long. A minute or two and he's back, shrugging on the battered leather jacket that he's been wearing to bars since he was eighteen. He flashes Lee a grin designed to be boyish, charming. He's spent a lot of time practicing that grin.

"Alright," he says. "I am all yours."

"That's exactly what I like to hear," Lee replies, standing up from his seat and walking up alongside Connor. He ushers him out the door with a hand at his lower back, then slides his hands into his pockets as the walk toward Lee's apartment.

"So, Connor, what do you do?" he asks, making idle smalltalk to fill the time.

The hand in the small of his back is the tiniest bit possessive and Connor gets a little shiver from that. This could be promising.

"Law school," he says. "Middleton. Graduated top of my class at Harvard."

"Wow, Harvard," Lee replies, and he won't tell Connor, but the pride in his voice makes Lee a little harder. "That's very impressive," he adds. "What'd I do to land a guy who's not only gorgeous but also smart as hell?"

"Bought me a drink. Good face." Connor's eyes flick down and he doesn't say it but it's pretty clear on his face what he's thinking. "Plus, I'm feeling a little bit slutty tonight and you offered me wine. Which sounds win-win to me."

If he's calculated right, a little bit of a mouth isn't going to send Lee running screaming.

"Good face?" Lee repeats, his eyebrows going up. "I have a great face, thank you," he corrects.

"Also, in the spirit of full disclosure, I don't usually invite guys back to my place for wine, but I'm a little desperate to get you alone. And I bet your skin looks amazing when you've got a good red in you," he tells Connor, turning his head to look at Connor's throat, then moving his eyes back to Connor's face.

"A great face," says Connor, hands held up in surrender, that smirk still firmly in place. "My skin looks amazing period. But red wine does have a profound effect on my inhibitions."

"You don't seem particularly inhibited to me," Lee replies with a salacious smile. "But I have more than enough wine to get you wherever you want to be."

Taking a left turn and crossing the street, they're nearing Lee's building quickly. "Tell me, Connor, do you get a pretty flush when you've had a bit too much to drink?" he asks, imagining what that might look like.

"I get very warm and receptive," says Connor, passing his hand back through his hair, fixing the way that it tumbles across his forehead. "Very suggestible, too."

Lee already feels like Connor is receptive, and his brain can hardly handle the idea of him being more so. This is really his lucky day.

"That works well," Lee says, pulling out his keys and opening the outside door to his building, holding it for Connor. "Because I have suggestions."

Connor's eyebrow twitches. This might really be fun, depending on what kind of suggestions Lee actually has. Connor finds that these older guys can go either way - either they've got all sorts of awesome ideas or the sex turns out to be woefully pedestrian and short.

He steps through the doorway ahead of Lee and waits once he's over the threshold.

"Well, I am great at taking instruction."

Lee's eyes widen a fraction. "I bet you do," he says, tucking his hand back into the small of Connor's back and guiding him to the elevator. He feels very drawn to this guy, and he knows it's just a hookup and that Connor is way too young and free for him, he feels like he must have done something right to be bringing him home tonight.

As soon as the elevator doors shut, Lee tips his head close, lowering his voice to say, "I can't wait to get my mouth on you."

Connor leans back against the elevator wall, hips canted forward, eyebrow slightly raised. He moves his head so that his mouth is close to Lee's skin when he answers.

"I bet you can't," he says. "I bet there's a whole list of things you're dying to do to me."

"Oh yeah," Lee replies, and he lets a hand wander to Connor's side, the first touch beyond the hand shake and the little nudges of guidance. "And it's a long one," he adds, grinning as he acknowledges the cheesiness of what he's said.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open, but Lee doesn't rush to back off. He turns his head, brushing the tip of his nose over Connor's forehead before shifting easily back. In the hall, he tries to breathe, to calm himself just a fraction. It's been a while, and the last thing he wants to do is get over excited and embarrass himself around someone that's easily a decade younger than he is.

At his door, he unlocks the bolt and waves Connor inside. His apartment is very sparsely furnished, a table and chairs, a mattress on the floor, a small Buddhist shrine. The place is nice, though, for a studio, with a big kitchen with a gas range, wood floors, muted track lighting. In the corner there's a large wine rack, stocked to the gills.

He closes the door behind them, then crosses to the wine rack. "Red's okay?"

"Red is fine by me," says Connor, shrugging out of his jacket, draping it over the back of one of the chairs and wandering towards Lee with hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He leans his hip against the counter, watching the way Lee moves around the space. "This is a nice place."

"Thank you," Lee replies, walking back to the counter with a relatively nice bottle of shiraz. He pulls a corkscrew out of a drawer and cuts the foil, then screws it into the cork, pulling it with a practice ease and a satisfying pop. Normally he'd let it breathe, but he's not sure he's even going to make it through drinking a glass of wine before he starts working on getting Connor's pants off.

"I've only been here three days," he goes on, retrieving two glasses and tipping some wine into one of them, handing it to Connor and then pouring one for himself. "Have you been in Philly long?" he asks, bringing his glass to his nose to smell the bouquet before having his first taste.

"Just since the start of the semester."

Ever a practiced chameleon, Connor watches the way that Lee inhales and does the same thing, before he takes a little sip. His father is a major wine enthusiast, so Connor knows his way around a bottle of wine. He makes an appreciative noise.

"So," he says, cutting to the chase. "What kind of a hook-up are you hoping this is going to be?"

Lee can't help but be a little turned on by the way Connor samples the nose of the wine before he tastes it, pulling only a little into his mouth and rolling it over his tongue. Most people he drinks with don't appreciate wine the way he does, at least not until he teaches them how.

He's ready to launch into a conversation about the wine when Connor cuts his line of thinking off entirely, and so effectively that Lee almost chokes on his own swallow.

"Well," he replies, his throat tight, requiring that he clear it. "It's probably too much to hope for, but if it ends with me making coffee for us tomorrow, I'll be ecstatic."

"I suppose we'll have to see," says Connor, taking another, deeper sip of his wine this time. There's this electric buzz under his skin, in his belly, like there's a direct line between his brain and his cock. He tilts his head, smiles. "I was hoping for a little more detail, but wine to coffee. Got it."

"Oh, detail," Lee repeats, moving around to the same side of the counter as Connor, rolling his wine in his glass. "I can do detail," he says, taking a sip of his drink and then setting the glass on the countertop.

"So, when you were standing at the bar showing me your arms," he says, turning to brush his fingers down along Connor's tricep, "I was thinking how much I'd like to suck your dick." He breathes in through his nose, admiring Connor's smell again. "Are you okay with that?"

"Am I okay with you sucking my dick?" asks Connor, eyebrows raised, glass paused on the way to his mouth for another sip. He bites his lip for a moment, both eyebrows raised. "Does anyone seriously say no to that?"

"You'd be surprised," Lee replies. When he was younger, no one hesitated with those sorts of things. But he was reckless back then too, and now, well. He's not going to live long enough for HIV to be an issue for him anyway, and he makes sure he's not passing anything on himself. At least you can't give someone else cancer.

He reaches back to retrieve his glass, taking a healthier swallow than a connaisseur normally would before setting he glass back down. "Do you need more to drink before I go there?" he asks, dragging his lower lip between his teeth.