Who: Conrad & Wesley. Where: The gym, the game room. When: Backdated, a few days ago. What: ..foosball? Status: Completed. Warnings: It gets kinda spicy.
"Wesley --"
Conrad tried not to give away how out of breath he was. And failed at keeping that fact to himself. One hand was digging into the mat beneath them, the other squeezing Wesley's arm. Try as he might, no matter what he did, the Brit couldn't wiggle himself out of the hold.
The match had started out evenly enough. Conrad may have had the advantage of height, but Wesley absolutely had the upper hand in skill. Despite being aware of this, Conrad was eager to see where he stood with Wesley. Ever since discovering the truth of his assassin background, he knew Wesley could beat him in a fight. Conrad just wanted to know how badly he'd lose.
Really badly, was the answer to that question.
Three rounds. They had gone three rounds at this point. Shirts had been peeled off, both of them were drenched with sweat, and Conrad had certainly earned himself a fresh bruise or two. But he had refused to forfeit. Until now. Wesley had managed to mangle him into a position that he absolutely, positively could not get out of. The winner was clear. Conrad released his friend's arm, his palm tapping the mat.
"I.. yield. I yield."
Wes had trained a few people back at his old job. In the office. On a computer. A monkey could have done his job just fine. Before the Fraternity, he'd never felt he was skilled at anything. Not enough to teach someone else. So when Conrad had asked him to show what he could do, Wes would have been lying to say he hadn't been very eager.
This was who he was. This was something he was good at. Something he actually excelled in. Which he fucking better after all the shit he had to go through. Conrad wanted to learn how to bend bullets and Wes had no problem teaching him but he wasn't going to use the same methods that Sloan had put him through. But before he could even start doing that, first he needed to know exactly how strong and skilled Conrad was. How fast was he? What about his footwork? Wes had to test him out.
He'd been in a few fights before the Fraternity so he knew a little bit already about using his size to his advantage. A skill he was able to hone to near perfection in the Fraternity. What he'd learned with Fox and the others wasn't considered military grade so it was interesting to go up against Conrad and feel the difference. The other man's movements were fast and hard, even more than Wes expected. Conrad knew what he was doing. But Wes was just that much faster.
The second he heard the slap of skin to mat, Wesley relaxed his hold on his friend's arm. "You're good, I'll give you that." Wes chuckled and lightly swatted at his shoulder. "Almost thought you were too stubborn to give in!" He peeled himself away and held out his hand to help the other man up.
Conrad was frustrated, but again, he tried to internalize it. He certainly didn't have any ill-will towards Wesley. His friend had warned him plenty before they had gotten started. Conrad was entirely aware of what he had been walking into. But oh, was his pride hurt. And his ribs, and his left shin..
Wesley hadn't held back. Conrad hadn't wanted him to. He had wanted to see how hard the other man could punch. But that wouldn't stop him from making a face at the blooming purple marks and the mat-burn on his forearms.
Nonetheless, he allowed himself to be helped back up. He even nodded his thanks to Wesley once he was back on his feet. "Mm, maybe next time, it'll be the best out of five --" He smiled, knowing full well the next time they fought, Wesley would just kick his ass again.
"Hey, listen.. I'm going to go take a shower, but after that, maybe we could.. grab a drink?"
Conrad had been getting braver with reaching out and speaking with other hotel guests, but as it stood, he was still the most comfortable around Wesley. That, and maybe they could both use a drink after such rigorous activity. "And perhaps play some foosball?" Yet another thing Wesley would beat him at, but perhaps foosball wouldn't result in more bruises.
There had been a few times that Wesley had been sure that it was going to be him ending up on his back, not Conrad. He’d thought about holding back. This wasn’t a fight to the death. But the second they got on the mat, instinct took over. Conrad came swinging hard and fast. Wes didn’t want to disappoint him so he gave him what he wanted and came just as hard and fast back.
Looking the other man over now, maybe he’d gone a bit too hard. But Conrad wore the colors well. Really well. Wes had kept his eyes from roaming during the tussle but now he let them go all over. Just to make sure that he hadn’t beat him up too bad.
“Best out of five? I’m starting to think you’re a sucker for pain,” Wesley quipped around a smirk. He went over to grab his shirt but slung it over his shoulder. There wasn’t time to put together an ice bath but a cold shower ought to help just fine. Alcohol sounded like the perfect pain reliever though. Wes could tell he would be sore. Distracting himself with drinks and a game sounded like the perfect plan. “Foosball? Already lookin’ forward to your next beating?” But Wes jostled their arms playfully as he walked by on his way out. “Message me when you’re heading over.”
Funny enough though, Wes was back in the gameroom waiting on Conrad when he texted him later. He’d taken a quick shower and threw on whatever looked the least wrinkled on which ended up just being jeans and a dark blue tee. It was warm enough in the hotel but he brought his father’s leather jacket anyway.
He’d gone ahead and lined up shots on both side of the foosball table for both of them. Boy, was he tempted to take a few but he waited until he saw Conrad come in before lifting up one of the glasses. He grinned, letting his eyes look the man over. “Well you’re still walking so I guess I wasn’t that hard on you.” Wes held out one of the shotglasses towards him. “Truce?”
Wesley may have kept his eye-wandering to a minimum, but Conrad had been less disciplined after their fight. He had rather obviously stared at Wesley's chest, even after it had been somewhat curtained by the shirt flung over his shoulder. If asked, Conrad would claim he was examining those well-toned muscles. Which wasn't a lie. But it wasn't the entire truth, either. Because those looks were not purely for the sake of observation alone.
It was confusing as much as it was irritating. This feeling, whatever it was, had lingered ever since their dance in New York. If he closed his eyes, he could still imagine how Wesley's hips felt in his hands. Their warm bodies, swaying together in perfect synchronization. It was something Conrad had wanted more of.
And he'd gotten it. Sort of. Wrestling wasn't the same as dancing, necessarily. But there had been more physical contact. What Conrad didn't understand was why. Why couldn't he stop thinking about Wesley like this? The Brit didn't even like being touched. By anyone, regardless of gender. What made Wesley so special?
A question Conrad wouldn't put too much thought into. Hell, he even tried flat out ignoring it. Pretending the thought hadn't even existed in the first place.
Conrad was pleasantly surprised to see that Wesley had not only beat him to the game room, but had already set things up for them as well. Once he was close enough, he reached out, taking the shot glass, carefully tapping it's rim against Wesley's. "No truce," he smiled, firmly shaking his head, "I'm not stopping until I beat you at something." Even if that something was foosball. After knocking back the shot, he noticed the leather jacket. Conrad gestured towards it with his empty glass. "Is that new? I don't think I've seen it it before.."
There was no plan other than a little bit of fun and a lot of drinking. Conrad was being a good sport about the pounding and even if he wasn’t saying so, Wesley knew that he was hurting. A little medicinal alcohol was exactly what he needed.
He laughed and rolled his eyes. “Alright, mister competitive. I’ll make it easy for you. You wanna beat me at something? Get a girlfriend. When it comes to that stuff,” Wes tipped his head back and swallowed the shot in one quick gulp. Mm. Limoncello. He smacked his lips and shrugged. “I don’t have the best track record.” And someone who looked like Conrad probably had an easy time with the ladies. “You leave a girl behind back on that island?” Wes remembered mentioning someone before. “Marlow, was it?”
Conrad’s curiosity about the jacket had him sobering up for a moment. He felt sheepish for wearing the thing but he was actually afraid of losing it again. “Yeah, it just showed up. I guess things like that just happen around here. It’s …my dad’s.” Wesley sheepishly admitted. “Aside from the insane weapon arsenal he left me, this is all I really have of him.” He ran his hands over the leather and then held out the arm for Conrad to feel if he wanted. As if he thought that Conrad would think it was fake and not at all having to do with the fact that he was looking for an excuse for the other man to touch him. “The guy obviously had taste, right?”
But it was warm in here so he shrugged it off and hung it on a nearby chair. He went for a second shot, whiskey this time (yeah he’d just grabbed whatever was behind the bar and poured into all the glasses lined up on the foosball table), and idly started to play with the handles. “It’s a little cheesy to keep it but I feel like it’s something that helps me get to know him. And maybe his ghost won’t haunt me if I keep the jacket nice.” Wes played it off as a joke but after everything he’d seen so far, he wouldn’t be all that shocked to see his dead dad walking around this place.
He picked up the plastic ball and bounced it in the center of the table with a cheshire cat grin. “You ready to lose again?”
Conrad let out a light snicker. "Mason," he corrected gently, "And she was just a friend." Though the extreme conditions of Skull Island had certainly caused them to grow attached to one another quickly, he could hardly call Mason his girlfriend. She was beautiful and intelligent and absolutely fell into Wesley's category of 'people Conrad was willing to be near', but they had never quite reached the point of becoming lovers. More like two trauma victims who found comfort in one another's company.
"And that's another challenge you'll have to beat me at, I'm afraid. I don't particularly want a girlfriend. You, though.. I don't foresee you having any issues with courting a young lady."
Funnily enough, it didn't occur to Conrad that certain assumptions could be drawn from that vague answer. He didn't come from an era where he needed to be more specific, that he should have stated that he didn't want a significant other at all, of either sex. But from Conrad's perspective, he didn't see the need to elaborate.
"This was your father's?" Conrad did reach out, touching the sleeve of the jacket. He hadn't forgotten what Wesley had said about him and the tragic history surrounding him. He immediately understood how meaningful this was, those blue eyes softening as he examined it. "I don't think it's cheesy at all. It looks good on you, Wes. Fits you well."
Though Conrad found it horribly puzzling that the Crown Plaza would actively try to kill them one minute and then turned around and gave them mementos from home the next. Talk about mixed signals..
"Hang on, hang on -" Conrad waved a hand, pausing just long enough to take a second shot, then rushed over to the foosball table, gesturing for them to begin. "It's funny that you should bring up Mason, though. There's a woman here at the hotel who looks just like her but.. isn't her. Isn't that strange?"
“Just a friend?”
Subtle, Wesley.
He didn’t know what Conrad meant precisely when he said he didn’t want a girlfriend. Did he mean now? Did he mean ever? Maybe he just wasn’t looking. After hearing about what he’d gone through, relationships were probably low priority for him. So there could be interest for one. Conrad just wasn’t actively on the prowl. And that was just fine. Wes wasn’t looking either.
Alright. There were a few looks but Wes knew better than to assume anything too soon. But he did go pink under Conrad’s compliment. “I know fuck all about courting. I only got my last girlfriend because she came after me first. if it were up to me to make the first move, I’d probably end up doing something like … I don’t know. Take ‘em dancing.”
The game started! Wes made sure to pay attention, forgetting the shots for a few minutes. “Looks like her but isn’t her? Ironic. The same thing happened to me. My friend who worked with me at the office. Barry? This guy showed up and I swear, they could be twins. But he says his name is Peter.” He snorted, still not convinced that Barry was just fucking with him. Though he wasn’t sure if Barry was smart enough to pull a stunt like that. “The strange part is that I was disappointed it wasn’t him. We were really close once.” He could imagine how frustrating it was for Conrad too. “You try talking to her? Maybe it’s reincarnation.” He started leaning into the table a bit too hard, shaking it as they played. “‘Course if you start talking to her and ignore me, I’m gonna get jealous.”
"Mhm, just a friend."
Conrad certainly found Mason attractive. He had also been drawn to her for more than just her beauty. But as far as an actual relationship was concerned, Conrad wasn't sure if there ever would have been one. Mason didn't exactly seem like the settle-down-and-have-kids type. Not at the time that he'd met her, at least.
"What's wrong with taking a girl dancing? I think it's a perfectly acceptable way to court someone." Although, for all he knew, things might have changed in the future. Conrad could only imagine what it took to get a woman's attention in the year 2021.
Dancing was clearly enough to get Conrad's attention, though. The very mention of it caused those images to go swimming through his head again. Which he promptly tried to ignore.
"In a place like this, anything familiar would be welcome. Perhaps you should try speaking with Peter more? Even if it's not actually Barry, maybe just being around someone who feels like a friend would be nice. As for Carol.. My not-Mason.. What's that old saying? Mates before dates? I'm not going anywhere, Wes. She's lovely, but she really didn't seem all that interested in talking with me."
Conrad, of course, had taken Wesley's comment to mean friendly jealousy as opposed to romantic jealousy. Because why would it be the latter? The Brit suddenly seemed rather jumpy, though, accidentally flicking the ball too hard, causing it to bounce out of the game table. He muttered a curse, retrieving the ball and plopping it back where it belonged. And as he did so, he swung by and snuck another shot..
"Do you have your eye on anyone here?"
The way that Conrad spoke of Mason reminded Wesley of Fox. His heart ached at the memory of her. Even if she had been in on Sloan's plan, he didn't hold a grudge against her. At least her intentions had been pure. In the end, so much so that she'd taken her own life. If he could have spared her life, he would have. Because in spite of all of it, he respected and admired the hell out of her. She had deserved better. Fate could fuck off.
"Eh, sometimes you gotta put in a bit more effort where I'm from if you really want to catch someone's attention. Chocolates and flowers are old hat. Well, people think they are. Personally if someone started throwing daisies and sour gummy worms at me, I'd be swooning. But everyone's different. And everyone is into different things. Different people. Sometimes that's hard to tell unless they're obvious about it." He raised an eyebrow over at Conrad across the gametable pointedly. Then the ball bounced out and Wes took the time to grab his third shot. "I'm not saying you can't have friends outside of me, you know. You should have friends. You're fun. Hip. Super square. I'd want to be your friend even if you are a bitter betty sometimes. But you're my bitter betty so don't change." There was that pleasant alcohol buzz coming along very nicely.
He licked his lips a little too long, making him thirsty all over again and slipped that fourth shot between his lips just as Conrad took his shot and scored himself the first point. Wes laughed and dropped the empties with the others. His head was feeling lighter and words were coming out faster than he could control them.
"Well I haven't kissed anyone yet and made any declarations of love if that's what you're asking. I mean, there are definitely some very attractive people staying here. Present company included," he threw a wink Conrad's way. "There's this one girl who can make portals who's cute. Then there's that guy who said he'd take me fishing. Also cute." He flipped the plastic ball in for a point for himself. "So what would you do if you were trying to court someone?"
"Square? Don't say that. Square is a bad thing, Wes." But Conrad was laughing when he said this, so apparently he wasn't the least bit offended. Old hat. He laughed even harder over that. The Brit definitely came from a 'simpler time' where things were a little more straightforward. On the surface, at least.
At the same time, England in the sixties and early seventies remained a little less.. accepting of certain subjects. Like the subjects suddenly flying out of Wesley's mouth. His laughter came to a stop. Conrad wasn't sure if he'd ever met an openly bisexual man before. Openly being the key word there. There was a chance he had and just hadn't been aware of it. Yet here was Wesley, freely admitting it like it was nothing. Things were very different in the future..
It wasn't really the fact that Wesley was bisexual that suddenly had Conrad flustered. Despite his background, he really didn't care what other people were into. It didn't have any impact on Conrad's life whatsoever.
But Wesley did. Wesley directly affected him. And his thoughts in the shower.
It was just a silly little crush. Conrad thought Wesley was attractive. To anyone else, this wouldn't have been a big deal in the slightest. But a molehill had abruptly been turned into a mountain in his mind and the Brit couldn't focus on the foosball game to save his life. Wesley had winked at him, but surely he was simply flirting for the sake of making conversation. He didn't mean it, did he?
"Sorry, what -- what did you ask? What would I do?" Words, Conrad. Words. "I, ah.." He cleared his throat, desperately trying to pull his focus back to their game. "Well.. This." By this, he meant drinking and playing games. Flirting, getting to know one another naturally. But apparently Conrad was not big on sharing details at the moment. "And.. dancing."
His eyes nervously lifted, looking at Wesley. If this were a real scenario where Conrad was actually trying to get someone's attention, what would he do? Well. Get a little closer, of course. See if those advances of his were actually working. He had abandoned the game entirely at this point, rounding the table and easing his way up to Wesley's side; his pace slow, but deliberate, like a cat stalking his prey. He reached out, his finger catching Wesley's chin, encouraging him to look at him.
"And if all of that was going well, I'd probably try to take things a little further.."
Wesley wasn’t usually this open about anything to anyone. People had this nasty habit of turning things around on him in his life so he kept anything personal close to his chest. But Conrad wasn’t just anyone. He was a prickly pear, sure, and hadn’t been open to talking at first (and sometimes still wasn’t) but now and then he cracked a part of himself open and let Wesley take a peek. It only felt fair for Wes to do the same for him.
“Square can be a good thing too,” Wes insisted with a stubborn throw of his chin. “The nerds rule the world now, y’know.” But he liked the sound of Conrad laughing. He was feeling more comfortable, opening himself up. And Wes was glad to see that. He knew it wasn’t always easy, especially when everyone around expected you to be a certain way. “But you can be whatever you want. I’ll still be your groovy friend.” He was joking and swaying a little but he was very very serious about that. “You wanna be a little quiet tomato, you be the best tomato you can be.” Wes hoped that sounded encouraging. He was four shots in and sentences were becoming sillier by the minute.
Shy tomato was more like it, Wes noticed as he watched his poor friend turn into a flustery mess. Over what? Conrad looked like a man who knew what he wanted. A little harmless flirting couldn’t put him this much off his game. “Well if this is you flirting, it’s working. I mean, it would work. If you were trying it on someone.”
Was he trying? Nah. They were just talking and having fun. And trying to play foosball. Except Wes was having a really fucking hard time focusing on the game when he kept getting distracted by the player. Wes flipped one of the handles too hard and sent the plastic ball flying again. It landed in one of his shot glasses. By the time he fished it out and slid it back on the table, Conrad had come around to his side of the table.
“No fair coming over here to distract me-!” Wes started to lick the liquor off his fingers when he saw the other man start to reach out. He went still and waited. When Conrad touched his chin, he couldn’t but to smile. “A little further?” He turned his body and leaned in. A lot. This wasn’t where he thought this would be going. Maybe it still wouldn’t go anywhere. Conrad hadn’t given him any sign that he was interested like that. Not anything obvious. But this wouldn’t be the first time Wes had been with someone who got drunk and handsy. Maybe this was just Conrad giving into the alcohol. “Only a little?” He pouted. “What if it was going really well?”
It was true, Conrad hadn't shown any signs of being interested in Wesley. He had actively kept it to himself, terrified of the other man's reaction. Terrified of his own reaction. Because, according to Conrad, the Brit was not attracted to men. A 'fact' that Conrad didn't usually have to defend. Normally, anyone who might have been on his radar had never come close enough - physically or emotionally - to shake him up like this.
But oh, how well Wesley had succeeded. And in such a short amount of time, too. It was nerve-wracking. And baffling. And in this particular moment.. utterly wonderful. Any other time, Conrad might have kept his distance, even with Wesley's subtle flirting. A wink and a compliment weren't enough to crack Conrad's shell. But alcohol was. And though he hadn't had much, it was about the same as he'd had in New York -- just enough to provide some bravery on Conrad's part.
He was looking at Wesley, gauging his reaction to the touch. And if body language was anything to go off of, the other man wasn't repulsed in the slightest. Instead of stepping away, he had turned to face him. Which, even in his tipsy state, was enough to surprise Conrad.
Pleasantly surprise.
"If things were going really well," he continued, his hand drifting away from Wesley's chin, lowering to his side. "Then I'd probably.." The Brit tilted his head, leaning close and lowering his voice, nearly to a whisper. "I'd murmur sweet nothings into their ear and see just how far my date would be willing to let me go.."
Conrad's lips just barely ghosted over Wesley's neck as he spoke, all while his hand smoothed down his body. This was the first time Conrad truly let himself focus on Wesley and how he felt beneath his fingertips. Appreciating, admiring. Conrad's lips brushed along Wesley's ear; not quite a kiss, but no longer avoiding contact, either.
"And if.. things were still going well," he paused, leaning back once more to look Wesley in the eye, "I'd kiss him." Conrad had been avoiding pronouns until now. But if Wesley was going to permit him to go this far, surely it was clear by now that the Brit wasn't just doing all of this for show. Conrad's own body language still aired on the side of caution, but even with his underlying fear, he found the courage to lean in a second time, claiming Wesley's mouth in a gentle kiss.
Flirting wasn’t something that Wesley always succeeded with. He knew how to, of course but getting whoever he was aiming that affection towards to actually respond back in kind? That was the kicker. It wasn’t like he batted his eyelashes at whatever pair of sexy legs that came his way though. Yeah, maybe it was rich of him to be picky but he didn’t see it that way. He was attracted to men and women, both, but more than the physical attraction, there had to be that mental connection as well. That spark. Someone he’d enjoy hanging out with as much as he enjoyed fucking them. His last relationship had been more of the latter and he wasn’t looking for a repeat.
So he wasn’t just invading Conrad’s personal space right now because he was horny or lonely. He could be absolutely hammered and eager for physical attention but if he didn’t like someone, he wasn’t going to put his mouth on them, much less his dick.
Conrad? Wes didn’t realize how badly he wanted to put his mouth somewhere on him until he could feel the other man’s hot breath tickle his ears. Sweet nothings, huh? “I could be wooed if you whispered the lyrics of your favorite Beatles’ song.” And he wasn’t joking. Wes wasn’t the biggest fan of the band but wow, Conrad could recite the entire encyclopedia to him right now and he’d be hard. He could already feel that tightness in his chest and that familiar fire below. Those hands wandering over his chest were only fanning the flames even more. “If I was your date, I’d let you get pretty far,” he barely was able to get out without choking on his own lust.
If he were sober, he would have hesitated. But he was far from that right now and with Conrad getting more physical by the second, fuck why would he even want to pull back? Give him more! His own hands lifted to the front of Conrad’s shirt, curling into the fabric and giving him a tug closer. Then, Conrad pulled back and Wes thought that was the end of that. They were just fooling around and being drunk idiots. He was alright with letting the flirting and touching slide as nothing but-
It was the softest kiss he could remember ever having. He couldn’t help wondering if this was the first time Conrad had ever kissed a man before. Or maybe it had just been awhile. Wes could feel that uncertainty, the pause he’d taken before finally letting himself take what he wanted. He smiled into the kiss and moved his mouth back slow at first, not wanting to startle the other man into pulling away again. He rolled his fingers under the hem of Conrad’s shirt, nails ghosting along the skin of his stomach in silent encouragement.
Conrad nearly felt like he was falling. Like he'd taken a leap without knowing where he'd land - if he'd land - or if he'd simply fall flat on his face. But Wesley had caught him. The other man hadn't pushed him away, hadn't let him drop. He was kissing him back and oh, it was the only encouragement Conrad needed.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue catching Wesley's teeth and tasing the alcohol they'd been knocking back. All the while, his hand lowered to meet with Wes', nudging it further up under his shirt. Conrad may have been the one to instigate this interaction, but he needed Wesley's reassurance. The Brit would absolutely die of embarrassment over this later. He truly did not make a habit of getting tipsy and making out with other people. It was shallow, it was superficial, and James Conrad was neither of those things.
Well. For Wesley he was, apparently.
His mind would overthink and tear this exchange between them apart the following day, but for now, Conrad appeared to be content to be taken for a ride. His own hand had crept to the bottom of Wesley's shirt, just barely touching the skin beneath - almost as if silently asking permission to go further. His mind was hazy and he was eager to push his boundaries, but he wasn't about to ask Wesley to do anything he didn't want to do. One little word of protest and Conrad would willingly give Wesley the space he needed. But until then, Conrad would keep kissing him.
Not just on the lips, of course. His mouth had returned to Wesley's neck, showing affection where he had been too timid just moments prior. "Wesley.. Wesley Allan Gibson.." he whispered, lightly nipping just below his ear. His tone was almost playful, because he remembered what Wes had said about using his middle name.. "Is this too much?"
Wesley wasn’t thinking about later. Maybe he should have been. But he wasn’t. His thoughts were stuck in a haze of lust and excitement right now. He’d forgotten where they were, even after his back hit the knobs of the foosball table. His focus couldn’t be torn away for anything. Not when he was getting first-hand exposure to Conrad’s belly right now. He used his fingers to leave the ghost of a tickle as he trailed them upwards.
When he felt Conrad’s hands going inside his shirt, his entire body shivered like he’d just been dropped into an ice-bath. But he wasn’t cold. Just the opposite. Wes felt warm all over, especially wherever their bodies met. He hummed with pleasure from every contact, the vibration between their lips an added physical pleasure to enjoy that he didn’t expect. Wes was open to making an absolute fool of himself for more of this. Protest? The only protest he gave was when Conrad moved his mouth away from his but that huff quickly turned into a moan when that mouth discovered his ear again.
The fact that they were in public was the only thing that was keeping Wes from shoving Conrad into the bar and rip off those buttons on his pants after he felt those teeth graze his ear. “F-fuck-!” What was that Sloan had tried to drill into his head? Control.
How was he supposed to have any of that when Conrad was throwing around his full name like a lasso? Wes immediately felt like a broken steed. But he laughed, his head falling back so he could catch Conrad’s gaze. His eyes were dark as he bit his lip. “Now you’re just trying to rile me up.” His hands moved again, around Conrad’s hips and up the inside of his back. “It’s working.”
He kissed the side of his jaw, even though he’d been aiming for his mouth again. Two, three, four times! Like he had just found his new favorite spot and refused to move his mouth away. “I don’t feel one hundred percent wooed, James. Mmm, but you’re eighty-percent there.”
He could see the darkness in Wesley's eyes and for a moment, Conrad thought his heart might stop dead in his chest all over again. Wesley was breathtakingly handsome. That, in combination of his hand placement and the way Wesley said his name -- Conrad wasn't sure if he'd ever been so turned on in his life.
The Brit cared that they were in public. Very much so. Even with an erection pressing into his trousers and intoxication whispering into his own ear to solve that problem, Conrad maintained at least a smidge of self-restraint.
Sort of. Because Wesley was egging him on - challenging him to up the bar, even - and Conrad wasn't about to let the other man walk away only eighty-percent satisfied. A mischievous smile tugged at his lips. If Wesley wanted him to do better, he could absolutely do better. Public space or not.
Conrad wrapped an arm around Wesley, guiding him away from the foosball table and roughly shoving him up against the wall. He took Wesley by his wrists, pinning him down - like he'd wanted to upon the floor of the gym, like he'd imagined he'd done in the shower - and leaned to kiss him. And this time, it wasn't gentle at all. His hips ground up against Wesley's, his mouth finding every inch of skin.
One hand eventually released Wesley's wrist, smoothing back down in order to disappear beneath his shirt. Fingertips brazenly sought out what they wanted, his thumb toying with Wesley's nipple. But if the other man still wasn't wooed, Conrad could easily be coerced into pushing that envelope further.
He was being an idiot. They both were. Tomorrow, they could blame the alcohol. Or not. Wes wouldn’t think anything differently of Conrad for a little drunken groping. Okay, he would but not in a bad way. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from thinking about how devilish and sexy the other man looked when he had that extra bit of confidence in his step. Even more so when he started taking control. Drunk or sober, he would have let Conrad push him into anything as long as he kept smiling like that.
Wes could have broken out of the hold. He was strong enough. Conrad had the bruises to prove it. He didn’t though. That he liked it when the other man got a little rough with him, holding him in place while he rolled into him like a dog in heat, wasn’t a surprise. He fucking really liked it and bucked back with mutual growing interest. Conrad was exploring more of him with an eagerness that Wesley was unused to. If he’d been wearing panties, they would have dropped.
He was out of breath and unfairly hard after only ten minutes of being teased. But he didn’t mind being Conrad’s plaything. As long as he could a little playing of his own. He kept his one hand ‘locked’ under Conrad’s grasp but the other glided across the other man’s thigh coyly. He bit at Conrad’s bottom lip just as he lifted his fingers over the top of his pants. Looping his fingers for a better grip, he pulled and rocked their hips together.
The harder friction pulled a whine from him. He’d meant to force that noise from Conrad but goddamnit, the plan had backfired. That didn’t mean he stopped trying. He’d get a noise out of Conrad eventually, even if he had to stick his whole hand down his pants to do it.
Wesley wouldn't have to try too much harder to get a noise out of Conrad. Feeling that hand on his inner thigh was more than enough to ease a moan out of him. Had he been sober, he would have wondered if he was imagining all of this. It had escalated so quickly, it couldn't possibly be real. Wesley would never return his attraction. This had to be some sort of elaborate daydream. A trick of his imagination.
Conrad may have been too tipsy to stop himself from shoving Wesley against a wall, but he wasn't drunk enough to fling his own morals out a window. He wanted Wesley. Badly. More than he'd ever wanted anyone in his entire life. But he couldn't justify what what happening right now. It was too much, too fast. He couldn't delve any deeper on a 'first date', if they could even call it that.
His cock throbbed in his pants, aching for Conrad to continue. But he couldn't. He'd feel even more guilty if he pressured Wesley into his bed. So he slowed his movements, his grip releasing Wesley's wrist. "Wes," he whispered, kissing along the side of his face, "I need to -- I should go." The Brit's voice gave away how reluctant he was. But he simply could not bring himself to cross that line. Not yet. His warm hands cupped Wesley's cheeks as he snuck one more kiss to his lips. Hopefully the other man could forgive him for leaving so abruptly. But if Conrad stayed a second longer, he feared his self control would slip away entirely. "I'll.. I'll see you later." And with that, he pulled himself away, disappearing from the game room.