InsaneJournal

trying to chase some pleasure brand new
Who: Daniel & Chris.
What: Chris makes another attempt at a date, this time in theme with the holiday.
Where: Fubar.
When: Oct. 29.
Warning: NC-17, but lbr, when is it not when it's them.

Chris plucked at the material of his orange jumpsuit for the umpteenth time, trying to settle the butterflies in his stomach over his choice of costume. There were handcuffs to go with it, and the stupid "one step away" from onesie looked nothing like the actual prison jumpsuits he'd seen in his life, but his very real fear of going to prison was not easy to dispel.

Still, the overall idea was itself the thing giving him butterflies. Laying on the far side of his bed was another costume still in its bag, awaiting the person he'd texted to come over and try it out. After the sudden downhill turn their last date had taken, and how Daniel had reacted, Chris searched for a way to make it up to him. Something beyond sex, beyond just hanging out at their apartments, which was something Daniel clearly wasn't entirely satisfied with. And, the more he thought about it, Chris wasn't fully satisfied with it either.

Of course, that didn't erase the issues and reasons he had for containing their relationship as he had, but the upcoming Halloween holiday presented him with an option he wasn't going to let pass by. A knock at the door announced his visitor, and Chris quickly dropped the prisoner's outfit on the bed in a heap of orange in order to go catch Daniel before he decided to let himself in and fully ruin the surprise before Chris was ready.

To his credit, Daniel exhibited some small degree of patience. He waited at the door, listening intently for his partner on the other side. His hands were stuffed into his pockets to stop himself knocking yet again. When the door opened, Daniel lost all semblance of calm. He strode into the apartment as though it were his own, flashing his fullest, brightest grin.

"You've got me all curious," Daniel said, greedily rubbing his hands together. "So what's up?"

Chris took a long moment to close the door behind him. Then he allowed himself a touch of excitement, moving up behind Daniel as best he could despite his shorter stature, ringing his arms around the other man's waist to pull him into a backward hug. His chin barely met Daniel's shoulder, despite him tilting his head up to meet that high perch.

"You don't have any other plans tonight, right? Whaddya say we do something Halloween-y?"

"Whoa now," Daniel said. His hands came to rest atop Chris's, holding them close against his stomach. He leaned back into that welcome embrace and looked back to him as best he could. "Who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?"

He turned in Chris's arms to look down at him with unfeigned surprise. "I got no plans at all. What do you wanna do? Scary Netflix and chill? Wing candy out the window at trick or treaters?"

"Mm, no, I had a different idea." Chris's arms stayed around Daniel's waist for another long moment, face tilted up to grin at his boyfriend before leaping up on the tiptoe of one foot so he could brush his lips against the tip of Daniel's nose. Drawing back, he weaved fingers through Daniel's to draw him toward the bedroom.

Before Daniel could interject with some smart comment about role play or bedroom games, Chris loosed his hand to meander around the side of his bed and grab up the policeman's costume, which he then lobbed in Daniel's direction. He caught it easily, blinking as he lifted the bag up for closer inspection.

"Kinky," he said. He smiled over at Chris, one dark brow sharply arched. He flicked his tongue over his grinning lips. "So how in character are you wantin' me to stay? And—oh wait wait wait…" Still holding the bag, he reached over and grabbed the pile of orange cloth from the bed. Somehow his smile grew wider. "Is this one yours? Oh, you dirty boy…"

"Actually," Chris started, sinking down on the bed to give his leg some relief and not as an invitation for Daniel to join him. "I thought we'd go out." He rubbed a hand against his thigh, the only sign of his anxiety regarding this plan showing through. "Fubar is having a party, today actually, and I figured with costumes, people wouldn't recognize us, so we could, you know," his shoulders rose and fell, eyes carefully studying Daniel's reaction, "Have some fun. In public."

Daniel started to ask a question, but his mouth snapped shut so quickly it was almost audible. It occurred to him that if he did not take this chance when it was presented, if he offered Chris any out at all, a second opportunity may be a long time in coming.

He tossed the orange jumpsuit back to Chris. "Cool," he said, his attempt at nonchalance completely undermined by the quickness of his movements as he tore open his costume. "What time's the party? I gotta run back downstairs and get some different shoes." The bag fell to the floor. He withdrew each piece of the costume, muttering half to himself, half to Chris as he looked over it all. "Some better underwear, too, 'cause this material is thin. Maybe I should just go commando? Fuck, do I have time to shave?"

All of Daniel's questions were met with a wide grin from Chris, who leaned back on his hands to watch Daniel try to casually and quietly work himself into a frenzy.

"You have two hours," he offered, brows raised. "I think you could get a lot done in two hours. And I fully support less clothing. The more access to your dick that I can have, the better."

Again Daniel's mouth opened and immediately closed. He bit down on his tongue until whatever he had almost said passed. Then he leaned down over Chris, pressed an almost bruising kiss to his lips, and straightened up just as quickly. "I will be right. Back. Do not change your mind about this." Chris lingered on the bed, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

Costume in hand, Daniel turned on his heel. Thanks to his naturally long strides he kept himself from literally running from the room, but he moved nearly as fast all the same, slamming the door shut behind him.

One hour and seventeen minutes later, another knock sounded at the door. Daniel stood in the hallway, proudly dressed in his crisp, new costume, black boots polished to a fine shine. Chris answered the door, in his orange jumpsuit. He'd spiked his hair, angled backward, and even given his eyes some eyeliner, though moreso to accentuate the black domino mask he had in his hands.

Though tempted to drag Daniel inside and have his way with him simply in the comfortable confines of his apartment, he had promised Daniel—physically rather than verbally—that he wouldn't change his mind. So he stepped out of his apartment and into the hall, the hand pulling his apartment door closed by the knob showing a pair of plastic handcuffs hanging from one wrist.

"I've got a Lyft picking us up outside in five," he commented, sliding the mask over his face. "I've got one of these, too, if you want." He pulled it out of a baggy pocket in his pants, holding it out to Daniel. He took it and quickly fastened it in place, more to match his partner than out of any desire to be incognito; if it made their date go more smoothly, he was happy to do it.

Together, they beat a quick path toward the elevator and the front door of Pax Letale. Stephan was at the concierge's desk, the two costumed boys offering him a quick wave before heading outside into the slowly evaporating light of the October day. Chris kept glancing at his phone, as if carefully tracking the path of their pick up. He seemed a little uncomfortable in his costume, but was doing his best to smother it for Daniel's benefit.

Daniel, by contrast, seemed almost glowing with anticipation. He kept close to Chris as they waited on the curb, his glances lingering for as long as he thought he could risk. "I hate saying this," he said, "but you look hot as fuck right now. I'm gonna tell myself that's OK 'cause it's not a real prison jumpsuit…" He leaned back, looking at the handcuffs around Chris's wrist. "Those aren't real, right? Gonna have to get the real ones out when we get home."

Chris laughed, his phone dinging in his hand that their ride was near. He lifted the opposite hand, the plastic handcuffs dangling.

"Maybe, if you're good," he teased. The hand reached out, grabbing a button to pull him closer as his head tipped upward. There was no time for any reaction, though, as a silver Honda pulled up with a Lyft sticker in the windshield. Chris ushered Daniel inside, half-heartedly greeting their driver.

For once, he did not keep his hands to himself throughout the drive; his hand settled on Daniel's knee, his thumb tracing over the curve of it in a slow motion. Their driver concentrated on the road, which Chris was more than grateful for, and then they were there, being spilled out in front of the gay club that, even in the dim twilight of the evening, was already bumping.

"OK, I've got the cover," he murmured as he pulled his wallet out to pluck out a twenty. In keeping with tonight's theme, he grabbed Daniel by a belt loop and pulled him in the direction of the line; several onlookers already waiting for their turn for entry started hooting, one shouting out 'hey, shouldn't it be the other way around?' Chris just smirked, taking their place in line.

Daniel, now thoroughly reeling from the pleasure of their continued public pawing, leaned down to press his lips to Chris's ear. His teeth traced its sensitive shell and nipped at his lobe. "Y'know," he said, "I really don't mind the inmates runnin' this prison…"

Even as they lingered in the line, Daniel could not contain himself. He pressed close to Chris's back, his arms wrapped around his would-be ward's shoulders. His fingers stroked at bared flesh, touching everything in reach. The others in the line, far from dissuading him from his pursuits, only seemed to encourage him to touch more, whisper more, to see how far he could coax Chris to go. Already he felt drunk, heady with the surprise and the atmosphere and the scent of Chris's skin so close and warm. Chris, to his credit, did nothing to dissuade Daniel's actions and pressed back into the other man's embrace. After awhile, the other party-goers calmed themselves and began to ignore the cop and inmate couple, folding into their own groups and conversations.

"I'll buy the first round," Daniel said as they inched closer to the door. "Any requests? Speak now or forever hold your peace. Or you have the right to remain silent. I don't even know."

Chris laughed, his hands on top of Daniel's around his shoulders. "Beer, to start with, and then maybe some shots. Definitely some tequila at some point, but I don't want to get too sloppy," he countered, his eyes roving over the slowly moving line that was consistently consumed by the club's entrance. What struck him the most was how normal everyone else was treating them; not that he'd ever believed that he wasn't, or that he couldn't have a regular relationship, but the idea of being out and about, unrecognized, unharassed, was still too new to him.

They inched toward the doors; Chris's hand clasped on Daniel's lower arm, his butt grinding a little into Daniel's front. "You saying you don't have any requests?"

Daniel groaned into his ear, his hips pressing forward to meet that small motion. "Oh I do. Just not sure any of them are appropriate right now. They definitely won't be on the menu here." He nipped at Chris's neck, then pulled away, allowing him to move in peace as they reached the front of the line.

"I'm gonna start with shots. I don't want to get all puffy off beer and end up looking like a tubby cop. Nobody wants a tubby cop. Why don't we start with a few shots of a good reposado, and work our way down to the cheaper stuff."

Chris passed his money to the bouncer, who waved them inside; they were immediately hit by a wall of music, drowning out any and all replies Chris might have made. Instead, he grabbed Daniel's hand, weaving his fingers through the other man's, and started them through a dense cloud of half-naked bodies that were gyrating to the sound. Chris batted away other probing hands, focused on the one goal of making it to the bar as unmolested as possible with Daniel in tow.

They reached it only five minutes later, the wide expanse of the bar seeming even bigger in the dark and loose lighting that reigned over all. Chris pulled Daniel up into the small nook of space he'd been able to find between bodies.

"Fine, shots first," he half-yelled, leaning into Daniel's form. His hands went to either side of Daniel's waist, trimly outlined by his black shirt. "Though I don't mind a tubby cop. I like something to hold on to." He made a few brief, thrusting motions in Daniel's direction, all just to watch him squirm. And squirm he did, considerably, though the bulk of his movements seemed meant to press him all the closer to those thrusts.

Laughing, Daniel set himself to flagging down a shirtless bartender, and did not rest until his loudly-barked cries for attention were recognized. He shouted their order—an excess of shots for the two of them, truth be told—and turned back around, leaning against the bar. He wrapped his hands around Chris's arms, his grip firm and demanding as he pulled him close. Chris shuffled forward, not at all against Daniel's wishes.

"I like this," Daniel said, his voice raised to carry over the din. He braced his legs on either side of Chris; Chris let one thigh press forward, into the familiar shape of Daniel's bulge. Daniel's thumbs slid over the taut muscle of Chris's arms, stroking appreciatively. "I like seein' you like this."

Chris shook his head, grinning, though he had to agree; he felt good, unlike he had in a long time. He opened his mouth to reply but the bartender set six shots of Herradura down behind them with a little clatter of glass, and Daniel hurriedly opened a tab. He raised two of the small glasses, handing one to Chris, and clicked his own against its rim. Then he downed it and reached for their seconds.

His date hurried to follow, his teeth gritting after the first shot. He grabbed Daniel's wrist, slowing his enthusiasm.

"We got all night," he shouted, carefully taking a second shot in one hand. The liquid wobbled, and Chris held it out to the side as he let his other hand curl around Daniel's neck, pulling the other man closer. They weren't the first couple making out at the bar; handfuls of grasping, needy couples and threesomes were already well ahead of them. But Chris grinned as he pulled his boyfriend's mouth down to his, tasting the familiar scent of him mixed with liquor. His tongue traced the seam of Daniel's mouth, pushing in slowly; his hips followed the motion, thrusting against Daniel's body, his thigh sliding back and forth over Daniel's groin.

With only a thin layer of synthetic material holding him in place, Daniel's body's response was immediate and apparent. He was grateful for the dim lighting, the thumping music, the press of the crowd; they were the only things that kept him from being stupidly, boyishly obvious with his rising lust. He pressed forward into Chris's kiss, so forcefully it jostled the shot glass in his hand. Tequila spilled over his fingers. He ignored it, unconcerned, and greedily slid his tongue over his partner's. His free hand slid around Chris's waist, to the small of his back, then drifted lower for a tight squeeze of one orange-suited cheek.

Chris groaned low into Daniel's mouth, grateful for the loose pants around his waist. One last kiss pressed tightly against Daniel's lips, and then Chris pulled back, smirking, before taking his second shot. Brows rose, inviting Daniel into the challenge.

"You gonna keep up?"

Daniel clicked his tongue. "Are you?" he shot back. He downed what was left in his second glass and reached for the third, as though it had suddenly become some sort of race. But for all his bravado his heart pounded in his chest, and his stomach was turning flips from sheer pleasure. Chris followed without hesitation, alcohol burning its way down his throat.

Daniel's third shot went down with dangerous smoothness; the moment it left his hand his grip returned to Chris's waist, tugging him away from the bar and onto the dance floor. Chris did not object, though the brace and the alcohol in his system made him lean more heavily than he would have liked on Daniel, had he been sober. Hands slid down from his partner's arms to his waist, pulling him close, grinding against every available part he could get ahold of. At least one kept venturing up, grabbing at Daniel's nape, pulling either his forehead down or his mouth so sharp teeth could nip at his bottom lip. All too soon it was growing hot inside the dark environment, and more than once they were joined by a third or fourth party grinding up behind him or Daniel.

Chris did his best to ignore it, his attention wholly on the person he'd organized this event for. Finally, it was all he could do to just to pull Daniel close, fingers wound into his black hair as he pulled his mouth down again, biting the swell of his bottom lip as his hand found its nosy way down to Daniel's crotch.

The sound of Daniel's groan was lost in the pounding music, but it sent a subtle vibration through Chris's skin. He held Chris up against him, grinding along with him to the beat, the noticeable swell of his arousal no longer registering any concern. Everyone around them was in much the same state; joy and lust hung in the air thick as smoke. One song bled into another, and Daniel slowed to ease their frenetic pace. They drifted toward the edge of the dance floor, still tangled in one another, now sweat-slick and panting.

Daniel kissed him again. Seeking fingers pulled at the zipper on the jumpsuit's front. He touched flushed skin beneath, ever hungry for more. With one hand still holding Chris up against him, Daniel leaned down, his lips pressed to Chris's ear. "You feel what you do to me? God. I wanna fuck you til you scream. I want everybody to hear us."

Chris couldn't help but laugh, his hands keeping their grip on Daniel's form keeping him aloft.

"I think you've got your work cut out for you, there," he whisper-growled in return. "But I know where you can try." He tipped forward and up again, catching Daniel's lips once more before drawing back. A hand slipped into Daniel's and he was leading him through the crowd toward the one place they'd be given some modicum of privacy; perhaps if Daniel had been in any other mood, he might have objected, given how he'd taken Chris's explanations the other night in the middle of a garbage-strewn alley. But for now, Chris brushed past a few others making their way back from the bathroom (somehow still divided into men's and women's, even when the club seemed filled with nothing but the former).

Together, they stumbled through the doors, and Chris turned about to pull Daniel back to him, tugging him toward the stalls. Daniel fisted his hands in the cloth hanging open at Chris's chest. He pushed him backward. The stall door banged open and slammed into the wall behind. Daniel's mouth was on him even as he kicked the door closed behind them.

Greedy, possessive, and more than a little intoxicated, Daniel kept his grip on Chris's costume as he reached behind himself to lock the stall door. Even here the pulsing bass of the club's music reverberated; Daniel felt it in his shoulders as he brushed against the wall. He gathered Chris up in his arms, turning to put Chris's back to the side of the stall. His breath came hard and ragged as he pressed his teeth to Chris's jaw, tracing its bearded line with biting kisses. Chris tilted his head back, whimpering as his hands flexed at Daniel's shoulders.

"Ugh, papi," he groaned, pulling Daniel against him; the hard outline of his brace made it difficult to wrap his legs completely around his boyfriend's waist, but he did so as much as he could manage. Hands grasped as handfuls of Daniel's shirt; he pulled back enough to unbutton Daniel's shirt or at least start to, getting greedy and pressing hands to smooth, firm, warm skin. He got far enough down to allow himself access to most of Daniel's chest, shoving the shirt back over one shoulder so his fingers could tweak one already pebbled nipple.

"What're you waiting for, papi," he whispered, rolling his body against Daniel's to pull his attention back to other areas. The bathroom door opened, music pouring in like a tidal wave, the sounds of other bar patrons using the sink and the other stall.

Daniel groaned. Only that single sound was drowned out by the noise of the club. Then the door shut once more, plunging the lot of them into relative quiet. This by no means dissuaded Daniel. He grinned against Chris's throat, his tongue flicking out to trace the hollow there; Chris's head tilted back, his spine bowing. And still Daniel's hands wandered lower, pushing the jumpsuit's zipper down as far as it would go. Fingers splayed to touch sharp hips and bared thighs, then came to rest curled tight around Chris's length; Chris shuddered against that touch, his hands clasping. Biting at his clavicle, Daniel touched him with rough, demanding strokes. A moan met his efforts, Chris thrusting his hips in time with his partner's motions.

The faucet turned off. The door opened, closed, opened again. Daniel held Chris pinned to the wall, their bodies pressed tight as he moved a hand between them to unzip his fly. The cheap zipper caught; he pulled, and luckily it came undone without tearing. Then a knock came at the stall door, loud and impatient.

"Somebody in there? Hurry up, I gotta powder my nose."

"Fuck off," Daniel mumbled, his mouth still pressed to Chris's chest.

"Seriously? There's only two fucking stalls—"

"Fuck off!" Chris joined in, shouting hoarsely. Whoever was attempting to gain entrance to the stall wandered off, muttering to himself; the door to the bathroom didn't open again, implying he was waiting for someone to exit a stall. Chris's attention was wholly on Daniel, though, his hands touching the sides of the other man's face, his shoulders, neck, nape, everywhere he could reach, over and over again.

"Fuck me, papi, I want you to fuck me," Chris whispered roughly, his mouth pressed to Daniel's hairline, his forehead, gasping as his hips continued to thrust against Daniel's hand.

Daniel pulled his hand from between them, dragging his fingertips over every inch of his partner's length as he went. His shirt was a rumpled mess, almost entirely unbuttoned, his chest and one shoulder bared. His pants slipped down to pool on the dirty floor. He could not have possibly cared less. As the party-goer outside their stall huffed and sighed, Daniel spat into his hand, probing fingers slicking Chris's tight entrance. He made no effort at all to be quiet; he moaned against Chris's throat as he guided him open, and again as he fitted himself close against slick skin. Somewhere along the way, through all the fondling and cheap material, a large hole had ripped its way between Chris's legs.

The stall wall creaked as he thrust into his partner; Chris's back bowed, a choked cry strangling his throat. Daniel's hands curled tight around Chris's thighs, holding him up, keeping him in place as he withdrew and thrust again. Chris curled his left leg tighter around Daniel's hips as the feeling of Daniel's hard cock filled him; hips moved against his partner's thrusts, pushing down as much as he could. For the most part, though, he was left suspended between Daniel's warm body and the cold, hard wall, and Chris could not say that he did not like the experience. His arms wound tight around Daniel's shoulders, the man's shirt sliding open and closed as they wound together.

"Dios, te amo," Chris whispered, the side of his face pressed tight to Daniel's profile. He shuddered as Daniel thrust into him again, a whimpering moan echoing against Daniel's ear. Each thrust brought another stroke on his member caught between their undulating forms. "God, don't stop, God, I love you, please don't stop."

At first Daniel was sure he had misheard. But when those words were repeated, drawn directly on his skin, he let himself believe them. His hands drew tight at Chris's thighs, pressing bruises into taut flesh. He moaned Chris's name against his temple, his voice loud enough to carry out into the larger room. A shudder raced down his spine as he bucked hard into Chris again.

"I love you," Daniel gasped. His nails dug into skin, as though fearful Chris might slip away. It felt like a dam breaking; once he said it, he could not stop himself repeating it. "I love you," he said again, and again, feeling his orgasm building at a desperate pace. Chris clung to Daniel's form, moans underscoring everything he was feeling from the words eking out of Daniel's mouth, hips moving in time with Daniel's thrusts as he felt his own pleasure heighten. Then he was coming, a hot spurt over his and Daniel's front, over his costume and the black fabric of Daniel's shirt. As his body clenched tight around his own, Daniel joined him, crying out as he buried himself in Chris's warmth once more.

Panting, Chris held Daniel fast with arms and legs, the cold tile at his back cooling the heat rushing through his form from his orgasm. He couldn't stop grinning, his teeth and lips tracing a pattern along Daniel's jaw. Daniel trembled again, a broken moan falling from his lips as he canted his head toward Chris's teeth.

The bathroom had gone utterly quiet; there was no-one left to hear. Yet Daniel held his tongue, listening to the sounds of their breathing slow, feeling their pounding hearts easing into a steadier rhythm. He kissed his partner as he lowered him gently to the floor. His arms stayed tight around him, holding him up; Chris caught himself against one of the walls, his legs not yet steady. His hands were trembling. With their costumes torn and stained, their bare, sweat-slick flesh still touched in countless places; already Daniel found himself fidgeting, ready to be home and rid of what little cloth remained.

He looked down at Chris, one hand fitted tenderly to his jaw. He did not ask if Chris had meant it; did not repeat the words that were still too new, too fragile, to risk after the heat of the moment had passed. Instead he only smiled, kissed Chris again, and leaned down to retrieve his flimsy, fallen trousers. Chris made slow, careful work of the remnants of his own costume; the zipper was thankfully whole, though that did little for the hole he could feel easily between his thighs. He swayed a little, a mix of liquor and the last bleed of his orgasm making him feel sleepy.

"So what's next, papi?" He asked softly, leaning harder against the stall wall; his voice was almost drowned out just through the sonic waves thumping through the walls. He lifted the wrist that still had the plastic handcuffs dangling from it. "You wanna go home and get the real ones out?"

"I really, really do."

With his pants refastened and his shirt as presentable as he was going to get it, Daniel slipped an arm around Chris's shoulders and helped him out of the stall. His partner reciprocated, an arm around Daniel's waist; partly an excuse to help him remain standing, partly just to be able to touch him. As they made their way out with slow, careful steps, Daniel could not stop himself glancing down at Chris again and again. His hand rubbed soft at the small of his back. He stayed close as they wound through the crowd, his grip loose but somehow possessive. They paused at the bar for him to close out the tab.

"One more for the road?" Daniel asked, bent low with his mouth at Chris's ear. Chris shivered, his grin continuing unabated; the arm around Daniel's waist tightened, though the movement wasn't visible among the throng in the club.

"Whatever you want, papi," he replied, one hand rising to adjust the domino over his face. "Just next time let's end up in a bed, instead of a bathroom, está bien?"