[Now that's the kind of raw lust Seb likes to see dripping from someone's gaze when they can't tear it off him. He's so much more accustomed to the rising simmer under his skin that he has no problem holding eye contact in a moment like this, but it's fiercely gratifying when Siwan's eyes follow the expanse of his shoulders down his chest and abdomen only to become caught on his narrow waist and hips. This is what he's made for and Siwan's performing his role perfectly so far.
It's odd, though... when Siwan finally finds the rhythm and starts to move his own body, Seb feels proud of him. His happiness that Siwan has broken through all the conditioning and can let himself just exist for awhile is pure and uncomplicated in a way that happiness has almost never felt for him before.
Then their eyes meet again and that fleeting moment of wholesomeness pops like a soap bubble.
Seb slithers closer, almost close enough for their bodies to brush together, then turns his back to Siwan and lets him watch as he slides his hands through his own hair, down his own neck and over his collarbones, his pecs, over the rolling ridges of his abs - the same path Siwan's eyes took earlier, right down to rest on his hips as he gives them a playful swivel. All with their faces nearly cheek to cheek.]
(( He really is like a living work of art, this stranger who's quickly becoming less and less of that. Not that this place isn't full of attractive men, but there's just something Siwan can't quite nail down about Seb that sets him apart. He seems so at ease, it's enviable, but... Siwan admires it, too. He's just so comfortable with who he is, where he is, what he is (which is not at all what Siwan is thinking he is, what a surprise that might be for a later date). And on top of that, Seb has the audacity to be beautiful, to be sexy (be honest, Siwan. He's sexy, no question).
Oh. It's definitely hot in here. Or maybe it's just them. Maybe they're the heat in the room. Wherever it's coming from, that heat is burning right through Siwan. But it's pleasant now, the way it melts through and settles under skin, working deeper still to the very marrow of his bones. No, it's not as subtle as melting. It lanced straight through him suddenly, like a lightning strike. But still... it didn't feel like something Siwan wants to push away.
Especially not with the way Seb glides closer. Not with the way they were only barely not touching. Not with the way he could feel something enticing in that scant space between them. Danger. Promise. (Promise of what? Siwan's not sure, but there's a pull like gravity around Seb and he's found himself caught in the man's orbit)
It's not quite instinct (how could it be when Siwan's never done anything like this in his entire life?), but he finds his hands moving toward Seb, toward that narrow waist practically begging to be held. His fingers flex and he stops short. Hands off, that was the caveat, was it not? Hands off. Surely Seb can feel his hands simply hovering there... ))
Is it okay...?
(( It's so hard to hear anything over the blasting music and his own pounding heart. But they're so close, nearly cheek to cheek. Close enough that hopefully even quiet words that were barely man breath against Seb's ear can be discerned. ))
Edited (ok, you can reply now!) 2025-03-31 04:01 (UTC)
[By the time Siwan asks, Seb is desperate for his touch. He's desperate for any contact with Siwan, half-drunk on the desire rising palpably between them and almost ready to throw his ass back on Siwan's crotch and let the chips fall where they may. But then Siwan's hands reach for him and hesitate - for his waist, which is a delectably commanding choice - and Seb's mouth splits into a toothy smile.
Instead of answering aloud, Seb just guides said hands where they want to be with his own and holds them there for a moment to encourage Siwan's fingers to get a good grip. His body's still moving in those long, rolling arcs and now that touch is no longer taboo, he wraps an arm up behind Siwan's head and curls his fingers into all that pretty hair.]
It's more fun like this anyway.
[Evidently Seb's not protecting Siwan from himself anymore.]
(( This is so, so much for a guy who's spent his entire life so far in the closet his postal address is in Narnia. He's done little more than let his eyes linger on a handsome man for a few seconds longer than necessary. So, yeah, this? This is A LotTM.
That first touch, Seb's hands taking his, is like a lightning strike. It feels far more intimate than such mundane contact should. It's like, for one split second, the world tipped sideways then snapped right back into place — something that happened so quickly Siwan's not sure anyone else even noticed. It's so loud no one probably heard the way he gasped. And even though Seb's close (so very deliciously close), he probably couldn't feel the way Siwan's already hammering heart sped up. Seriously, is he spiking a fever right now?
A lot of the dancing aspect is easier now. That's a relief. He can just stick close (too close, this feels so much like fire) and follow Seb's lead. No need to think about the music, just close his eyes and move in time with the obviously very toned body against his. And if, maybe, one hand slips from Seb's waist to settle just a bit below his navel, that's okay, too, right? ))
[It's very okay, more than okay, but it pulls a noise out from between Seb's lips that might be less okay for Siwan's current state: something between a hum and a moan of pleasure, impossible to stifle with Siwan's hand so low on his body. Well, there's always the chance that it, like Siwan's gasp, will get smothered by the music.
But at this point it's hard to ignore that Seb's also far from unaffected by what they're doing. He, too, can feel that same heat throbbing to life not far from Siwan's adventurous hand, and he's well-versed enough in real arousal to know it for what it is - he wants this man so much it's starting to hurt. So why does something keep pulling him back before he can indulge in what most would call his worst behavior? Why is he still playing coy and letting Siwan set the pace when he could definitely just spin around, grab him by the ass and grind their dicks together until Siwan forgets the meaning of the word 'no'?
The whys don't really matter. All that matters is the fact that Seb cannot make himself take advantage of Siwan and that leaves one other option now that they're right on the precipice and Seb can't bear to lose him either: tell Siwan the truth.]
Fuck... [Not a great start, heated and breathy as it comes out.] ... I want you so bad...
(( The sound that came from Siwan's lips, quiet though it might have been, is absolutely pornographic. He's been burning up since they left their seats at the bar, which, admittedly hasn't been long, but — god! — it's long enough. Over 20 years of marriage and he's never once felt as wanted as he does right now. Nor has he wanted like he does right now. Maybe in his head, about some intangible, imaginary figure; never for someone real. A
And here's Seb, this gorgeous man who didn't immediately come on to him but just offered to talk. This man whose lips form words so beautiful, whose stare is just the perfect mix of playful and coquettish. Whose body moves in ways that send even Siwan's mind spiraling straight into the gutter of filthy imaginings. Oh, what might he look like in less? With more of that toned body on display, full view of that honey-gold skin, and all the curves and contours of muscle and bone...
There's no way on Earth Seb can't feel the effect he's having.
Siwan, or rather the part of him that isn't lost in this lustful fog, wants to say he's sorry, he has to go home, he's sorry for the bother (and the cold shower Seb will likely want to have). But he doesn't. He simply can't pluck those words from the heated haze coiled around his brain, numbing to to logic and leaving only an animalistic urge.
What can he say in the face of a desire he's never experienced before? His own and Seb's directed at him. What's he supposed to say? How does he answer that? Not with words. With the fingers still above Seb's hip curling tighter. With the hand low on his bellying pulling Seb even closer until it becomes questionable if there's even a molecule of air between them. With another of those erotic sounds directly in Seb's ear as Siwan pulls him back. ))
[That last tug toward him is all it takes for Seb to feel Siwan pressing hard and insistent against his ass and it snaps his last thread of control clean in half. There's no thought behind his movements when he spins around to face Siwan and seals their mouths together, no greater plan when he wedges a thigh tight between Siwan's legs and grinds mercilessly on him.
They're two beings of pure need colliding now, nothing but tongues and lips and hips and cocks. Seb's blood is running so hot that they probably don't even belong out here on the dance floor anymore and, having forgotten everything but the crush of their bodies and the hot core of his own arousal, there's only one logical step for Seb to take next. He breaks off the kiss and grabs onto Siwan's wrist to drag him deeper into the club, beyond the dance floor and even the DJ booth.
If Siwan doesn't want his first time with a guy to be in a gay club bathroom, he'll have to speak up pretty quick because Seb's already got him backed into a stall with the door locked behind them and his tongue's back in Siwan's mouth even as his hands head for his belt.]
(( Be reasonable! How is Siwan supposed to speak up with Seb's tongue in his mouth? Huh? Huh?
Well, it's not a one-sided kiss either. As soon as they're in the relative privacy of the bathroom, Siwan shoves his hands into Seb's hair and presses closer (right up until he feels Seb's hands wedging between them and he make the tiniest bit of space to accommodate them). Is this what real desire feels like? How do people live with it?
For his part of it, that kiss is sloppy. Sloppy and so desperate in the way his tongue presses back against Seb's, in the way their teeth scrape. Ah, but he wants to memorize all of this. The shape of Seb's mouth, the taste of him and whatever he's been drinking, the way all of this feels (and maybe some parts more than others). He stumbles back against the stall's wall, a hand flying to to brace himself and the tiniest klink of his wedding band against the stall brings all of this crashing down.
How he even heard it is anyone's guess over their panting and groaning. Over the music still thumping outside the door. But he did. It echoed like thunder on a silent night. Mocking him. Damning him.
And suddenly it's his hands between shoved between them, weakly trying to put enough space between them to breathe. To catch his breathe — just let him catch his breath —, to have a coherent thought. ))
[That's it, Seb thinks when Siwan finally pushes him away instead of pulling him closer, it's over.
Then he snaps out of his own blinding fog of lust just enough to see where they are, how far he's pushed Siwan already, and he despises himself for feeing bitter and disappointed despite already having claimed so much more than Siwan was ready to give. What the fuck is wrong with him?
It's not a strong push, but Seb lets the momentum carry him to the opposite wall of the stall just to make sure his body doesn't betray him. Between the dizzying kisses and the sheer exertion of keeping himself away from Siwan, Seb's breathing like he's halfway through his third marathon of the day.]
I know. [He keeps his gaze locked on the floor, uncommonly subdued and cowed.] I know, shit, fuck - I'm sorry...
[This wasn't the impression he wanted to make. He was supposed to be different from the other guys Siwan could've met at the club. He was supposed to be better.]
(( The space does little to help, initially. Siwan only finds himself wanting to close it again, to return to those fiery kisses and wherever they may lead them. But he manages a few breaths to clear away a little of the fog in which he's found himself. A few breaths that do nothing to calm his racing heart or cool the fever burning his skin.
He should explain that he wants to do this, that he wants Seb (oh god how he wants Seb!). He should offer the reason for pushing him away, for stopping something they were both very clearly enjoying, and yet, all he can manage is a quietly panted: ))
[Seb just nods, still not daring to look up from the floor. He knows Siwan can't do this. The magnetic tug between them is demanding that they do, but Siwan's still a good enough man to fight back.
With another quiet click that reverberates like gunfire through the bathroom, Seb unlocks their stall.]
Siwan... [His voice is suddenly thin and tight with - fear? Is that what it is?] I swear I'm not just - just some horny scumbag, okay? I'm not the piece of shit I look like right now. I - I like you. As a person.
[Oh he feels sick. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. If this is vulnerability he never, ever wants to indulge it again.]
Will you - you can just delete it the second you get out of here, whatever, but will you at least take my number? I need there to be a chance that I haven't fucked this up completely.
[Hands balled up into fists at his sides. Spine stiff despite his lowered head. It's like Sobek is bracing for a fight, and maybe he is - an internal fight between the animal and rational being embodied in his godly form.]
(( Siwan's also struggling to look at Seb right now. If he does, his resolve to be a good husband just might crumble away completely. Shoes sure are interesting right now. There are definitely some shoes on their feet. Nice shoes. Perfectly safe to look at shoes. Shoes that don't have beautiful eyes and tempting lips...
He's still trying to catch his breath when he hears the stall unlock. He should fling himself at the door, at escape from this delicious temptation. He should race to put distance between himself and the one who left his lips tingling and sweat dotting his skin (after so very little... horny teenagers have done more than they have together). And yet...
He stands there long enough for Seb to make his request. And then longer as he slowly pulls his phone from his jacket pocket and holds it out (with shaking hands). ))
[This doesn't mean he'll ever hear from Siwan again, but...
He takes Siwan's phone carefully, not even letting their fingers brush together, and creates a contact for himself. Just "Seb", with his number set as work instead of cell in case Siwan has to make up a story about him sometime in the future. A small kindness that probably won't mean anything in the long run.
Seb doesn't ask for Siwan's number. He can't trust himself with it. Once he's pressed the phone back into Siwan's hand, he just slips out of the stall and heads for the sinks to wash his hands so he doesn't have to watch Siwan leave. Fuck, his hard-on can probably be seen from space right now...]
(( That's a thoughtful gesture that Siwan will appreciate — at a later time, when he actually looks for Seb's contact in his phone. Some later time Siwan's not even considering right now. He just wants to slip out of here, out of this bathroom, out of this club with as little fanfare as possible.
Siwan at least has the benefit of his suit jacket to hide the very obvious tent in his pants. Attempt to hide. And while Seb's putting his info into Siwan's phone, he's pulling the jacket closed and fastening the buttons. That'll do until he gets to his car. There's no one there he needs to hide from. Once he gets home? That might be a little trickier. How best to slip by Hyejin for the cold shower he so desperately needs?
That's the plan he's formulating when Seb hands his phone back. Siwan nods once in thanks, a barely audible thank you in accompaniment before he scurries out of the bathroom to head home.
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no subject
It's odd, though... when Siwan finally finds the rhythm and starts to move his own body, Seb feels proud of him. His happiness that Siwan has broken through all the conditioning and can let himself just exist for awhile is pure and uncomplicated in a way that happiness has almost never felt for him before.
Then their eyes meet again and that fleeting moment of wholesomeness pops like a soap bubble.
Seb slithers closer, almost close enough for their bodies to brush together, then turns his back to Siwan and lets him watch as he slides his hands through his own hair, down his own neck and over his collarbones, his pecs, over the rolling ridges of his abs - the same path Siwan's eyes took earlier, right down to rest on his hips as he gives them a playful swivel. All with their faces nearly cheek to cheek.]
no subject
Oh. It's definitely hot in here. Or maybe it's just them. Maybe they're the heat in the room. Wherever it's coming from, that heat is burning right through Siwan. But it's pleasant now, the way it melts through and settles under skin, working deeper still to the very marrow of his bones. No, it's not as subtle as melting. It lanced straight through him suddenly, like a lightning strike. But still... it didn't feel like something Siwan wants to push away.
Especially not with the way Seb glides closer. Not with the way they were only barely not touching. Not with the way he could feel something enticing in that scant space between them. Danger. Promise. (Promise of what? Siwan's not sure, but there's a pull like gravity around Seb and he's found himself caught in the man's orbit)
It's not quite instinct (how could it be when Siwan's never done anything like this in his entire life?), but he finds his hands moving toward Seb, toward that narrow waist practically begging to be held. His fingers flex and he stops short. Hands off, that was the caveat, was it not? Hands off. Surely Seb can feel his hands simply hovering there... ))
Is it okay...?
(( It's so hard to hear anything over the blasting music and his own pounding heart. But they're so close, nearly cheek to cheek. Close enough that hopefully even quiet words that were barely man breath against Seb's ear can be discerned. ))
no subject
Instead of answering aloud, Seb just guides said hands where they want to be with his own and holds them there for a moment to encourage Siwan's fingers to get a good grip. His body's still moving in those long, rolling arcs and now that touch is no longer taboo, he wraps an arm up behind Siwan's head and curls his fingers into all that pretty hair.]
It's more fun like this anyway.
[Evidently Seb's not protecting Siwan from himself anymore.]
no subject
That first touch, Seb's hands taking his, is like a lightning strike. It feels far more intimate than such mundane contact should. It's like, for one split second, the world tipped sideways then snapped right back into place — something that happened so quickly Siwan's not sure anyone else even noticed. It's so loud no one probably heard the way he gasped. And even though Seb's close (so very deliciously close), he probably couldn't feel the way Siwan's already hammering heart sped up. Seriously, is he spiking a fever right now?
A lot of the dancing aspect is easier now. That's a relief. He can just stick close (too close, this feels so much like fire) and follow Seb's lead. No need to think about the music, just close his eyes and move in time with the obviously very toned body against his. And if, maybe, one hand slips from Seb's waist to settle just a bit below his navel, that's okay, too, right? ))
no subject
But at this point it's hard to ignore that Seb's also far from unaffected by what they're doing. He, too, can feel that same heat throbbing to life not far from Siwan's adventurous hand, and he's well-versed enough in real arousal to know it for what it is - he wants this man so much it's starting to hurt. So why does something keep pulling him back before he can indulge in what most would call his worst behavior? Why is he still playing coy and letting Siwan set the pace when he could definitely just spin around, grab him by the ass and grind their dicks together until Siwan forgets the meaning of the word 'no'?
The whys don't really matter. All that matters is the fact that Seb cannot make himself take advantage of Siwan and that leaves one other option now that they're right on the precipice and Seb can't bear to lose him either: tell Siwan the truth.]
Fuck... [Not a great start, heated and breathy as it comes out.] ... I want you so bad...
no subject
And here's Seb, this gorgeous man who didn't immediately come on to him but just offered to talk. This man whose lips form words so beautiful, whose stare is just the perfect mix of playful and coquettish. Whose body moves in ways that send even Siwan's mind spiraling straight into the gutter of filthy imaginings. Oh, what might he look like in less? With more of that toned body on display, full view of that honey-gold skin, and all the curves and contours of muscle and bone...
There's no way on Earth Seb can't feel the effect he's having.
Siwan, or rather the part of him that isn't lost in this lustful fog, wants to say he's sorry, he has to go home, he's sorry for the bother (and the cold shower Seb will likely want to have). But he doesn't. He simply can't pluck those words from the heated haze coiled around his brain, numbing to to logic and leaving only an animalistic urge.
What can he say in the face of a desire he's never experienced before? His own and Seb's directed at him. What's he supposed to say? How does he answer that? Not with words. With the fingers still above Seb's hip curling tighter. With the hand low on his bellying pulling Seb even closer until it becomes questionable if there's even a molecule of air between them. With another of those erotic sounds directly in Seb's ear as Siwan pulls him back. ))
no subject
They're two beings of pure need colliding now, nothing but tongues and lips and hips and cocks. Seb's blood is running so hot that they probably don't even belong out here on the dance floor anymore and, having forgotten everything but the crush of their bodies and the hot core of his own arousal, there's only one logical step for Seb to take next. He breaks off the kiss and grabs onto Siwan's wrist to drag him deeper into the club, beyond the dance floor and even the DJ booth.
If Siwan doesn't want his first time with a guy to be in a gay club bathroom, he'll have to speak up pretty quick because Seb's already got him backed into a stall with the door locked behind them and his tongue's back in Siwan's mouth even as his hands head for his belt.]
no subject
Well, it's not a one-sided kiss either. As soon as they're in the relative privacy of the bathroom, Siwan shoves his hands into Seb's hair and presses closer (right up until he feels Seb's hands wedging between them and he make the tiniest bit of space to accommodate them). Is this what real desire feels like? How do people live with it?
For his part of it, that kiss is sloppy. Sloppy and so desperate in the way his tongue presses back against Seb's, in the way their teeth scrape. Ah, but he wants to memorize all of this. The shape of Seb's mouth, the taste of him and whatever he's been drinking, the way all of this feels (and maybe some parts more than others). He stumbles back against the stall's wall, a hand flying to to brace himself and the tiniest klink of his wedding band against the stall brings all of this crashing down.
How he even heard it is anyone's guess over their panting and groaning. Over the music still thumping outside the door. But he did. It echoed like thunder on a silent night. Mocking him. Damning him.
And suddenly it's his hands between shoved between them, weakly trying to put enough space between them to breathe. To catch his breathe — just let him catch his breath —, to have a coherent thought. ))
Wait... wait...
no subject
Then he snaps out of his own blinding fog of lust just enough to see where they are, how far he's pushed Siwan already, and he despises himself for feeing bitter and disappointed despite already having claimed so much more than Siwan was ready to give. What the fuck is wrong with him?
It's not a strong push, but Seb lets the momentum carry him to the opposite wall of the stall just to make sure his body doesn't betray him. Between the dizzying kisses and the sheer exertion of keeping himself away from Siwan, Seb's breathing like he's halfway through his third marathon of the day.]
I know. [He keeps his gaze locked on the floor, uncommonly subdued and cowed.] I know, shit, fuck - I'm sorry...
[This wasn't the impression he wanted to make. He was supposed to be different from the other guys Siwan could've met at the club. He was supposed to be better.]
no subject
He should explain that he wants to do this, that he wants Seb (oh god how he wants Seb!). He should offer the reason for pushing him away, for stopping something they were both very clearly enjoying, and yet, all he can manage is a quietly panted: ))
I can't do this...
no subject
With another quiet click that reverberates like gunfire through the bathroom, Seb unlocks their stall.]
Siwan... [His voice is suddenly thin and tight with - fear? Is that what it is?] I swear I'm not just - just some horny scumbag, okay? I'm not the piece of shit I look like right now. I - I like you. As a person.
[Oh he feels sick. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. If this is vulnerability he never, ever wants to indulge it again.]
Will you - you can just delete it the second you get out of here, whatever, but will you at least take my number? I need there to be a chance that I haven't fucked this up completely.
[Hands balled up into fists at his sides. Spine stiff despite his lowered head. It's like Sobek is bracing for a fight, and maybe he is - an internal fight between the animal and rational being embodied in his godly form.]
no subject
He's still trying to catch his breath when he hears the stall unlock. He should fling himself at the door, at escape from this delicious temptation. He should race to put distance between himself and the one who left his lips tingling and sweat dotting his skin (after so very little... horny teenagers have done more than they have together). And yet...
He stands there long enough for Seb to make his request. And then longer as he slowly pulls his phone from his jacket pocket and holds it out (with shaking hands). ))
no subject
He takes Siwan's phone carefully, not even letting their fingers brush together, and creates a contact for himself. Just "Seb", with his number set as work instead of cell in case Siwan has to make up a story about him sometime in the future. A small kindness that probably won't mean anything in the long run.
Seb doesn't ask for Siwan's number. He can't trust himself with it. Once he's pressed the phone back into Siwan's hand, he just slips out of the stall and heads for the sinks to wash his hands so he doesn't have to watch Siwan leave. Fuck, his hard-on can probably be seen from space right now...]
no subject
Siwan at least has the benefit of his suit jacket to hide the very obvious tent in his pants. Attempt to hide. And while Seb's putting his info into Siwan's phone, he's pulling the jacket closed and fastening the buttons. That'll do until he gets to his car. There's no one there he needs to hide from. Once he gets home? That might be a little trickier. How best to slip by Hyejin for the cold shower he so desperately needs?
That's the plan he's formulating when Seb hands his phone back. Siwan nods once in thanks, a barely audible thank you in accompaniment before he scurries out of the bathroom to head home.
This whole night was ill-conceived. ))