renaissanceman | (no subject)

Granby rolls his eyes and rests his chin on his curled fist.

"I'm sitting here, aren't I?"

"Good," says Priestly, and blithely leaves him there as he disappears out back for a few moments, complete faith that John will be right where he left him when he comes back. Because oh, if John wants to play it that way, Priestly has all kinds of ideas.

Granby's still there when he comes back but he has moved to sketching on a discarded paper napkin. He glances up, eyebrows raised.

"Almost done," says Priestly, giving him another little grope on his way by. "If a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing right. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Absolutely," says Granby and, this time, he definitely pushes into the brush of Priestly's hand across the front of his trousers.

"It just seems to be taking an awfully long time, and I'v never exactly been renowned for patience."

"Yeah, I might've noticed that about you," says Priestly. "You're a guy who likes to get what he wants, when he wants it." And Priestly wonders, for a moment, if that's because it wasn't always an option. But he doesn't let himself linger on that for long.

"You weren't complaining about that before," says Granby, setting down his pencil and reaching for his glass, giving Priestly a grin as he knocks back the rest of his drink.

"And I'm definitely not complaining about it now," says Priestly, hanging up his apron and smoothing his hands over his hair, reforming it into a perfect peak. "Another drink? You doing all right?"

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" asks Granby, grinning, even as he pushes the glass across the bar. "Because I should tell you that Aviators are famously difficult to drink under the table."

He arches an eyebrow.

"I can also think of things far more interesting than drinking."

"I don't need to get you drunk to get what I want," says Priestly, taking the glass but not refilling it again. He runs his finger around the rim, then tucks it in behind the bar. "What else are aviators famous for?"

Granby can't help but think that's a loaded question, but he gives it some thought, anyway.

"Balance, adaptability and not always being the best at following orders," he says, flashing a grin. "But we get the job done."

"We should've talked like this sooner," says Priestly, wrapping his hand around John's wrist so he can't go anywhere, or do anything. "I never realized we had so much in common."

His eyebrows raise at the grip around his wrist. He looks down and then back up again.

"Oh, really?" he asks.
Notably, he doesn't try to pull away.

"So what did bring you here tonight?" says Priestly. Not what brought him to Priestly, but what brought him here tonight. "Looking for something in particular?"

"It's been one of those days," says Granby, flexing his fingers but still not pulling out of Priestly's grip. "Nothing's gone right. So I came looking for you to ensure that something...would."

"So I'm a sure thing, is that it?" says Priestly. John is certainly not wrong about that. "I promise you I will do some very, very right things to you, very, very soon."

"If not sure then nearly certain," says Granby, and he can't keep the slightly cocky note out of his voice, the tilt to his head.

"I'll attempt to be patient."
His fingers curl. He's not missed the fact that Priestly's still holding onto his wrist.

"You don't really have all that much of a choice," says Priestly, leaning across the bar and kissing him firmly. Maybe a little possessively. "Your place or mine? Or..." And he looks around a little bit. "Are both of those things just a little too far from here to be ideal?"

And now he's aware of his cock again, pressing against his jeans. He leans forward into the kiss. When it breaks, he lifts his eyebrow.

"Are you seriously suggesting fucking in the back room of a bar?"

The look on his face says that he definitely wouldn't be adverse.

"We could do it in the front room, if you'd rather," says Priestly, as though that's the only question, "but I can't promise we wouldn't be interrupted. The owner probably wouldn't mind, but I figured you might."

"You tell me," says Granby, never one to back down from a challenge, a definite tilt to his chin, now. He leans across the bar, catching his weight on his elbow.

"Going to tell me what you've got in mind?"

"Wasn't planning to, no," says Priestly, moving towards the end of the bar without letting go of John's wrist. "That's not a requirement, is it?"

"I suppose not, no," says Granby, tugged to his feet and following Priestly. He knows that he could get his wrist back if he wanted to...

But he doesn't really want to.

Priestly knows how much power he's taking, when he controls John's one good hand, but he feels like they're comfortable enough with one another that he can do that now, and he knows that it's more the suggestion of controlling him than any actual physical control--his grip is firm, but certainly not tight.

"Good," he says, "because you're not the only person who likes to bring a few surprises to the table."

"I've always been a fan of surprises," says Granby, allowing Priestly to guide him where he wants him, not trying to pull away.

"Any hints?"