renaissanceman | (no subject)

"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?"

"Nothing more than you've already gotten," says Priestly, leading him right out the back and to the pantry, well stocked but roomy. Priestly already knows there's enough room to do what he wants to do, which makes him feel just a little bit dirty, in the hot way. "Allow me to make your day."

There's a shiver of anticipation that goes down his spine, his fingers curling. His jeans are uncomfortable. He clears his throat.

"What if I'm not in the mood for a surprise? I've been short tempered all day."

"You know you're in the mood," says Priestly, confidence born of his previous times with John, and from everything tonight leading up to this moment. "You want this exactly the way it's happening. You trust me."

"I do," says Granby, nodding, utterly sure on that point. "I do trust you. With anything."

"A few minutes from now, when I have you bent over in the pantry, I'm going to remember you said that," says Priestly. "If you're very lucky, and very good, I might even quote it back to you."

"Oh, well," says Granby, grinning. "Now you've given the surprise away entirely."

Priestly pauses, leans in close to John's ear, and says, "No, I haven't." Just that, nothing more. Then he tugs on his wrist again and they slip through the doorway.

And a thrill goes through John then, right down his spine, and he lets himself be pulled into the little room.

He bites his lip over a retort.

"You have to promise not to let anyone know about this," says Priestly, "or they're totally going to question my sanitary cooking habits." That's not true. It's not the first time he's done something truly inappropriate in here. The trick is to keep everything...contained.

"I faithfully swear that I will never mention this to anyone," says Granby and, if Priestly didn't have hold of his wrist, he'd cover his heart.

"Once I find out what this is."

Edited 2012-07-24 20:03 (UTC)

"I'm pretty sure you have the general idea," says Priestly, turning him to face the wall, then pressing John's hand against it while still holding his wrist. "Do you think you can stay right there?"

"Are you telling me I've got to?" he asks. His fingers flex, pressing against the wall and he almost looks over his shoulder.

He doesn't, though. He doesn't move.

"I won't force you to stay," says Priestly, in a calm and even voice, "but choices have consequences. I think you're going to make the right one."

There's a part of Granby that really wants to turn around, right then. Maybe it's the Aviator in him, but he really wants to push his luck. He bites his lip and leans his forehead against the wall.

"Yes, Sir."

Priestly doesn't think anyone's ever called him sir before. Not even jokingly. He cups the back of John's neck for a moment, then grazes his fingers down his back and reaches around him to undo his trousers, all without a word.

So Sir wasn't misjudged them. John stands there, head slightly bent, hand against the wall and he stays completely still and Priestly undoes his belt.

Priestly unbuckles, unbuttons and unzips, and pulls them down only to John's ankles, leaving him hobbled by them for the moment.

"Sometimes," he says, face close to his neck, "sometimes I look at you, no matter where you are, and I just want to have you, right then and there, everyone else be damned."

There's a wrongness to it that makes him hot, the thought of being touched in public, when so much of his life has been spent in rooms not entirely unlike this one. He stands there and swallows, trousers around his ankles, feeling very exposed.

"I suppose everyone would have something to say about that."

"If they got a good enough look at you, they'd be cheering me on," says Priestly, wrapping his fingers around John's cock. "But I don't. I just get to look at you. I wait till I can get you alone."