Work Text:
He presses his lips to the hole in the stall. Seven whiskeys and it seems like a dream. No hesitation, only expectation. The heaviness in his mouth, the unrestrained push and pull, clumsy and needy. The moans seem louder when he doesn't know their face.
But this time is different. Cold air hits his tongue as he waits. The feel of soft lips on his own, kissing him. Gentle touches, warm and slow. His chest aches. Who gave him the right? To treat him with such care? To offer him tenderness when he wanted the contrary? His heart pounds and his hands shake. No one has ever kissed him like this. He pulls away. Jade eyes meet crimson, and a glance is exchanged like a secret they just shared. He's frozen, not expecting the words he hears next.
"Lucky me."