[500 Themes: 233]
Barnaby should have known better.
At the same time, he didn't care. He didn't pay prying eyes any mind, he kept his face completely straight, and he did whatever he felt like doing – and at that moment, even with in the midst of a dinner that should have been strictly for business, what he felt like doing had a great deal to do with flustering Kotetsu.
It was too easy. A hand here, a sideways glance and a faint smirk tugging upon the corner of his lips there – ah, yes, far too easy, to trace his fingers up the inside of a well-muscled thigh, to palm his way closer, ever closer, between Kotetsu's legs, to watch his lover struggle to keep a straight face, to not blush, to not grab his hand (or to think about grabbing his hand – push it away or drag it closer, which one would Kotetsu decide to do, exactly) –
"Bunny, stop it," was Kotetsu's low hiss, and Barnaby merely smiled, easy and calm, and tiptoed his fingers closer still, plucking at the belt of Kotetsu's slacks.
It was around that time that somehow, they made it to the men's room unquestioned, and there were no questions between the two of them, either, once a stall door was slammed shut behind them – nothing but insistent, grabbing, shoving hands, Kotetsu's buried into his hair and mussing his curls as Barnaby's knees hit the ground in front of him and his fingers finished clawing open the fastenings of the older man's pants.
No matter if it was a hurried thing, Barnaby still took his time when it came to this. Every lick, every kiss and suck, every drag of his tongue from base to tip and every bob of his head that brought Kotetsu deeper down his throat and made the other man choke down a groan. Barnaby relished the way Kotetsu's hands dug into his hair, the way his nails scraped across his scalp, the way he tugged him closer, eager and needy even when moments before, he had only been shoving him away –
Kotetsu came with a hard shudder and Barnaby neatly swallowed everything, panting as he drew back to lick and kiss Kotetsu clean. A glance upward made his breath hitch even further – the sight of Kotetsu, flushed, lips parted, so obviously sated – oh, there was nothing that could make Barnaby's own blood pump hotter and harder.
"When we get home," Kotetsu promised, still breathless, "the things I am going to do to you…"
It was a promise worth waiting for, without a doubt.