He hears what Alecto does, even if he doesn't have the same visceral recognition, and he lets himself be pulled, following with alacrity as Alecto positions them to his liking.
This part he knows - Alecto's voice in his ear, directing, commanding - and he doesn't hesitate for even an instant, his momentum carrying through as he braces an arm above Alecto's shoulder as though to keep him from escaping, his body pressing close and intent, and he leans down - he is just taller than Alecto, a fact that was only now registering with him - to kiss him, hard, possessive, hungry, a desperate commingling of his persona for the mission and his own personal aesthetic appreciation, and the urgency of the moment. His other hand slides down from Alecto's waist to his ass, cupping the delightfully full curve of it in his palm and squeezing, not at all shy. They separate, briefly, then collide again, and he doesn't know whether the almost feral sound he makes into the contact between them is a genuine reaction, an act for the benefit of their audience, or a figment of his imagination.
He lets out a breathy sigh as he loosens his stance, making it seem like his knees are going weak (and maybe they are, just a little, but Alecto convinces himself he has this under control, that whatever real feelings he's experiencing are fleeting, provoked anyhow, and certainly nothing to worry about). His arms come up, loop around Josh's neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and when Josh grabs his ass, Alecto makes himself moan a little too loudly, too obvious. It's the kind of sound that was tailor-made to make other people blush in second-hand embarrassment, avert their eyes and scrub their memories clean.
Plus, it's not like it was hard for Alecto to play along, to exaggerate a very true reaction he was actually experiencing. Not when this all felt...so good. Really, really good. Alecto tries not to think about what Josh might be like had he really had no reins, if he was truly driven wild with want, untethered by reason, by the confines of a mission, by direction. It's an errant thought that brings a curious little smile to Alecto's mouth as they part briefly, like a well-choreographed dance, his epicene face as clear, and as cheerful and unreadable as that of a painted Flemish angel.
When they collide again, Alecto lets that deep growl from Josh's throat ricochet through his body, shocking him, delighting him. And he can feel the eyes of strangers on them in passing. Still not moving fast enough, though, so Alecto decides to up the ante, move on to the second act, keeping one hand gripped tight to the back of Josh's head and the other moving down to grab him through his slacks, feeling the semi-hard line of him there, warm and heavy.
He squeezes.
And that does the trick, apparently. The other people pass them by in a scurry, muttering something disapproving about manners that makes Alecto have to bite back a laugh so instead he bites down on Josh's lip, and only once they're in the clear again, fully alone, does he stop.
But they don't move away from each other just yet. They linger.
And that's dangerous. Not for their physical safety of course. The other thing. The pesky little heart thing, the one that's currently pounding a strange, quick rhythm in Alecto's chest that he needs to suffocate as soon as possible.
He doesn't quite choke on his surprise, but it's a close thing, and his exaggerated groan is only a little bit louder than he would naturally offer up in a less public context. He doesn't quite blush, or even think to try and play it off with an excuse - this was simply par for the course, a natural physiological reaction to external stimulus; nothing at all to be ashamed of or embarrassed by. Alecto was, completely unsurprisingly, both a very skilled kisser and good with his hands, even while deliberately trying to be showy, and Josh indulges in a few breaths of uncomplicated enjoyment, physical connection, and the warmth of intimate touch, the pleasant sting of teeth against his lips, storing up the sensation in memory for a later time.
But right now, they were working, on the clock.
He waits a beat, then two, as the disapproving footsteps disappear down the hallway to the elevator they had just vacated, leaving them alone again in the hallway, pressed against each other. He should really pull away, he thinks, and is surprised Alecto hasn't already done so. It both disquiets and thrills him at the same time, but foremost in his mind is - what had he missed? Was the coast not actually clear? So he settles, quiet and still, waiting for his cue.
Alecto feels the pressure of time against the back of his neck. This charade should have long been over by now and he can tell how Josh's confusion is starting to come through, leaning on Alecto to give word, to direct as he usually does.
(Briefly, Alecto wonders what would happen if he asked - no, demanded - Josh to continue? What if he hissed temptations in Josh's ear, told him to undress them both, to throw Alecto to his knees in their room and have his way with him, to pull his hair while they frantically, desperately fucked and -
Ah, shit.)
Alecto clears his throat, after just another moment, forcing his eyes away from Josh's exposed clavicle and relaxing his grip on him (literally and figuratively at this point). "I think that's good enough for now, Mr. Archer. Thank you for your...enthusiasm." He straightens and absolutely, positively does not blush at all as he moves out from under Josh's arm and heads the few paces down to the room that they called theirs, fishing the key card out from his jacket pocket and only then as he opens the door with a metallic click, does he allow a moment of fluster to overtake him, a warmth flooding the hollow of his throat, painting it red. He knows Josh won't see, won't notice, and he hopes for the sake of both their jobs, he never will get the chance to.
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This part he knows - Alecto's voice in his ear, directing, commanding - and he doesn't hesitate for even an instant, his momentum carrying through as he braces an arm above Alecto's shoulder as though to keep him from escaping, his body pressing close and intent, and he leans down - he is just taller than Alecto, a fact that was only now registering with him - to kiss him, hard, possessive, hungry, a desperate commingling of his persona for the mission and his own personal aesthetic appreciation, and the urgency of the moment. His other hand slides down from Alecto's waist to his ass, cupping the delightfully full curve of it in his palm and squeezing, not at all shy. They separate, briefly, then collide again, and he doesn't know whether the almost feral sound he makes into the contact between them is a genuine reaction, an act for the benefit of their audience, or a figment of his imagination.
Perhaps all three.
no subject
Plus, it's not like it was hard for Alecto to play along, to exaggerate a very true reaction he was actually experiencing. Not when this all felt...so good. Really, really good. Alecto tries not to think about what Josh might be like had he really had no reins, if he was truly driven wild with want, untethered by reason, by the confines of a mission, by direction. It's an errant thought that brings a curious little smile to Alecto's mouth as they part briefly, like a well-choreographed dance, his epicene face as clear, and as cheerful and unreadable as that of a painted Flemish angel.
When they collide again, Alecto lets that deep growl from Josh's throat ricochet through his body, shocking him, delighting him. And he can feel the eyes of strangers on them in passing. Still not moving fast enough, though, so Alecto decides to up the ante, move on to the second act, keeping one hand gripped tight to the back of Josh's head and the other moving down to grab him through his slacks, feeling the semi-hard line of him there, warm and heavy.
He squeezes.
And that does the trick, apparently. The other people pass them by in a scurry, muttering something disapproving about manners that makes Alecto have to bite back a laugh so instead he bites down on Josh's lip, and only once they're in the clear again, fully alone, does he stop.
But they don't move away from each other just yet. They linger.
And that's dangerous. Not for their physical safety of course. The other thing. The pesky little heart thing, the one that's currently pounding a strange, quick rhythm in Alecto's chest that he needs to suffocate as soon as possible.
no subject
But right now, they were working, on the clock.
He waits a beat, then two, as the disapproving footsteps disappear down the hallway to the elevator they had just vacated, leaving them alone again in the hallway, pressed against each other. He should really pull away, he thinks, and is surprised Alecto hasn't already done so. It both disquiets and thrills him at the same time, but foremost in his mind is - what had he missed? Was the coast not actually clear? So he settles, quiet and still, waiting for his cue.
no subject
(Briefly, Alecto wonders what would happen if he asked - no, demanded - Josh to continue? What if he hissed temptations in Josh's ear, told him to undress them both, to throw Alecto to his knees in their room and have his way with him, to pull his hair while they frantically, desperately fucked and -
Ah, shit.)
Alecto clears his throat, after just another moment, forcing his eyes away from Josh's exposed clavicle and relaxing his grip on him (literally and figuratively at this point). "I think that's good enough for now, Mr. Archer. Thank you for your...enthusiasm." He straightens and absolutely, positively does not blush at all as he moves out from under Josh's arm and heads the few paces down to the room that they called theirs, fishing the key card out from his jacket pocket and only then as he opens the door with a metallic click, does he allow a moment of fluster to overtake him, a warmth flooding the hollow of his throat, painting it red. He knows Josh won't see, won't notice, and he hopes for the sake of both their jobs, he never will get the chance to.