Do What You Wanna Do

            It was like trying to grab at air and it felt wonderful. 
Floaty, like, a little tip here and a little swaying in every move – not
his, he was sitting, the leather chair slick under his sweating palms – but no,
Crane was all moving energy, swimming in and out of coherency under the heavy
throbbing pulsing of the bass and oh, it had been his own idea to
put on the music and he didn’t regret it, not when it got him this kind
of show.

            Come here he tried to say but it came out
more like, “C’meer,” not that he cared really, and he grabbed at those slinky,
swaying little hips,  pulling them close and biting at slippery silky skin,
licking sweat off Crane’s stomach even as his hands massaged that bulge, God,
oh, yes.

            Crane laughed and moaned and maybe argued a little
all in one breath but it didn’t matter, not one bit, because he could
feel the doctor shivering under his fingers like he had a fever or something,
and what better time to bring the good doctor down but when he wasn’t himself?

            He undid the belt, first, tried to undo the
button and zipper but ended up ripping them both apart, another laugh hitching
out of Crane’s throat like a canary out of a coal mine, just dying barely under
the surface.  When his hands wrapped around his cock Crane groaned, grabbed his
shoulders and shuddered head to foot, to tip-of-the-toe and oh, oh.

            “So pretty,” he slurred and wrapped his
lips around  the head, imagining a candy cane or any old sugary snack, anything
and exactly what it was all at once.  Crane gasped above him and thrust forward
and who was he to control the doctor?  No, he was the patient here, just
watching, listening, taking it all in, he wanted to eat the fucking bitch alive
and every half-starved noise Crane made just drove the point home.

            He didn’t have any gag reflex and Crane cried
out, throwing his head back and pressing his stomach into his hair, Christ,
wanton little bitch, sweating all over and writhing against him.  “Please,” he
was saying, “Please, please, please,” and who was he to hold off just to
piss the doctor off?  It was his bright ideas, his little syringes full of
delicious blues and golds that got them this fucking high, the least he
could do was help him out.

            He scraped his teeth against Crane’s shaft and that’s
what really got him, jerking like a life wire and coming into his mouth, crying
like a sob kind of noise, hands reaching to grab his hair and hold him there
even if he hadn’t planned on moving.

            Crane fell back and they stared at each other
and he saw something in those big baby blues, like fear or exhilaration or –
“god, please, do it again, ff-fuck!”

            I will, I will, sounded more like “sure”
but it was the same meaning and Crane was already rubbing himself, trying to
get hard again and grabbing at his pants, hands shaking as he undid the button
and pulled down the zipper, one tooth at a time, gasping even when he tried to
suck him off.  It was sloppy and Crane was terrible but it didn’t matter,
even just the brush of his hand made him shudder and writhe, fingers digging
into the chair’s arms then Crane’s hair, pushing him down until he gagged and
choked.  Oh, yes, he heard Crane try to say something and just ate up
the vibrations, but he just – no, it wasn’t good enough, he wanted more,
more, more –

            He grabbed Crane and pulled him up by the hair,
kissed him hard with his teeth and tongue more than his lips, pulling him into
his lap and where did the doctor’s pants even go, not that it mattered?

            Crane cried a little at first and tried to
struggle off but then he was sobbing in between moans, both of them shaking so
hard and Crane rock-hard all over again.  Fast learner, and Crane moaned, “Please,
just – oh, yesss...”

            The doctor bit him so hard he bled, right on the
shoulder and when he pulled his mouth back he was covered in blood and it was beautiful. 
He grabbed Crane’s hips and made the doctor fuck him so hard it felt glorious.

            Crane bit his lip and looked at him with wild
bright eyes and he came, shuddering with a howl that nearly broke through the
heavy throbbing music around them.  “Help me,” Crane moaned, and so he
pushed him off and crawled over him on the floor, grinding into him and wrapping
his hand around his cock, pumping fast and furious until Crane wailed, arching
backwards nearly double, but it wasn’t long before either of them were hard
again, writhing together on the floor under a thick blanket of basslines and
desperate, high-induced noises he hoped to God he would remember in the
morning.