Ivan swung open the club doors.
The paparazzi surged to snap their pictures, but he placed himself between them and Alfred Jones, shielding him bodily, and together they pushed through the throng of people and popping flashbulbs. He yanked open the car door and Alfred dove in. The paparazzi lashed against the car, pressing the long lenses of their cameras against the car window as he pulled the door shut.
"Fucking assholes!" Alfred moaned as he lay huddled under Ivan's coat.
"Drive," Ivan instructed the chauffeur.
Once they pulled away and lost the cameras, Alfred immediately perked up. Bunching the coat carelessly to one side, he folded his arms behind his head and propped his feet up against the back of the front passenger seat.
"Put them down," Ivan said as Alfred inevitably tracked dirt onto the soft leather furnishings.
The look Alfred threw him – scornful but with a playful sneer twisting his lips – said no.
Ivan let it drop, just grateful that his charge wasn't acting up any more than was necessary, when Alfred slid a hand suggestively over his thigh. His body stiffened in spite of himself.
"You're drunk," he said matter-of-factly, turning his face away.
"Uh-huh." Alfred squeezed his thigh.
"You're going to regret this."
"Mm."
Alfred pulled back his legs and swung over to straddle Ivan. It wasn't an easy manoeuvre to execute in the back of a moving car, but he managed it by sitting on his haunches and wrapping his arms around Ivan's neck for support. He grinned as their noses bumped and rubbed together, his purple-streaked fringe falling between their eyes. He knew he had won when Ivan reached to brush his hair aside.
"Kiss me," he demanded, his breath smelling of Jack Daniels and Coke.
And Ivan kissed him. Wetly, hungrily, convincingly, and Alfred's mouth parted with a lustful moan as Ivan reached to grope between his legs. "Fuck!" he hissed, grinding his growing erection hard into Ivan's hand.
Ivan unbuckled Alfred's belt with short, jerky movements of his hands. The car slowed as it followed a curve in the road, and briefly the chauffeur's eyes met Ivan's in the rear view mirror. Ivan kept his eyes fixed to the chauffeur's stoic reflection as he pulled out Alfred's cock and began pumping; as Alfred moaned and writhed and bucked against him in the small confines of the car.
"God! Oh god!" cried Alfred.
A sharp salty tang rose into the air as Alfred came, spurting cum in thick white ropes over Ivan. Ivan hardly had time to mourn the defilement of his favourite tie before Alfred kissed him, his hands reaching to cup around his face, his lips pressing hard enough to bruise.
The car slowed to a stop light as slowly they parted lips.
"Are you satisfied?" Ivan breathed. Alfred gave him a devilish grin.
"Never," he promised.