Dating in the work place had become monotonous. Hell, dating was rather dull. And Travis enjoyed the feelings that came along with being a single man. No girlfriend to yell at him at an un-godly hour in the morning for not returning her phone calls the night before, no overly-attached and desperate lady that would practically die if Travis were to hint so much at spending a little time apart, and not having to deal with the broken heart of some girl he could barely remember the name of by next week.
Yeah, he liked the freedom. The freedom to pick up that girl from the bar two blocks from his place that's been eyeing him down with a hunger that sent tremors up his spine.
It was easy really. Only a few words were exchanged before Travis found himself being shoved onto his own bed – if you could call it that – with his hands fumbling clumsily at the belt holding him together. The pretty girl just smirked at him, inching up her sinfully tight dress as she drug her hips in the most teasing matter against Travis' growing erection. And with that, he decided to tilt his head back and relinquish whatever control he thought he had over to her, deciding that it was his turn to be on the receiving end.
He wouldn't be forgetting that night anytime soon, for he woke up that next morning with a terrible itch in his pelvic region. Travis just heaved out a sigh and cursed under his breath, knowing that that sex was too good to be without consequences. That same day, calling in sick to the precinct and rejecting any texts and calls Wes bombarded him with in the first hour his absence was noted, Travis made his way down to a local walk-In clinic. The visit wasn't so bad if you discount the fact that the woman that conducted the examination happened to be an ex from a few years back. Travis just kept flipping aimlessly through one of the many magazines that were strewn across the porcelain-white table beside the lab-bed he sat on. Only when the woman cleared her throat did Travis actually look up. She was still just as stunning even with that thin lipped expression.
It was forty five minutes at most, and Travis left the clinic with what felt like the world on his shoulders. Possible signs of Chlamydia; what in the hell was he going to do now? Was that even curable?
A solid week passed in a haze while Travis waited for the damn letter to come in the mail. And when that day finally came, it took nearly every ounce of energy the man had just to haul himself out of his cot. His nerves were on edge. Travis clutched the small, white envelope in his hands – heart hammering in his ears while he prayed to whatever deity in the sky that would listen. He tore at the paper carefully while his thoughts screamed at him the mantra: You idiot you idiot you fucking idiot
And all he could do was just drop to the rugged carpet beneath his feet. Negative. Travis could have never imaged such a word could harbor news in his favor. He sat there with the slightly crumpled letter in his hands, re-reading the bold, red print that read negative, just for reassurance that his sleep deprived mind hadn't deceived him.
"No more sex." Travis was almost sure that he only said it in his thoughts until he felt his mouth form around the syllables a second time. "No. . .more sex."
It was the first time in the span of a few weeks that Wes was greeted with Travis' usual obnoxious, smug attitude. Wes wouldn't dare allow Travis to have the pleasure of knowing that he genuinely missed that. Orderly, pristine, and obsessive compulsive to the teeth, a person would think Wes would welcome the absence. But he thrived on it. Whatever junk that had Travis so silent and reclusive had finally been shaken off his partner; Wes was practically thrilled. But on the outside, he still wore that grimace of annoyance towards the man. This said grimace deepened into a scowl while Travis swept Wes' Latte from his hands and took a sloppy swig from the mug, smiling that incredibly dopey yet charming smile.
"Mmm, mocha right?" Travis eyed the contents of the mug with mock fascination. Wes pressed his lips together in a tight line and reached his hand out, beckoning the return of his coffee. And Travis kept smiling that stupid smile. Another sip, then another until Travis made his way back to his desk and finished off the last bit of the drink, hovering the cup above his head as he stuck his tongue out to lick at any stray droplets that remained.
Wes leaned his chin on laced fingers and said, "You know I really missed not having to put up with your insufferable-" Travis smacked his lips together loudly. "That was absolutely delicious Wesley, 'preciate it," he clapped his hands together and cracked open one of the many files piled on the side of his cluttered desk. Wes sat there with his mouth hanging open, frustration clear on his face. Though, he'd rather be irritated then not feel anything at all. It's why he needed Travis around.
The day had been slow and filled with Wes trying to aid in lessening the load of paper work that Travis had severely fallen behind on. Being as stubborn as always, Travis insisted with raised hands that he could handle it. Wes took great delight in the way Travis scratched at his temple, obviously stumped and exasperated. He just grinned inwardly.
When the precinct was nearly empty, Wes stretched his arms high over his head and yawned, silently bidding his partner goodnight with the nod of his head.
"Wes," Travis called out. Wes sighed and pivoted on his heel. He stumbled back a few steps as Travis was all but invading his personal space, grabbing at his hand and thrusting a five dollar bill in his palm. Wes quirked an eyebrow.
"For the coffee from earlier." Travis stepped around Wes and headed out of the double doors to his motorcycle parked to the far right of the building.
Wes just stood there with the crisp bill between his fingertips. That was odd, even for Travis.
Travis had always been attracted to his partner. Who in their right mind wouldn't be? He had a slight build, but Travis imagined underneath all that expensive tailored wear, there was a taut body underneath. Not to mention that exquisite control-freak mind-set of his.
What he pulled today was risky, and Travis was honestly a little surprised that Wes hadn't even really noticed. Between tossing pages around in their respected folder and filling out credentials, Travis wasn't particularly shy with the way he let his eyes trail over his cohort. The man busied himself with his computer one minute, then tidying up stray bits of paper on his desk the next; basically avoiding contact with Travis. And he wondered if it was because of his little stunt earlier that morning. He doubted it.
With the STD scare still looming over his head, Travis did vow not to have anymore sex. But in his case, exceptions could always be made with the right person. And God was he tired of dancing around this thing Wes and him had. They did have something; Travis just never really invested the energy in trying to exploit what that something actually was. He just hoped that it wasn't one sided.
A soundless gasp left his lips as he lazily stroked himself. It wasn't the first time Travis got off to Wes; definitely wouldn't be the last either. Travis remembered that look Wes had when he crowded into his space; mouth hanging slightly open, eyebrows raised in confusion. Travis' eyes were locked on Wes' lips for just a second, wondering what kind of reaction he would reward him with if Travis were to sweep his tongue across that bottom lip that was just begging to be kissed. Of course he wasn't going to act on the urge even though every nerve shouted at him to do so.
It was embarrassing how quickly Travis felt his release build up, his body reacted to the littlest things Wes did. Like the way he'd scoff at whatever reckless act Travis would get himself into, or the way he'd furrow his brow in concentration while he listened to a suspect lie their way into imprisonment. It was just those little things he did that got Travis so hot and needy. He'd think to himself often that he was only attracted to the man because he was unattainable. He always had an issue with wanting things he knew was just out of reach. But Wes; that was a far cry. The man was so shut off and reserved that it drove Travis up the wall, also making Wes an easy target for his constant teasing. He was just so used to women being like an open book, talking too much and leaving too little to the imagination. It wasn't like that with Wes.
Travis chewed on his lip as he flicked his wrist and squeezed at his dripping head, visualizing that it was Wes' cool, un-calloused hand. He could see it as if it were actually happening to him. He'd be steady and precise with his movements, making sure that every pull and tug was not wasted, but only aided in making Travis' toes curl and forcing out short grunts between clenched teeth. Come for me Travis.
He was disappointed when he spilled in his own hand and not Wes'.