AN: I'm not sure what to say about this one; it was probably spawned by the idea that Worth is a total jackass and likely would try something like this with Lamont. It was purely my own twisted idea. And uh, please take care when using any medication, and be sure to follow the instructions from your doctor. Please also read the second part before leaving me any comments on the medical aspect of this. This is not actually, in any way, non-con. That said, Hanna is Not a Boy's Name is still the property of Tessa Stone; I am not making any money nor do I mean any offense.
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COIN AND PILL CAPSULES
-by: Lira-
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Lamont should have been suspicious when Worth said he wanted to do drinks. He should have been even more suspicious when he realized that this did not actually mean going to a bar, but meant meeting at Worth's clinic and Worth sliding the deadbolt home after Lamont came inside.
When Lamont jokingly asked about patients, complete with nervous laugh, Worth told him they could fuck themselves.
As much as Worth was a dick about things, Lamont knew he was good about keeping the clinic open for all of his unreasonable hours. He knew Worth slept in it sometimes, although whether that was due to availability of other sleeping places was not something he needed to see confirmed. He knew Worth played off the whole back-alley doctor thing like it was just another job, but he also knew Worth genuinely helped people, whether he was happy to do it or not.
The blasé assertion that his patients could just cope for an evening made Lamont suspicious. Suspicious that something was wrong with Worth.
"You okay?" he asked, for lack of any ideas on tact.
Worth made a dismissive hand gesture, as if Lamont's concern wasn't even worth answering. "C'mon," he beckoned, calling attention to the second chair propped up next to Worth's desk. "Thought yeh were here ter drink."
Lamont shrugged, figuring Worth was Worth and if something was wrong maybe it would bubble to the surface after the first half-dozen drinks or so. For a skinny bastard, Worth had an unreasonable alcohol tolerance. On that, Lamont simply suspected the man's liver was so full of holes that the liquid was just spurting out of it, like a cartoon image of a leaky sponge. The second chair was just a metal folding one, not the rolling number that Worth could fall asleep in, but Lamont planted himself in it and scraped up alongside Worth.
"Ah'd ask wot yer drinkin'," Worth said. "But th' options're vodka, rum, an' more vodka. So Aye take it yer inna rum kinda mood."
Lamont took this to mean that Worth intended to drink at least one bottle of vodka by himself and didn't want Lamont encroaching on his second take. The cooler Worth kept the blood in was also beside the desk, Lamont saw, and Worth propped it open in order to tug out two bottles. They clinked together in his hand before Worth plopped them both flat on the desk. A second later, two glass tumblers were set beside them.
Lamont glanced into the tumblers for a second before averting his gaze. They both appeared far too dusty for his liking, and he wasn't going to start a fight with Worth about his dirty glasses now, when Worth was acting so fucking cagey. He would just pretend they were nice, clean glasses like they might have found in a nice, clean bar, and pretend that his rum didn't taste gritty when he was pouring it down his throat. The faster they got drunk the better.
When Lamont looked down again, the glass was full of warm brown liquid and didn't look nearly as dodgy. He grasped it between two fingers and knocked the contents back in one go. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Worth doing the same with his vodka.
If this turned into a fucking pissing contest...
But Worth was already topping off both of their glasses, one from the frosted glass rum bottle and the other from the clear plastic vodka one. Lamont was suddenly thankful he was drinking rum, because Worth's vodka probably tasted more like rubbing alcohol. Served Worth right if he bought the absolute cheapest swill he could find. Come to think, the rum actually tasted fairly good, which made Lamont suspicious about where Worth might have gotten it.
Lamont took his glass in his hand, but held it, watching Worth with a challenging gaze to see if he'd drink first. If this was another fucking pissing contest, Lamont was not about to end up passed out on Worth's operating room floor. He was still a bit worried that Worth might attempt to "borrow" one of his kidneys, just for practice.
"Sumthin' wrong, Mont?" Worth asked, in that belligerent tone that meant that it was a pissing contest, and he did want to start a fight.
"It's good rum," Lamont said with a shrug, because it was. "I was going to try and pretend like it's not water I'm using to drown out a bad taste in my mouth."
"Pansy," Worth jeered, knocking back his glass in a fluid motion Lamont knew wasn't perfected.
Worth just did this too fucking much.
Lamont had only downed the one glass, but he was starting to detect a weird taste in the back of his throat, like maybe it wasn't just dust in the bottoms of Worth's glasses. Maybe it was rat feces or dead insects; Lamont never knew in Worth's hellhole of an examination room. He found himself swallowing convulsively, like his throat was dry, and it was enough to make him knock back the drink just to lubricate things.
"I take that back," Lamont said, a bit breathlessly after the burn of the alcohol. "Something tastes like shit."
Worth had a fucking smug look on his face, and all of the little suspicions from before were starting to add up. Lamont shot him a glare and reached past him, grabbing the bottle of rum around the neck. He braced the bottom against his other hand for a second, then put the mouth to his lips and started to pour the liquid down. He swallowed convulsively a few more times, but now he was pretty sure it was just the burn of alcohol blazing its way down his esophagus. When he righted the bottle again, he was sure he was feeling much better.
"Yeh inna hurry or wot?" Worth asked, like he was amused. "Maybe yeh should pace yerself."
Worth never told him to pace himself, and it was just another thing that didn't add up. Usually if Lamont wanted to get shitfaced Worth just made threats about the things he would do to Lamont's yielding body while he was unconscious. Lamont did know from experience that half of those threats would prove true.
Lamont didn't reply, but it was because his chest was starting to feel tight, and one of his hands had come up to press against it as if that would help. He was breathing shallowly in and out, and the more he listened to himself the faster and faster his breathing was going, until it was quick uncomfortable pants and it felt as if none of that oxygen was getting to where it needed to be. He shot Worth a glare, because clearly this was Worth's fault and not a side effect of drinking too quickly.
"Fuck," Lamont gasped out. "What did you do?"
Worth was still watching him, except now the look was more calculating and less smug. Worth had done something. Worth had done something and it wasn't going as planned and now he was looking at Lamont like some bug pinned to a card, trying to figure out if he could use this or if he'd just throw away the specimen.
"Fuck Luce," Lamont tried again. "Tell me what you did, or I'm vomiting on your coat."
"Yer not gunna sick up," Worth told him, like he knew better than Lamont did himself, except now he was finally starting to look the faintest bit worried. "Yeh shouldn't've drank that much, yeh sorry sonuvabitch."
Lamont braced both elbows on the desk and placed his head between his hands, breath still coming in pants when he wasn't trying to talk. He was starting to feel an unpleasant tightening in his pants, unpleasant because he was fucking worried about what Worth could possibly have done to him, and that certainly wasn't the time for him to be getting a fucking boner.
"Shouldn't have drank that much," Lamont panted. "Because of what you put in it?"
"Lil' bit o' that," Worth conceded, like it was nothing.
Lamont slid one of his arms off the desk – leaving one to brace his already aching head – in order to press the palm of his hand against his groin. Lamont knew it kind of hurt if he kept wood trapped in his pants for too long without any sort of release, but it had been maybe two minutes. His cock was aching, and not in the usual manner. More like he'd gotten in a fight with Worth that only consisted of Worth punching him in the junk over, and over, and over. Like his cock would just be one ugly bruise if he happened to look at it.
Lamont found himself moving closer to the surface of the desk, before realizing that the arm supporting him had started to give out. He had enough alcohol in him, and was beginning to think enough time had passed, that his thoughts were going fuzzy and uncertain where they buzzed uselessly in his head. He couldn't think of how to make Worth tell him what was wrong with him, and he had a feeling he couldn't fight anywhere near well enough to beat the information out of his friend.
"Just tell me before I go unconscious and you start pretending I'm a corpse," Lamont requested, speaking slowly so that he could breathe.
"Aye doan' pretend yer a corpse," Worth told him instead. "Aye wouldn' fuck a corpse. Well, prob'ly."
That was not reassuring.
"Jus' thought a lil' viagra'd help yeh out," Worth continued, like it was no big deal.
"A little viagra?" Lamont echoed. "Since when have I ever had any fucking erectile dysfunction?"
Worth snorted. "Yer askin' me ter be th' judge uv that?"
Lamont wanted to lunge forward and punch Worth in the face, but suspected he would fall flat on his own instead.
"How much, Luce?"
"Oh... Four capsules."
Lamont boggled at him. "Four? You're not supposed to take that shit more than once in twenty-four hours!"
"An' uv course yeh'd know," Worth said, snorting again.
"You're also not supposed to take it with alcohol," Lamont accused, even though they'd been over that.
"Be happy Aye didn' put th' nitroglycerin in." Worth said back. "Aye wanted ter see wot would happen wiv th' combination."
Lamont swallowed yet again, suspecting that he really, really didn't want to know what would happen if Worth had dosed him with other drugs on top of an overdose of viagra.
"You're the doctor," Lamont accused. "What am I supposed to fucking do?"
"If yeh experience an erection lastin' longer'n four hours, call yer physician," Worth rattled off, so that Lamont knew his own annoyance was the goal. "Otherwise, yeh should 'ave a fuckin' erection. Wot did yeh think yeh were s'posed ter do?"
"Why didn't you just elbow me in the gut and try to break my face?" Lamont asked. "Like you normally do?"
"This is more fun," Worth told him flatly.
"I think I'll just go jerk off in what passes for your bathroom," Lamont said, starting to get up.
Worth kicked the bottom rung of the chair so it slid out from under Lamont, which was followed by Lamont nearly cracking his chin on the desk when he fell forward. Worth pushed himself up and took Lamont by the collar of his shirt, using the leverage to fist his hand and pull Lamont towards him. Lamont nearly bumped foreheads with Worth, too drunk to make himself stop when he was pulled.
Too drunk to keep his teeth from clacking against Worth's when Worth pulled them together.
"Fuck Luce," Lamont muttered, so he could almost taste the vodka on Worth's breath.
"Shut up," Worth told him, and it was nice for a moment when Worth kissed him, just the hard press of the man's mouth against his own, working quickly. "Aye want ter take advantage uv yer viagra dick while it's workin'."
And of course Worth's mouth ruined it again; things would clearly be better if Lamont could get him to shut the fuck up. The best way to do that would be to fuck him into the desk until they rolled the awful lump of furniture clean across the room through the process, especially if Worth was going to phrase his leers like he was asking for it. Lamont would just have to remember not to fall the fuck over while he attempted it.
Lamont grabbed onto the edge of Worth's coat, because they couldn't make it easy for each other. He had to use Worth's stupid coat to help hold himself up, but the simple act of just grabbing Worth through the front of his pants was still familiar and enough to bring Lamont's answering baring of teeth out, that look he always made whenever Worth tried to leer a him. Worth grabbed him right back, except Worth was faster, or maybe it was just that Worth was a lot more sober. He was undoing Lamont's pants before Lamont truly knew what was happening.
Lamont could at least slam Worth up against the desk, using his weight and Worth's momentum so it would seem more forceful than he could really manage. The hand at Worth's crotch was scrabbling a bit, trying to navigate buttons and zips when he'd rather try and stab a hole through Worth's pants with the wood he was sporting, that Worth was already freeing from his underwear with those familiar, long-fingered hands. Lamont had almost forgotten that it hurt, but it did hurt, he remembered that well when Worth touched him and he couldn't even tell at first if it felt good.
"Fuck," Lamont grunted as he jolted Worth into the desk a second time. He couldn't help thinking that Worth might like a little counter-medication in the form of viagra-dick for himself.
"Tha's th' idea," Worth muttered, voice going low and even like he was actually trying to coax Lamont into it instead of taunting him.
Lamont was sure Worth would even like it better if he didn't lube up, and he was suspicious that he couldn't really make his dick hurt worse than it already did. Nevertheless, he grabbed the heavy bottle of rum from behind Worth, sloshing the liquid over his own equipment as well as Worth's hand. Worth reflexively grabbed his hand back and shook it free of rum, while Lamont's hand slid in to take it's place. The liquid wasn't really thick enough to count as lube, but if someone asked Lamont then he would spit that it was the thought that counted.
Lamont jerked Worth's pants down farther, the motion as uncoordinated as everything else but quick enough that maybe Worth didn't notice. Lamont then prodded at Worth until he planted his skinny ass back on the desk itself, canting his hips up so that Lamont would have access. And then of course Worth had to push his luck, shaking one leg free of his pants leg and holding it up high enough to make the view obscene. If Worth wanted to be a shit he could, Lamont would just have to return the favor by fucking him through the desk.
The process began when Lamont shoved in, the alcohol providing the barest margin of glide. Lamont thought that maybe that was supposed to burn, but it was just the same ache he'd almost gotten used to, the same sensation of being so hard it was painful. He jerked his hips back and Worth moaned at him, an almost pained sound that was surely half laugh. Worth was smiling, at least, when Lamont looked at his face, like this was all still such great fun.
Now Lamont really did want to fuck him through a desk, or a wall, or maybe a surface that would actually hurt him.
The pace Lamont set was relentless, the hardest thrusts in and the fastest jerks out he could coordinate while still being more than halfway sloshed. Lamont knew well of whisky-dick, the phenomenon when drunk people just plain old couldn't fuck because they couldn't get hard. He had the opposite – all of that drunken lack of coordination but an erection so solid he would have bet on it. After a while Worth was grunting just from the feeling of being slammed into a surface that was actually metal, for all that it had wood-grain laminate laid over top.
"Still think," Lamont grunted. "This was a good idea?"
"Yeh kiddin', Mont?" Worth asked back. "It's still fuckin' brilliant."
Of course Worth would enjoy it, even better if his ass ended up looking like Lamont had beat him black and blue with his bare hands. Lamont didn't even feel like he was getting close. It was exhausting, yes, to maintain things for so long, to thrust and groan and thrust again, resist the urge to slam Worth's face into the desk. And with that Lamont could resist no longer, jerking out all of the way and grabbing Worth by the shoulder. Worth did yelp a mangled objection, but Lamont just spun him around and shoved him back towards the desk.
"Change of pace," Lamont said as he thrust in once again. "You've got me hard for fuck all knows how long, we might as well keep things interesting."
And Worth was laughing then, like it was funny all over again, hips moving back against Lamont at the same time. Lamont was just even happier with the little change-up, because it meant he could shove Worth's face straight into the top of the desk so hard he could hear a slight crunch that had to be Worth's nose. Lamont was less happy that Worth continued to laugh, more softly with the damage now done to his nose, clearly amused by Lamont's attempt to hurt him.
"Fuck, Mont," Worth gasped. "Yeh still know how ter spice things up."
Lamont wasn't going to dignify that with a response. He wasn't going to admit that just turning Worth had been work, his center of gravity still off from the booze. It was actually easier to fuck, because it was the same damn motion and it was kind of a motion Lamont was used to. Except usually it was accompanied by pleasure, a good feeling that told Lamont how much farther he was going for and which spurred him into trying to please his partner. Right now he wanted to please Worth about as well as he wanted a hole in his head.
Lamont kept going. He had to resist the urge to grab the bottle and take a drink just to wet his mouth, because the last thing he needed was more alcohol. He wanted to find a reason to just stop and do something else for a minute with his dick still buried, see if he could actually irritate Worth a little. But the tight clench of Worth's body around him was at least a distraction, an interesting sensation different from the norm, if not nearly as welcome as actual pleasure.
Lamont wasn't expecting it when his body decided to come, and was actually more than a bit confused by it happening. At the last moment he tensed up completely, and could tell that he was literally ejaculating, even if it didn't feel like any sort of release. When he was done, and could tell he was done, he could tell that he was still fully hard. It had fucking hurt to do it and it didn't even matter, because the erection was still there.
"Fuck, Worth," Lamont groaned. "What did you do to me?"
"If yeh want me ter explain again," Worth began. "Firs' Aye wanna know if yeh had sum sorta brain damage ter make yer memory lapse."
"I didn't forget," Lamont snapped. "I came."
"Well good fer fuckin' yeh," Worth said. "Did yeh want a prize er summin'?"
Lamont considered trying to smash Worth's head into the desk again, but didn't do it. "I want my dick to stop hurting," he clarified. "I think your ass can probably tell that I'm still hard."
Worth actually craned his neck around at that, and the look on his face was one of consideration. "When they say yeh might end up wiv an erection lastin' four hours, perhaps they aren't shitting."
That didn't actually make Lamont feel any better.
"Carry on," Worth taunted, after that. "Yeh tired er summin'?"
Lamont snapped his hips forward, and that seemed to answer Worth's question. He kept going until Worth came, the motions becoming more and more mechanical instead of carnal. Each additional thrust of his hips made him want to wrap his hands tight around Worth's neck, made him want to squeeze slowly so the pain built like the pressure. It made him want to watch as Worth's face changed colors, made him want to count each new shade as it appeared like some sort of party game.
But Worth came across the desk in quick spurts, and Lamont kept thrusting, if less forcefully, as he did. He didn't honestly know what to do next. His dick still hurt and the easiest thing to do was fuck, to channel his thoughts and his energy into the physical motions of the process. But Worth was squirming slightly, and while he might not have realized he was doing it, Lamont took it to mean that continual plowing into his body wouldn't actually be appreciated. It wouldn't be painful like Worth enjoyed, just tedious, and that quickly ruled it out.
So Lamont jerked out and leaned himself against the desk next to Worth, needing the support of something that wasn't his own limbs. Worth flopped over, seemingly unconcerned by the mess. Probably actually unconcerned by the mess, knowing Worth. He looked at Lamont with that leering, knowing expression, and Lamont had to resist the urge to shove Worth hard and see if he fell on his ass.
"Guess we ain't done yet," Worth told him, like a confidence.
And then Worth was leaning over him, one hand braced on either side of him against the desk, but back bowed so far that Worth's gaze was down lower than Lamont's own. Lower yet, as Lamont realized Worth was lowering himself to the floor. Lamont had the peeved thought that Worth only did this if he was getting something out of it, that Worth was trying to ratchet up his suffering because it couldn't possibly be doing something nice. And then Worth's mouth was on him, and for a moment Lamont didn't have any thoughts at all.
If before, for a stretch, it had almost been like having no sensation at all, not even the pain, then this was the opposite. For the first time in so long there was the hot, wet rush of pleasure, of sensation so sharp and poignant it really did hurt, but Lamont didn't care. Tight heat as Worth's throat engulfed him, the motions around his length rhythmic and concerted and perfect. One of Lamont's hands went to the back of Worth's head, but he just kept it there, not even jerking Worth by the hair as they might usually do lest it disrupt the pace of things.
Lamont was more vocal than before, not actually with increased volume but instead increased frequency, releasing a string of groans and moans and quick pained gasps, everything that Worth would wring from him. One of Worth's hands was on his hip, long fingers digging into his flesh like a clamp or a vise. The other hand was touching him, just lightly, forefinger and thumb supporting the base of Lamont's erection and Worth's palm braced against Lamont's balls. When he could, Lamont spared a thought for Worth's hand, because he kept thinking Worth was going to slide it back farther, skate those idle fingertips over other parts of Lamont's flesh.
But Worth didn't. The persistent suction continued, the near-constant pressure, the attention so complete that Lamont could hardly think of anything else. He had his eyes shut most of the time, face screwed up in an expression that surely looked like pain but was truly nothing of the sort. Not all of the time, though, because Lamont had to crack open one eye every so often just to look at Worth, to see Worth's mouth stretched wide around his length. And Worth would glance up at him with fair frequency, with that knowing look as if to ask that he was just so fucking good at this, wasn't he? But the rest of the time Worth would look down, going fairly cross-eyed to glance at what he was doing, his eyes going shut when they weren't.
Lamont believed that it was because no matter how Worth thought he could make him writhe, no matter how well they knew each other, Worth still had to work at it if he wanted to make Lamont pant in desperation.
Lamont panted fasted, gasped louder, hand pressed flat against the side of the desk to brace him even though he would prefer to grab onto something. He couldn't pull Worth's hair lest the pleasure stop. His body hadn't worked like this since he was a teenager, so Lamont didn't know himself if he was about to come or if he was maybe just going to have a heart attack from the viagra and the alcohol.
"Fuck. Luce," Lamont muttered, words quick and punctuated by tremors in the hand holding onto Worth.
Worth mumbled something back into Lamont's dick, sounding far more like a hum than words seeing as Worth didn't pause for a second to offer it. Lamont's body took that as permission, seeing as the next moment he was coming hard, the spasms rocking his body more than he was used to enduring, even if he expected that Worth was swallowing less than the usual. He arched gently forward and back, over and over until the last of the aftershocks worked their way down.
It was a few moments later that Lamont realized he was still hard.
Worth popped his mouth free with something that was disturbingly like relish, pushing himself up from the floor with the hand that had been on Lamont's hip. Worth braced himself on the desk then, leaning in towards Lamont's face until personal space was being invaded, like Worth was the one who was drunk even though it was Lamont's head that was fuzzy. Lamont stared back blearily, and realized that his dick was starting to throb once again, his entire crotch simmering with pain.
"Fuck, Luce," Lamont said again, but this time there was anger returning to his voice, a crisp, razored anger that was not liking what it had found.
"Hasn't bin four hours yet," Worth told him in response, as if that was any kind of consolation.
Lamont didn't actually want to punch Worth in the face, because the lightheaded feeling was there again and this time he didn't think it was the booze. He was thinking he should maybe sit down for a while, lie down for a while except he was not about to stretch out on Worth's examination table. He couldn't ask for the doctor's orders because while normally he would at least take Worth's opinion into consideration right now the doctor was the one who'd fucked him up in the first place.
"If I pretend to hit you," Lamont said, voice low as he tried to maintain the menace. "Will you pretend it fucking hurt?"
Worth made a clicking noise with his tongue and was still wearing that annoying smug look, but at least nothing offensive was issuing forth from his mouth. This happy occurrence could not endure for long, and then Worth was leaning in even closer like he was about to bestow a confidence.
"So yeh wanna be on th' receivin' end this time, Mont?" Worth asked suggestively, eyelids drooped low like half-drawn shades.
"Want to be on the floor with a concussion?" Lamont returned, although without much heart in it.
"Took a lot outta yeh, didn' Aye?" Worth asked, like it was something to be proud of.
"In the literal sense, or the figurative?" Lamont asked back. "There wasn't a lot to begin with."
Lamont could see the mark of Worth's pride, the slight upward curl of his lip that meant he was detecting the challenge and about to take it. Lamont wondered if Worth was actually up for another round, or if maybe he just felt intimidated by the fact that Lamont was still hard with no work placed into the fact and it was a matter of pride to be able to go just as strong.
"Still sumthin' left," Worth told him.
Lamont knew Worth had given himself an idea.
Worth swooped his hand across the desk, fingers skating through the small puddle of Worth's own come. Worth's other hand was already moving to wrestle Lamont's pants down, and Lamont considered helping his friend but decided Worth could fucking handle it himself. Worth had Lamont's hard dick in his hand once the pants were subdued, and the come-slicked fingers moved along behind it.
"Are you actually going to try and fuck me right now?" Lamont asked, leaning back against the desk like he was unconcerned with the matter.
"Shaddup Mont," Worth returned, like he was equally unconcerned.
Worth's nimble fingers skated over the ring of muscle there, the sensation cool and slick but also sticky with Worth's improvised form of lubrication. Worth pressed one digit in, leaning over Lamont so that he wasn't even looking at what he was doing. Worth was looking Lamont in the face so Lamont looked back, even as the finger wormed its way comfortably inside of him, even as it wriggled and flexed and tried to tease him. Lamont bit the edge of his lip, but still he looked back, egging Worth on.
A second finger joined the first, easing its way into place with a sort of skill Lamont could have appreciated. Worth was no longer leaning so much, instead lowering himself into half a crouch, closer to his work but still staring Lamont in the face. Worth's fingers scissored slightly, explored the insides of Lamont's body and reached dextrously on, curling towards their hidden prize. Lamont bit into his lip deeper and then gasped, Worth's fingertips skating against that spot deep within. He wondered what Doctor Worth would try and tell him about it. Categorize the bright spark of pleasure that arced its way up Lamont's spine in reaction.
Worth was still watching him, still judging, still looking just the slightest bit smug over what he was now doing.
For a minute Worth continued, Lamont's dick attempting to jump within the hold Worth still had around it. Worth's fingers moved in a perfect, concerted motion, that same come-hither curl that made Lamont's intestines want to unwind. Lamont would agree, if not to Worth, that it was power over someone. It was something that could be controlled, whether or not it was just sex, if they only gave access to you. Lamont was not actually a fan of being controlled, no matter who he might come to work for, and it was something exotic, to give oneself over and only hope that the pleasure be unleashed in return.
And then, just as Lamont was almost getting used to the sparks and crackles, the way he thought his spine might melt out of his asshole and he might come for the third time that evening, just then Worth slid his fingers almost free. Almost, but not quite, because that was when Worth leaned forward, between legs Lamont had spread wide in his haste. Worth's fingers were held snapped apart, creating a small passage where Worth could press his tongue, could once again worm himself inside of Lamont.
Lamont cursed quietly, wondering what the fuck Worth could possibly be up to. Humiliating Lamont, that had been the thought at the start, the only possible reason for giving Lamont drugs and placing him in a position where he wouldn't want to reject the offer of sex. But blowjobs and rimjobs were more than Lamont would have expected, coin that Worth would try and pay if he thought he was receiving something especial for it, but not for no damn reason or because Worth just fucking felt like it.
Lamont could feel Worth's mouth moving, the fingers coming free so that it was only Worth's tongue there. The wriggle and push, the gentle persuasive teasing of Worth moving inside of him. A very different feeling, more organic than fingers, stroking against things that were not often stroked against. Worth's mouth, Lamont could swear he felt it smiling against his flesh, smiling as Worth invaded him and explored.
Lamont was fairly certain he was going to come for a third time, and that it would hurt worse than the dull ache he was still just then experiencing.
"Dammit, Luce," Lamont said, not even angry then.
Worth flicked his tongue in response and Lamont almost wanted to hit him, except that would probably result in Worth literally biting him on the ass.
Worth continued, and Lamont had the sensation like he was coming, could tell that his dick was pulsing sharply in the way it always did, if usually with less pain, but he was looking down and he could see that there was no result. It still felt like orgasm, like painful, exquisite, gut-wrenching orgasm, but Lamont didn't know any more what to think about it. There was only a tiny dribbled bead of what looked like precome, which Worth swiped out of Lamont's view with his thumb after only a few seconds. For a few more moments Worth was tonguing him, but Worth had realized what was going on, and after that he pulled himself free and stood back up.
Worth wiped himself across the mouth and let go of Lamont's dick, giving a bit of a sigh. "Does that count as makin' yeh come?" he asked. "Doan' think Ah've done that before, anywise."
Worth almost sounded pleased with himself, and Lamont had another quick thought about just what exactly Worth thought he was accomplishing with this.
"I'm tired," Lamont said. "I'm tired, and my dick still hurts, and this is becoming rather unbearable. Fucking hell, Luce."
"In that case," Worth said, with what might have still been a leer. "If yeh doan' wan' ter go one more round, I could dose yeh wiv sum ambien an' maybe a xanax or valium an' we'll getcha ter bed."
"More pills?" Lamont asked, in clear disbelief.
"It'll be fine," Worth said dismissively. "Yeh'll wake up all better."
"I don't want to sleep on your examination table," Lamont protested, too weary of it all, especially after feeling like he'd come again, to properly argue.
"Ah'll even letcha use th' mattress," Worth said, almost coaxingly.
Lamont didn't want to argue with that. He wanted to pass out and stop hurting and then punch Worth's face in a couple of times when he woke up. Worth left him for a moment to scrape up the necessary pills, and actually brought Lamont what was probably water to take them with. It was likely a miserable idea and Lamont didn't even know if he'd wake up from it, but it would be over for the moment.
"I still have no idea what you wanted," Lamont told Worth, before knocking back the pills.
"Ah'm gunna watch yer dick while yer sleeping an' see zactly how long that lasts," Worth told him flatly, like it was a genius idea and not just plain creepy.
"I don't take it you're going to wake me up when it's been four hours?" Lamont asked.
The crooked grin Worth summoned in response was a definite no.
"Fine, fine, whatever, you asshole," Lamont muttered, pushing himself away from the desk. "I'm gonna lie down."
Worth didn't argue, and Lamont stumbled into the back room where the mattress was hiding. It smelled of cigarettes and something lightly rancid, but at the moment Lamont didn't much care. He curled up like a dog and slid until he was against the wall, not bothering at all with the single ratty sheet tangled up there. His dick still hurt but it didn't matter so much all of a sudden.
Lamont didn't realize his hand curled automatically around his dick when he got sleepy, with his pants still off, and didn't notice when Worth came into the room and sat down on the edge of the mattress to smoke a cigarette, like he was going to be there for a while.