Wayne stood among the men in suits, wondering just what he was doing here. How had his cousin talked him into this again? And hadn't he been through this thought process before? He lifted his glass and smiled, awkwardly, at one man, who was at least twice his age, sitting by the fireplace with a man who was probably ten years younger than Wayne himself sitting in his lap. The young man wore practically nothing besides his black underwear and some stockings.
This was normal here, right?
Judging by how the waiters in the smokers' lounge all appeared to be wearing those kinds of clothes, Wayne concluded that, yes, this was how they normally dressed.
"So what do you think?" Clark asked enthusiastically, as he walked up to his cousin after getting a drink from a scantily clad waiter.
"It's... well, it's something," Wayne muttered as he watched said waiter walk away. "They really have a strict dress code for the workers, don't they?"
"It's what they're paid to do, Wayne. Remember?" Clark grinned. "Besides, you love it. Don't you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh-oh yeah. Yeah, sure. It's. It's just. Not what I'm used to. Sorry." He shrugged nervously.
"You really need to loosen up a bit. You've been here enough times to do that at least, haven't you?"
Wayne couldn't answer him. How could he admit to him what he had been doing in those viewing rooms all the times he had come here? Sitting there, without his pants on, stroking himself as he watched the same man, every time, doing anything he wanted? The last time it had taken so much self-control to not try and break through the glass to finally be able to touch him. So close and yet so far away from him, he could still remember the look on his face. His glasses had been fogged. A red blush had covered his cheeks and nose as he panted heavily against the glass. Then there had been his seed, splashing against the glass at almost the exact same moment Wayne's had. Despite the perversity of the moment, it had felt... amazing.
Clark was looking at him in a way that almost made Wayne swear his cousin could read his mind. His face flushed red for a moment, but he looked away, coughing as he did. "Yes. I've. Loosened up a bit," he muttered.
"I knew it." Clark grinned triumphantly.
"Oh shut up, you didn't do anything," Wayne laughed.
"I introduced you to this place. That's reason enough to be proud."
Wayne rolled his eyes and looked away, and felt as though his breath had been ripped from his chest because two people had suddenly walked into the room. One was Roxanne, once more wearing a beautiful red dress that accentuated her curves. It had a red leather corset over the black material of the dress that flowed out behind her, and she had red leather gloves that reached to her elbows. She smiled brightly at one of the men who greeted her, and returned it with a wink and a grin. If there were any heterosexual men nearby, they probably would have been aroused from the mere smell of her perfume. But it wasn't she who had caught Wayne's attention so dramatically.
It was Bernard.
The slim man walked into the room after his boss, closing the door behind him. He was wearing the same feathery, angel-like outfit that he had worn on the DVD Wayne had watched far too many times when he found himself alone in his room. It looked even more amazing in real life, and the fact Bernard was actually here, in this room, with no glass between them, made Wayne feel as if the whole world just exploded into a million fragments of itself before reforming quickly.
Bernard reached up and fiddled with the small round glasses that sat on his nose. He lifted his gaze and for a harrowing, and glorious, moment the two men looked at each other. The man in the white dress looked away first, following after Roxanne like a nervous puppy – since that's what he was, right now.
Why had he agreed to coming out onto the "show room" again? Bernard could already feel the eyes on him as he walked after Roxanne. This was all Megamind's fault, of course. Why had he gone and called in unavailable tonight? Why had Bernard been the one with time to come out here? Why was this dress the only one available to wear? He felt incredibly vulnerable, even more so than usual, because he knew a lot of these men had seen him in this dress before.
"Okay. I've been here. Can I go now?" Bernard whispered harshly into Roxanne's ear. He stood beside her as she took a glass of champagne from Alec.
"What?" Roxanne asked, narrowing an eye as she looked at him in shock. "You want to leave now?"
"Yes!" Bernard begged.
"Sorry." She patted his shoulder, smiling softly. "You're going to be here a while."
He screamed, internally, before turning around, and almost walked right into somebody. Bernard flushed and stepped back, looking up at a man who had seen him walk in.
"Well, hello." The man smiled, "I do believe I've seen you before," he said as he, without pausing, placed his hand to the small of Bernard's back. "Many times, in fact."
"Oh, really now?" Bernard asked. "That's funny. I don't recall seeing you."
"Probably because every time you showed up in my dreams, you were on your knees," the man replied, as if he were the greatest wit in all of creation.
Bernard wanted to groan out loud, push him away and attempt to flee, but he knew better than that. This was work. He had to play-act his way through all of this. He smiled, looked absolutely embarrassed (without much effort, because he really was) and turned his head away, lifting a hand to shield his eyes. "Oh God...!" he squeaked. "You're horrible." He was being honest but, also, was playing the part of the man in the white dress. It was nothing more than a mask to hide his true self, and if any of these men knew what he was really like, they would keep well away from him.
"Oh, you've no idea."
Of course he had to walk with the man. Of course he had to stand beside him as he found somewhere to sit. And of course when the man pulled him down he had to sit on his lap. This was so totally out of Bernard's usual comfort zone, he wondered just how he hadn't run screaming from the room the second he had walked in. But he smiled, played the role of the innocent one despite probably half the men in this room having seen what he was capable of in his viewing rooms. Some of them even winked at him, or nodded in greeting in a way that said "Oh yes, I've seen you naked".
This was what he had to do. This was what he had to put up with. Leering, knowing smiles, and a man who just made it painfully obvious he had a hard-on by sitting him on his lap like this.
Bernard began to wonder if he loved his parents this much to pay for their care.
Then he felt like a horrible son for even thinking that, but that was nothing compared to when the man shifted him, purposely, so he was now pressing against the problem happening in his trousers. "Ahh-ahh..." Bernard shuddered. "Somebody's impatient tonight..."
"Well how could I not be? With you walking around here, I'd have to be dead to ignore something like you."
Why? Why, why, why was Megamind away tonight?
The blue man's eyes slipped shut, and he gave out a low, pleased noise as he allowed the throbbing member to trace around his pouting, purple-tinted lips. Opening them, he looked up at the still -dressed man who sat there in his wheeled office chair, whose steel-blue eyes were looking down at him with a white eyebrow raised.
"Are you gonna play around it all night or get down to work?" the man asked in a low, gruff voice.
"You're fun," Megamind purred as he ran a finger from the tip to the base, trailing along the underside of the shaft. "You get so frustrated."
"You should see my blood pressure," he replied.
"If your blood pressure's a problem then it hardly shows, Warden." Megamind smirked as he slowly wrapped his hand around the base of the older man's erection.
"Cute," Warden said, moustache twitching on his upper lip as he watched the blue-skinned man open his mouth and breathe hotly against the overly sensitive pink flesh. He hissed at the sensation and reached a hand out, pressing it to the back of Megamind's overly large head.
"Mm, I bet I am. Still as cute as I was when I first got here?" the blue skinned man asked before allowing his tongue to finally press itself to the searing hot flesh, but only to run the tip against the folds of flesh at the head.
The warden shut his eyes and grunted, unable to stop his hips from giving a rock upwards, needy, desperate. His wife never went down on him like this, said it was disgusting. She'd never even tried for him, in all their years of marriage. The woman was so plain and boring, unimaginative even against the most simple of requests. But then there was Megamind, who cared little of their history, who had offered to do anything to help the man who had all but raised him, put him on the right path and kept him from becoming something ridiculous.
Like a supervillain, which he had wanted to be at one point.
"Don't bring that up..." Warden hissed, opening his eyes to glare down at Megamind. "Nothing kills a boner faster than a history lesson."
"Oh I don't know," whispered Megamind as he gently lapped his tongue against the musky skin. "Given the chance, I'd keep a teacher hard throughout the whole class like this..." he grinned teasingly again, and gave the base of his cock a gentle squeeze. "Besides, don't you like our story?"
"I do, but now is hardly the time to dwell on it."
"Hey, I just came to visit. You're the one who talked about how sucky your love life's been. You're the one who took me up on this offer." Megamind smirked before he suddenly took the head into his hot, wet mouth and ran his tongue around the red, sticky flesh. He even sucked, his lips going tight around the head, and just as Warden's hips began to rock a second time he let him go. An audible 'pop' filled the air.
"Goddamnit, you're no different to the brat you used to be," Warden groaned, feeling his cock twitch painfully at being teased like this. "Runnin' around causing all kinds of shit."
Megamind laughed at that, as he began to shift his hand up and down the length that, really, was pretty virile and healthy despite the man's age. He only hoped he was able to get this horny and last as long as Warden had when he was his age. Grinning, he winked up at the man from his place on the floor. "You love it," he purred. "Otherwise you wouldn't be leaking like a fire hose right now."
Warden groaned as Megamind pushed his thumb against the slit at the tip of his cock, but that was nothing compared to when Megamind suddenly took him wholly into his mouth in one quick, smooth swallow. He felt the man's lips push down his length, his tongue arch up against the underside of his shaft, the ribbed top part of his mouth rub against the head, and he felt the faintest hints of his teeth scrape against his flesh. "WOAH GOD!" the man spluttered, both of his hands now pressing to the back of that blue head.
He could still remember the time when the man before him, at five years old, had come to him one day and asked him what "fucking" was. Warden, dark-haired and orderly at the time, had spat his coffee onto the desk. He couldn't ask who had said such words around the boy since, after all, this was a prison. The men here were tough, rough, and spoke from their filthy, grime-ridden hearts. Why would they reign in the swearing in the presence of a child? He had attempted to avoid the question, but the blue child had just kept asking. He was a curious little boy who wanted to know everything, and Warden knew if he didn't tell him, somebody else would. And "somebody else" could be the inmates, and he knew they would have no tact or grace while explaining the birds and the bees.
He must have done a good job of explaining it, because thirteen years later, when the blue-skinned boy had been moved to a juvenile detention facility, Warden got word back that he had been found "fornicating" with some of the other young prisoners. There was nothing technically wrong with this, since they were all legal adults, but sucking another young man off in a supply closet was hardly the best course of action.
As if in the Warden's office, curled on the floor, half-hidden by the very same desk that he used to nap on when he was a baby, was any better? Yet here they were. Megamind, having graduated from the juvie correctional program (top scores), had moved onto bigger and better things. Yet he still came to visit the man, to tell him about what was going on in his life.
Only this time had it resulted in this, and somehow, Warden didn't feel guilty about it, or bad. How could he, with his mouth latched onto him like this? The boy really knew what he was doing, pumping his lips against him, squeezing his balls like that against the palm of his hand, and the noises Megamind made only accentuated how wonderful it was.
Megamind only moved his mouth away after he felt the older man's salty seed splash up against the roof of his mouth and down the back of his throat. He had no gag reflex, so there were no awkward splutters at the conclusion of the service offered, and only once he was glad he had sucked Warden for all he was worth did he stop. Pulling away, he wiped at the corners of his mouth before laughing.
"What's... what's so goddamn... funny?" Warden asked, sagging back in his chair.
"I just imagined what would have happened if somebody had walked in whilst we were doing this!" Megamind laughed as he climbed out from under the desk and hopped to sit up on it, folding his legs as he did. "How I would have hid beneath the leg space of your desk, and I soooo would have kept playing with you while you tried talking to them." He grinned devilishly.
"You're a worry," growled the other man as he pushed his now-flaccid dick back into his underwear.
"You raised me," grinned the alien.
"Technically the state and a group of hardened criminals did that."
"Details, details." Megamind waved his hands in a dismissive way, turning his head to look elsewhere with a purposely bored expression etched into his features.
"Seeing how fast you went down on me here tells me your own love life has a lot to be desired. Why else would you suck sixty-year-old cock?" Warden asked, arching a brow as he stood up to zip his trousers. When Megamind didn't answer and stared out the window with a disinterested look on his face, the older man grinned. "Ah," he said, "still pining for your boss, huh?"
"I can't HELP it!" Megamind exclaimed. "She's just so beautiful and funny and witty and charming and smart and sexy as get-out! You should see her work these dresses she wears, it's a criminal law that she should look so beautifully stunning every day! And she sees me as just a, a piece of meat being put through her factory. The way she looks at me and talks to me and how she touches me-"
"Touches where?" Warden asked.
"Not there!" Megamind snapped, cheeks tinting violet.
"I gathered."
"Hrmm."
"You should just tell her," Warden said. "Job be damned. People have affairs in the office all the time. Who knows, you might get to go down on her in a supply closet. Just like old times, eh?"
"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"
Warden laughed. "Nope."
"What're you waiting for?" Clark asked. "You've been eyeballin' him all night, why not just go over and talk to him?" He turned his head to look over at the wild-haired man in the white dress - who had, finally, gotten away from the man who had all but pinned him to his lap for an hour.
"I. I don't..." Wayne hated sounding so unsure of himself. There was just something about this place that stripped back all those years of confidence and self-assurance and left him a gawking, uncomfortable, stammering mess. He hated it so much, and yet it was such a change of attitude, such a refresher to remind him he wasn't as amazing, or astounding, as he used to think he was. It was a decent wake-up call, to be certain, but at the same time, why couldn't it happen somewhere else?
He suddenly realized Clark was pushing him towards Bernard, who, for now, was waving some cigar smoke out of his face, since he'd just been passed by one man with a nice, thick Cuban cigar in his mouth.
Wayne saw an opening, and took it.
"Stinks, doesn't it?" he asked, thankfully without stuttering.
Those brown eyes, the same that he had been staring into for over a month now, finally looked upon him and met with his own.
They stared at one another for a moment before Wayne gave an awkward smile and lifted his shoulders a little. "The, the smoke," he added, to clarify. God, why did he suddenly feel like he had been transformed back into an awkward teenager with a crush? Oh, that's right, he was an awkward guy with a crush, more or less. In high school, however, when he had crushed after James Matthson, he hadn't watched him masturbate in a dress on glass.
"Oh, no. I love the smell of cigars. It's the best smell ever," Bernard replied with sarcasm so thick it dripped from his words. "Don't you agree?"
"One hundred percent," Wayne replied. "I just wish there was a smoke only section, where all of us could enjoy it."
"I agree." Bernard smiled, genuinely, for the first time all night. For once, he didn't feel on edge. He didn't feel like he was being undressed by the other man's eyes, and this was a surprise. Wasn't the reason behind all of them being here sexual exploration and pleasure?
Wayne began walking away and, to his own surprise, Bernard found himself following him. This was peculiar, since he had been practically trying to avoid all the men in this room since he first arrived, especially after that one guy had all but rubbed against his thigh like that. It had been uncomfortable and disgusting, but he knew Roxanne would think less of him if he had pulled away like he'd wanted to, much less thrown the man's drink in his face. Why did they think they could get away with such behavior in here? He wondered if they acted this way in everyday settings, but of course they wouldn't. This was a high end hookers club, why behave at all?
"So, uh." Wayne grappled for words, for something that suited the situation. Here, standing before him, was the same man he had been gazing at through glass for over a month. Countless times he had run through this very scenario in his mind. What they would talk about, how he would say something to amuse the other, how they very well may end up in one anothers arms by that same evening. But now that it was unfolding before him, he truly had no idea what to say. It probably had something to do with the fact Bernard was wearing that outfit. "Have.. have you been doing this a while, then?" he asked.
Bernard raised an eyebrow slowly. Since this wasn't normally the area he tended to be during work hours, he wasn't certain as to whether or not this was a regular question. So far he had been shamelessly flirted with, and asked incredibly personal, sexual questions. He hadn't been asked this one, though. Taking a moment, Bernard sucked on his lips before sticking the tip of his tongue out and sighing.
"A few years," he admitted quietly.
"Is it rude to ask, uh, why? I mean, why get into this kind of work?" Wayne asked. When Bernard looked up at him with those brown eyes, he felt his cheeks flush red. "If it's not too personal if it is never mind," he said quickly, sure that if his cousin Clark could see him like this he would bust a gut in amusement.
"Everyone has a reason to get into this kind of job. A fair lot of us are sex-crazed. Or attention starved. Some like being the centre of attention. Others have better reasons." Bernard paused to look at the room, at his co-workers. "I'm here because the money is amazing, and it goes to my parents," he heard his voice say, though, for the life of him, he couldn't begin to understand just why he was admitting all of this to a stranger.
"Your parents?"
"Sick. Look, this. I'm not good at this," Bernard stammered.
"I'm not either." Wayne laughed weakly.
"Oh, not you. You're doing fine."
"I don't feel like it. Honestly, this is my first time in this place." Well, that was technically a lie; he'd been to this building very often over the past month, but he had never stepped foot in the smokers' lounge. "Er, in. In this room...?" he added, though that hardly sounded any better.
"This isn't my usual gig either," Bernard admitted, glancing over his shoulder. "Meeting people. Social interaction. I'm not good at that."
"But you're in this kind of work..." Wayne said carefully, before immediately regretting it thanks to that look Bernard was shooting him.
"The kind of work I do isn't like this," he said quietly. "Socializing with these men with so much money they could buy and sell me a million times and still have spare change. I prefer just. Not to talk to people."
"Do you want me to leave you alone?" Wayne asked suddenly. "I mean if you. Don't like talking to people I can go. And not bother you ever again."
Bernard, normally, would have said yes, please. But he stopped himself, hesitating, and sighed heavily. He shook his head. "No, no... you're fine..."
"Am I?" Wayne asked.
"Very fine."
Wait. Was he flirting? Bernard, as well as Wayne, honestly couldn't tell. The bespectacled man felt his face flush, and that alarmed him. He normally didn't blush like this. but how could he not? This big, tall, strong-looking man in the business suit was so nervous around him. Was he intimidated by him, of all men here? He made him stammer and blush and... admittedly, that was kind of hot.
Because he was. Bernard liked to think he didn't have a type, but oh, he did. He loved them big. Tall, strapping, with body hair and deep voices but never rough. Unfortunately, he'd never run across a man like that; instead, he'd run into perverted jerks like Megamind, who should be here doing his stupid job instead of doing whatever it was he was doing.
Wayne, meanwhile, was captivated by that blush on Bernard's face. He'd seen it through glass but never in person, and to see it happen without the aid of bare hands touching nude flesh or buzzing toys, made him stare in wonderment for a moment before he forced his eyes to look away... and saw Clark looking right at him.
"Thank. Thank you." Wayne paused, before holding his hand out to the shorter man. "My name's Wayne. Wayne Scott."
Bernard looked at the offered hand as if it had just grown dicks for fingers, then looked back up at the man's face. He searched those eyes for a moment before looking back at the hand, and slowly took hold of it.
"Bernard," he said quietly. "Bernard Dunning."
To be continued