Handcuffed

Being handcuffed to your best enemy can have its ups and downs.

Rated T.

~o~

Alfred and Ivan stared ahead of them expectantly, neither man moving a muscle. Alfred's left hand was still bound to Ivan's right, their limbs hanging awkwardly between them as they stood in front of the urinals, one stall between their figures.

"Dude, I am not starting before you're starting. I don't want you listening to me peeing."

"Neither do I comrade," Ivan replied with his lip drawn up in disgust.

"Well…then how 'bout we count to three? Then we unzip at the exact same moment and do—do our, you know, our thing. AND NO PEEKING."

"There will certainly be no peeking. Not for me at least."

Alfred's head shot to the side, him not having missed the hidden meaning. "Oh, as if you're so big! I don't believe it one single bit!"

Ivan smiled, showing his teeth. "Let us not digress. My bladder is in need of some relief."

"Eew, don't say that!" Alfred protested, making an expression that showed pure and utter disgust.

"Then, as you say it, 'get a move on'."

"Okay okay! So…one…two…three!"

They put in their best efforts of unzipping with only one free hand, and held their breath until they could let out a sigh of relief.

Alfred shuffled his feet for a bit, blushing as he automatically felt his eyes slip to the side and had to re-adjust his gaze. Next to him, Ivan wasn't doing much better. Besides being focused solely on the act, his eyes were closed and a deep frown creased his brow, showing this was the last place he wanted to be.

Oh well. At least he wasn't handcuffed to one of his sisters. Now that would have been awkward.

And right before finishing up, he heard a squeak of surprise. Ivan's head shot up so fast he still caught Alfred trying to avert his gaze.

All right, Jones was dead.

…Unless the pretty blush tainting his cheeks meant he was impressed.