Fabian could not bear the humiliation of being in the office any longer. He did not have any lab space until after lunch and could not hide in the Department of Mysteries, and so he was forced to endure the susurrations of colleagues speculating on how much of a verbal hiding he got from Crouch, and how it mustn't have been so bad, only that he was too much of a crybaby to take it in stride.
At the stroke of lunchtime, he fled the office as quickly as he could, out into the cold January air. He was miserable, and he felt like he had a gaping deficiency within him, and he wanted someone to rough him up, to slap him out of silliness or to slap him out of his ineptitude—he didn't know. He just wanted to be out of the office, and he wanted someone to make him forget about the morning and though he had only left Tony's side this morning when he headed for work, he had already begun to miss his presence: the way he was so assertive and how he did everything for him. Without being conscious of it, Fabian found himself headed towards the camera shop in quick strides, and when he reached he feared Tony might not be at work and he would not know what to do, but all of that disappeared the moment he saw Tony behind the counter, fiddling with the shutter of some used camera traded in for secondhand sale.
"Hi," he said apprehensively, fearing that Tony would choose to ignore him.
Tony looked up at him. "How may I help you?"
"I feel terrible," Fabian began. "I feel like the biggest fuck up to ever fuck up, and objectively I don't think I fucked up that badly but it feels fucked up anyway."
Tony continued to fiddle with the shutter, not responding.
He leaned across the counter. "Fuck me," he said, oozing desperation. "I feel like shit. Fuck me badly, fuck me till it hurts—I don't care. Tell me I've been a bad boy, I want to know I deserve it."
Tony looked up from his camera. He looked around the shop, which was empty. He got up and closed the door, and flipped the sign over—"Sorry, We're Closed!"
"Do you really want me to do this?" he asked wearily, as if it were a particularly onerous task.
Fabian nodded, and then hung his head in shame.
Tony opened a door behind the counter, and gestured for him to go in. When they were both nestled in the room, which was small and cramped, Tony closed the door, plunging them into darkness.
"This room is completely black, for loading and unloading film," he explained.
Fabian nodded, but then realised Tony wouldn't have seen it.
"What did you do wrong?" Tony asked softly. He felt Tony kiss him on the jawline, just below the ear.
"I'm a bad boy. I'm a terrible boy. I can't do anything right," Fabian choked, nearly tearing up again at the thought of this morning's events.
He felt Tony's nose nuzzle the nape of his neck, and his skin began to tingle in anticipation. There was some rustling as Tony removed his coat for him.
"There is a table, here," Tony said, pushing him against the hard, straight edge of it. Fabian heard the sound of his coat dropping on the table in a folded heap.
Though it was pitch-black, Fabian closed his eyes anyway. He reached out and grabbed Tony by the waist, pulling him in, feeling the weight of him press against his body. Tony kissed him down the neck and breathed down his chest with kisses light as a flutter. He heard Tony undoing his belt, tugging the fly open, pushing down his trousers and underwear so it bunched just below the crotch. He felt Tony wrap his hands around his cock, tugging at it in a twisting motion, felt Tony's thumb swipe across the tip of it, felt Tony's thumb pushing back his foreskin.
"Fuck me," he begged, wishing Tony would flip him over and plough into him hard, without warning. He wanted to feel like he was being used, he wanted some thick cock digging deep into him, filling him up with fullness.
But Tony had other ideas. With his hands around the shaft he wrapped his lips over the head of Fabian's cock, pressing his tongue against the underside.
"Fuck," Fabian gasped, hips jutting upward. With two fingers grasping the base of his cock in a tight ring, Tony took the rest of his cock into his mouth as it swelled upright.
"Fuck," Fabian cried again, overcome with incoherency.
He felt Tony's mouth moving up and down the length of his cock, slick with the sound of sucking, and then he felt Tony's tongue, searching and soft, press against his balls and around the base of his cock then all the way up to the tip, where his cock plunged once again into the depths of Tony's soft, hot mouth. Sucking hungrily at his head Tony pumped a fist around the rest of his cock, before moving to kiss him below the belly button, down the trail of fuzz that led to his crotch.
With a wet finger he massaged the opening to his anus, flicking at it with his tongue, before poking a searching finger through the hole. At the same time he proceeded to take his entire cock into his mouth, as if swallowing him whole, sucking and kissing and licking, all while gently squeezing on his balls and massaging his arsehole and perineum.
Fabian reached out, combing his fingers into Tony's hair, and he thought about how brown and shiny it was when it was in sunlight and how it softened the angles of his harsh, longish jaw. He thought about Tony's pillowy lips, how moist and pink they were, moulded into a slight pout, and how they were now wrapped around his cock and he longed to be able to see it, to see Tony sucking at his cock instead of just feeling it and knowing it was Tony who did so. His face was so beautiful and Fabian wondered if his mortal eyes could ever behold such a sight. He didn't even know why Tony was doing this for him, when he was so terribly unloveable. Was this why they were in complete darkness? That the sight of him was such a turnoff he could only concentrate without seeing? He trailed a hand down the side of Tony's face and traced his lower jaw with a finger. His heart wrenched with longing even as he was on the verge of coming.
With a gasp he spurted into Tony's waiting mouth, Tony's fist still pumping vigorously up and down his cock. He thrust deeper into Tony's mouth, and Tony took him in again at length, tongue pressed against the tip, pooling the come in his mouth without swallowing. When he was done Tony grasped his hips roughly and flipped him around, pushing him up forcefully against the table, and, parting his butt cheeks, spat the come into his arsehole.
"Oh my God," Fabian gasped, realising what was going to happen next. "Fuck me," he cried. "I want you in me, I want your thick cock in me."
This Tony obliged, as Fabian heard him remove his trousers. Bent over on the table, he pushed his arse backwards and rubbed it against Tony's thigh. He heard Tony spit on his hand, heard it slick around Tony's cock, and felt Tony insert two wet fingers up his arse to stretch him out. Fabian gasped in anticipation, and clenched around Tony's fingers. Tony pulled out his fingers, and Fabian felt him rub the tip of his engorged cock around his arsehole, before pushing it in slowly.
"Fuck me, fuck me," Fabian begged, nearly screaming with desperation. He loved Tony's cock, he loved how large and thick it was and how straight it grew, blooming into a fat mushroom head. He loved how heavy it was especially against his skinny thighs, and he loved it so much the thought of it could drive him mad with want. He wanted to take it in and leave it there forever, fuck himself forever, impaled by this cock forever.
He was moaning and groaning incoherently with exertion, arse wiggling in the air, as Tony dipped his cock in and out several times. He pleaded for Tony to go faster, to fuck him into tomorrow or maybe oblivion. God he loved being stretched out like that, it made him feel so full and so fucking good. Tony began to thrust into him at a quicker pace and Fabian was almost shouting and crying himself silly. Oh God this cock was so fucking good he swore he could never love another cock like he loved this one. He buried his head into the crook of his elbow to muffle his rambling and screaming, all while he felt Tony's grip tighten on his hipbones so hard it felt like he was going to snap his pelvis into half. Tony was screwing into him relentlessly, sometimes faster and sometimes slower and Fabian felt like he was being pushed to the brink of existence. He moaned and arched backwards, grasping weakly behind him, wrapping his arm around Tony's neck, pushing his arse firmly against Tony, close enough to feel his balls slap into him. Tony leaned forward to kiss him on the shoulder blades, burying his face between them. Fabian heard his breath hitch and he heard him let out a whimper. He found it particularly charming that Tony was so quiet during sex, so controlled and in control. In contrast he was a quivering mess of a noisy blob begging and pleading and crying without dignity.
He heard Tony whimper softly again, and good lord that sound, that small sound, like he was at the limits of his quiet restraint, reached straight down to some unholy place within Fabian and he was soon cresting on another orgasm, despite that his now-flaccid penis was squashed uncomfortably on the table, the edge of which he gripped so tightly as his body was overcome by uncontrollable spasms. Sounds, half-formed and primal, tumbled from his mouth as he screamed and grunted his way through his second climax. He heard Tony's breath turn ragged from somewhere behind him as he thrust furiously into his arsehole and he felt Tony's hand hold on to his in a crushing grip and he felt Tony double over as he came into him with hardly a sound.
When he was done he pushed his cock in deeply a final time, slick and slippery with commingled come. After some while, he felt Tony slowly pull his cock out, and with his arsehole still puckering and clenching Fabian felt the come dribble down the inside of his thigh, sticky and hot. It was a good thing he kept some spare outfits at his desk in the office, for he was probably in no presentable state.
Tony produced a wiping cloth out of somewhere and roughly wiped him down in the dark, before moving on to wipe himself. There was the sound of him pulling up his trousers and zipping up the fly, and refastening the belt. Fabian took the cue to hastily pull on his clothes. Fabian wondered if he should say something, but it was then Tony opened the door and the glare of the outside light overwhelmed him. As he left the room, squinting, he realised that behind the counter sat another man, flipping through a catalogue, marking some pages with ticks. On noticing them, he looked up with beady eyes and a prurient smirk.
"Had a good lunch?" he asked gruffly.
"Shut up," Tony said, devoid of any expression, and returned to the camera with the wonky shutter.
Fabian looked around, embarrassed. He didn't know if it was wise to utter anything, but he mumbled that he was leaving and with the tiniest of waves scampered out from the shop.