Charles had been fellating his spoon for twenty minutes.
It was excruciatingly irritating. He'd done it through his soup, and now through his ice cream, searing heat followed by burning cold, and Charles' mouth on every surface, licking and sucking and making sounds indistinguishable from the ones he made when he was doing something indecent to the tip of Erik's—
In that poorly lit diner, surrounded by strangers, Erik was as hard as he'd ever been. He was harder than he'd been the first time, when Charles had finally decided to let him in on the knowledge that, yes, he knew Erik wanted him, and yes, he wanted Erik, too, and no, he didn't think it was unreasonable that they'd been on the road for three weeks and shared a bed twice without him bothering to put Erik out of his misery. He was harder than he'd been when Charles had talked him into having sex in the car, after three hours of him running his fingertips up and down Erik's thigh and arm, followed by half an hour of him rubbing and fondling Erik through his trousers, and telling him how much he wanted to taste him, really, Erik, if you'd just pull over, I'll make it quick, you won't even have to take your hands off the wheel...
Erik hadn't taken his hands off the wheel. Instead, he'd come twice as hard as he ever had before, and he meant to resent it forever.
You can't possibly resent it that badly, Charles said, because of course he couldn't say it out loud; he'd have to stop giving head to the silverware for that. Considering we've done it three times since.
"Stay out of my head," Erik said, for the thousandth time since they'd met. There was very little bite in it, and perhaps there had never been, and so it wasn't surprising when Charles didn't listen.
Of course, Charles said, absently as he always did. I do think you'd enjoy it. There you'd be, your cock out, your legs spread. And there I'd be, on my knees between them. You wouldn't be able to see as much, but I'd be there. He dipped his spoon back in his ice cream. I'd lick you first, like so. He licked the spoon. Then I'd suck you. He sucked the spoon. Erik's erection strained against its confinement. I'd do it where everyone could see—but they wouldn't see. The waitress might come to refill your coffee with you halfway down my throat, and she still wouldn't know anything was off. She'd probably think I'd gone to the bathroom, and you were a bit awkward speaking to women.
"The alley," Erik said. Not a risk he'd have considered taking before now, but he wasn't going to make it as far as the car, never mind their hotel room.
Once I was done swallowing you, maybe we'd go back to the room. Charles had stopped even pretending to eat his ice cream; now he was sucking the spoon so hard his cheeks were hollowed. Or maybe I'd bend you over this table and fuck you right here. Right in front of all of them.
The picture rose in Erik's mind, so clear it could have come from either of them; his hands flat on the table's surface, pants around his ankles, Charles driving into him as he had night after night in room after room, until he'd spent himself deep within Erik's body, and lay on top of him, his chest a heavy warm weight against Erik's back until they had both recovered their breath.
"The restroom."
Here.
Erik looked at the door. He could still walk away (limp away). Charles wouldn't stop him; Charles would keep anyone from noticing the state he was in, might even apologize for pushing too hard, later.
Erik didn't have any interest in being apologized to tonight.
"You'll freeze them instead," he said.
Charles took the spoon out of his mouth, set it down on the table. Erik felt the loss as keenly as he'd have felt it if Charles had stopped halfway through a blow job. "Done."
The elderly couple two booths down froze where they were, the woman halfway through putting down her cup of coffee, and the man halfway through cutting something on his plate. The waitress froze midway through asking the truck driver who'd just sat down what he'd like to drink.
Charles slid from the booth to the floor, so smoothly he must have been orchestrating it for as long as he'd been tormenting Erik, if not even longer.
First there came Charles' hands on Erik's knees, both of them. He rubbed his palms up and down Erik's thighs, creating a pleasant, warm friction. He'd been right when he said there wouldn't be much to see, so Erik closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the dirty plates and bowls on the sticky tabletop, or the strangers frozen in front of him and to the side.
Not having to look at anything made it that much more clearer that the only sound in the room was Erik's own rough breathing, and the rasp of Charles' palms underneath.
"Get on with it," he said, spreading his legs.
"Yes," Charles said, and made short work of Erik's belt, and then of his zipper (and if he'd been expecting help there, he didn't get it, not this time...but he seemed to have it handled). Moments later, Erik's cock sprang out into the cool air, and was immediately enveloped by a warm wet suction. Those noises were loud, too, too loud for a public place, and somehow even more erotic here than they'd been when Erik was inclined on a hotel bed, watching Charles' head bobbing up and down, the way his lips were wrapped around him. There was only so much room to see anything here, unless he leaned against the back of the booth...
But to lean back would be to relax, and that was one thing Erik couldn't do, not when Charles' spell could break at any moment. He closed his eyes again, fisting his hands against the cracked vinyl covering of the seat.
He nearly came a moment later—then remembered where they were, and didn't. It happened again a minute later, and again a minute after that.
Quick really would be better, darling, Charles said, retreating so that all he had in his mouth was the tip, which he proceeded to suction as strongly as he ever had the spoon. I can't keep them frozen forever, you know. He took the rest of Erik back in, until he had nearly all of him. It would be rather embarrassing if they happened to wake up and see us, don't you think?
It would have been mortifying, and so there was no reason for that image to be the one that sent Erik over—and yet it was. His hips lifted off the seat as he came down Charles' throat in three strong bursts and several slighter ones.
By the time Erik had zipped his pants back up and buckled his belt, Charles had reappeared across from him. His cheeks were red and blotchy, his lips slick and used.
"I don't suppose you'd consider the table?" he asked.
"No."
"Really, I could hold them for hours. I just thought saying otherwise might help you."
No longer having an erection like a bar of iron had helped Erik; now, although the prospect of letting Charles fuck him right here was still appealing enough to make his spent cock twitch, it wasn't appealing enough to actually submit to.
"You can fuck me in the alley," Erik said.
Ever hopeful, Charles said, "Are you sure that's your final offer?"
"Get the check," Erik said.
Everyone around them unfroze. When the waitress passed by them again, Charles waived her down. A few minutes later, they were in the alley behind the dumpster, where anyone who wanted to investigate strange noises after dark could have walked in on them. The brick wall was rough against Erik's palms, Charles' hands bruising on his hips.
On their way back to the car, Erik said, "This was a one-time thing."
Charles laughed, and wrapped his arm around Erik's waist for the remaining steps, as free and easy with his affection as he always was, no matter who might be watching. "We're going to do it again tomorrow. Wait and see."