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Felix and Triple had officially been kicked from the hotel bar.
“Too rowdy,” the bartender had sneered, waving them off like a pair of stray cats. Felix barely remembered what they’d done to deserve it, but judging by Triple’s delighted cackling as they stumbled out into the night, he figured it must have been something fun.
Arms slung around each other, they staggered through the streets, laughing too hard at jokes that were only funny in the delirious, weightless haze of being piss-drunk at three in the morning.
Felix had slowed as they reached an intersection, squinting at the neon lights of a convenience store across the street. Something about the big, glowing 7 in the sign made him feel a little sad, though he couldn’t quite place why.
Shut up, he told his stupid brain. What was there to be sad about? He was Felix fucking Ventura, and he was on national television. He was having the time of his life with a guy who actually let him have fun – unlike his band, who started to give him those eyes again after only his fifth drink.
He racked his foggy brain for what people did when they were sad. Unfortunately, more alcohol was out of the question – they'd just gotten kicked from the only bar in walking distance that wasn't swarming with paps. He smiled to himself. Orion should be proud of him for thinking this far ahead, for being responsible. Alas, the problem remained. With alcohol off the table, what was the next best thing for easing the pain? For washing away bad feelings. For making bitter moments just a little sweeter.
His addled brain arrived at a brilliant solution.
Wait, he thought. Where would they get coke at this time?
After a beat, his brain arrived at a more accessible solution.
“Hey,” Felix said, elbowing Triple gently. “You want some ice cream?”
Triple almost nodded, then hesitated, looking queasy. “Nah, but be my guest. You got a hankerin’?”
Felix felt like he knew that word, but it eluded him in the moment. He pulled a face. “What does that… does that mean the same as hanky-panky or something?”
Triple barked out a laugh that echoed down the street. “Jesus, you’re wasted, man.” With the blind confidence of one drunk leading another, he grabbed Felix by the shoulders and started steering him toward the 7-Eleven. “Let’s get you your ice cream.”
Ten minutes later, they had ended up in some dingy alleyway, perched on the curb like a pair of washed-up delinquents. Not by choice – Triple had stumbled over his own feet, and Felix, out of camaraderie, had dropped down beside him.
Felix angled his vanilla cone at Triple. “You sure you don’t want some?”
Triple grimaced. “Nah man, I think I’m gonna hurl. Sorry, by the way. Still feel bad about last time.”
Felix waved a hand. “It’s nothing. Listen… once, I barfed in front of Dako–uh, someone I hooked up with, like, seconds after she jerked me off. But I guess she was into it because she still gave me her number.”
That got a chortle out of Triple.
Felix was about to elaborate when he felt the cold trickle of melted ice cream sliding over his fingers, no match for the warm Vegas night. “Shit,” he muttered, quickly flicking out his tongue to catch it. He chased the drip down the length of the cone, tracing the ridges slowly and carefully before sucking the tip between his lips.
When he finished, he found Triple staring.
“What?” Felix asked as he licked the last bit of ice cream off his thumb.
Triple gestured vaguely at his mouth. “That was… fucking hot, man.”
A sharp jolt of thrill ran through Felix. He smiled, slow and lazy. “Oh yeah?”
Maintaining eye contact, he took another exaggerated lick along the side of the cone before wrapping his lips around the ice cream and hollowing his cheeks as he sucked, letting his tongue swirl over it in a way that would have bumped a movie from PG-13 to R.
Triple’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. Felix smirked as his gaze flicked downward; the shift of Triple’s thighs was subtle, but not subtle enough. Not with the way his jeans were failing to hide exactly how much he liked the show.
On impulse, Felix glanced at his own lap.
Oh.
Huh.
They looked at each other. Then down at themselves. Then back at each other.
The alley was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city. It was three in the morning – too late for stragglers, too early for the sunrise. No one to see. No one to stop them…
Triple grinned, sounding slightly breathless. “Wanna make this weirder, or…?”
Already stumbling to his feet, Felix grinned back. “Do bears fuck in the woods?”
With drunken coordination and yet drunken determination, Felix braced himself against the brick wall as he waited for the world to stop spinning. One hand still holding the ice cream cone, he fumbled with his belt, the metal buckle clinking in the quiet as he pulled it loose. He barely had his boxers down when–
“Aw, man.” Triple’s voice was a disappointed drawl. “The curtains don’t match the drapes?”
Felix snorted. “What the hell are you–my hair’s literally gree–”
His words dissolved into a loud, choked moan as Triple’s hand wrapped around his cock – hot, firm, just rough enough. Felix’s breath hitched as Triple’s fingers squeezed at the base before stroking upward in slow, teasing drags.
The ice cream cone slipped from Felix’s hand, landing somewhere near his feet. He barely noticed. He clapped a hand over his mouth, trying – and failing – to stifle the pathetic, desperate sounds spilling out of him.
“Shhh,” Triple teased, eyes gleaming. “What if someone hears?”
Felix wanted to respond, but all that came out was another muffled whimper.
Then, Triple leaned in, his breath warm against burning skin.
Felix felt like he was on the verge of combusting as Triple pressed open-mouthed kisses along his hip bone, teasing the sensitive skin. Triple’s tongue flicked over the head of his cock, dipping into the slit, sending electric pleasure down Felix’s spine.
Then, finally – finally – Triple took him into his mouth – a wet, maddening descent that eventually gave way to hot, slick pressure. Felix watched dizzily as Triple’s lips stretched obscenely around him.
Felix’s head knocked back hard against the wall, but he hardly felt it. “Holy fuck,” he panted, hands scrambling against the brick. His hips jerked involuntarily, pushing deeper into Triple’s mouth.
Triple hummed softly, the vibration sending stars exploding behind Felix’s eyes and making his cock ache with anticipation. Every drag and swirl of his tongue brought him closer to the edge.
“I–ahh–I’m close,” Felix gasped. “I–”
He barely finished the thought before pleasure crashed over him, his whole body shuddering as Triple swallowed him down. The lewd, sloppy noise from Triple pulling off him sent another shiver down his spine, his oversensitive cock twitching in the night air.
Christ.
Felix slumped against the wall, his pulse hammering in his ears as the aftershocks faded. Through the lingering haze, he watched Triple wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking like a cat that got the cream. “Guess I had room for dessert, after all,” Triple drawled.
But Felix hadn't had his fill yet.
He barely let either of them breathe before he yanked Triple up by the shirt and pressed their mouths together. The kiss was messy, bumping noses and clacking teeth, more hunger than finesse. He chased his own taste on Triple’s tongue, amongst the tequila and whiskey.
Triple pulled away for a second, giggling against his lips. “You taste like vanilla.”
Felix didn’t respond, too busy guiding his hand under Triple’s shirt, fingers skimming over sweaty skin, searching for–
Ahhh. There it was.
Felix rolled the cool metal of the nipple piercing between his fingertips, smiling at the filthy groan that ripped itself from Triple’s throat. Encouraged, Felix dragged his thumb over the barbell, dragging lazy circles around the sensitive flesh before giving it another teasing tug.
Triple shuddered, hands fumbling with his own belt, like he would die if he couldn’t get it off fast enough. Felix grinned, deciding to be merciful. He slipped a hand into the jeans, fingers curling around the hardness waiting there.
Triple gasped, forehead dropping to Felix’s shoulder as he thrust into his palm. Felix traced slow kisses – sticky and sweet – along his jaw, his throat, his pulse, enraptured by the way Triple was unravelling in his hands. He couldn’t help but tease. “Turnabout’s fair play, huh?”
Triple only groaned in response, hips jerking into his touch.
Felix grinned. And then, languidly and leisurely, he sank to his knees.
His tongue flicked over the tip first, tasting the salt of precum. Then, with agonising patience that surprised even himself, he slowly dragged his tongue down the length of Triple’s cock, savouring him the same way he had savoured his ice cream – like something indulgent, something worth taking his time with.
And then, in one wanton movement, he took Triple into his mouth.
Triple choked on a curse as his fingers tightened in Felix’s hair, like he was trying to anchor himself. Felix hummed around him, the vibrations making Triple’s hips jerk. Felix welcomed it, hollowing his cheeks as Triple fucked his mouth – rough, desperate and almost animalistic. He gripped Triple's thighs, but he wasn't sure if he was steadying Triple or himself.
“Shit–” Triple tugged at Felix’s hair, voice breaking. “Wait, I’m about to–”
Felix didn’t stop.
Triple groaned, his whole body locking up as he came, fingers tightening almost painfully in Felix’s hair. The pull only sent another pulse of heat through Felix, pleasure curling low in his stomach at the feeling of being wanted like this.
He swallowed, slow and deliberate, letting Triple feel every second of it. Then, with an obscene, wet pop, he pulled away. He dragged his tongue across his swollen lips, licking them clean.
Only then did he look up, meeting Triple’s gaze through dark lashes.
“You taste even better than the ice cream,” Felix murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. Then, with a wicked glint in his eye, “How ‘bout we go for seconds?”