And the bright neon sign led Thaddeus right to the pretty shop girl who seemed to miss every Thursday or so at Abby's tattoo place.
Thaddeus was a glutton for punishment. He sat at one of the bar stools, leaning leather clad elbows on the table top as he tracked shiny red-gold hair with dark eyes. He smelled like old tobacco and looked like someone had simply painted him into the scene. So much so that she didn't notice him, not at first. Her shy behavior and friendly smile seemed to be pleasing to the clientele, and her lack of observation gave him a moment to spy on her.
She was different than the spitfire of a girl who'd stomped out of the parlor. Not that Thaddeus believed she didn't have that inside her, but the bloke who'd given him quit a roughing up seemed to affect her attitude, and Thad thought she might be a little meeker without her bodyguard.
He licked his lips.
She did a double take when she finally looked in his direction. Her eyes widened, and she blushed, looking down.
"Glass of house wine," Thaddeus murmured, waggling his fingers in hello.
"Um, sorry, sir, I think we're fresh out," Finch said, but it was more mumbled than said. She gave him a tight, non-friendly smile. "I think you might want to leave."
"Why? Gonna have the boyfriend rough me up again?" Thad smirked. "Oh look, no boyfriend. I'd like a drink, if you please." He slipped twenty pounds across the bar.
"It's my dad's bar, and I say no drink for you. I might not have a boyfriend, but I've got several bouncers at the door that haven't seen a fight all week," Finch replied, sliding the twenty back at him. One of the other girls gave her a look that clearly asked if she'd lost control of her senses.
"They'll be sadly disappointed," Thaddeus murmured. "I'm not much of a fighter, love. I'm a lover at heart. Make love, not war. Hedonism. Look it up, darling." He smiled slyly. "I doubt ham fisted lover boy hasn't got a clue."
"Shut up, what would you know about anything?" Finch snapped, eyes flashing. Without her meaning to, all the doubts she'd had recently flickered on her open face. Like a book. "He's going to kill you. Get out."
Thaddeus got off the bar stool, only to lean further over the counter. He raised a dark brow and crooked a finger.
Finch took a step backwards. Nearly tripping.
Thaddeus chuckled.
"Careful, sweetheart, don't go hurting yourself over me," he smiled. "Cross my heart and hope not to die, I'll see you next Thursday - Finch Morstan."
"Or will you? I heard they might be putting her on a new shift," a tall blond said, shifting to slide up on a bar stool next to Thaddeus. He winked at Finch. "Tequila, slut."
"Excuse me, sir," Thaddeus frowned. "I doubt that's how you were taught to speak to a lady."
"This bitch likes it rough," the man said, watching Finch put his shot in front of him. "Don't you?"
"Sod off, you're not supposed to be drinking," Finch snapped, but she left the bottle and moved over to the other side of the bar to see to a customer.
Thaddeus usurped the drink, tossing it back. He grimaced. "Awful drink," he sniffed. "You know what they say, gin makes you sin, and tequila makes you want to take your clothes off."
Brandon raised his eyebrow and took a gulp from the bottle instead. "Look, I don't know who you are or why you're lookin' at her like that, but you're going to leave, and you're going to stop drinking my liquor."
"Show some class," Finch said, returning to slam a clean shot glass in front of him, slapping the back of his head.
"Or some ass," Thaddeus flirted shamelessly. "I didn't know a bar could be so prejudice. Especially when she's serving an alcoholic a whole bottle of tequila. What - on the house? Must be someone special."
"Honey, you have no idea. Now, get away from her and get out of the bar before I make you," Brandon threatened. "She's not for you."
"Why? Because of the handsy bloke who put a knife in my face," Thaddeus breathed. "Oh dear, I might like you making me. You're a lot prettier than those meatheads by the door."
"On the plus side, this is no longer about me," Finch said, hands up in surrender.
"Don't sound so disappointed, chickadee," Brandon told her. "I've got no use for that one. Oz would be sad." And so would Spencer. Brandon shook his head. "Nope, I'm just here to babysit you, my favorite little cuntface."
"Don't worry, love. You can't be babysat all the time," Thaddeus winked, stealing another shot of tequila from Brandon. "You can sit on me any time," he laughed, turning to leave.
"Ew," Brandon said, looking unimpressed.
***
Spencer carried his laptop bag inside. He was smiling harder than he had before. He'd taken to showing up around Abby's place on nights he knew Finch wouldn't be there. It wasn't all the time, but he piggybacked on her wifi until her customers cleared out. Then he'd tell her about his latest case, showing her the disgusting scum of the earth he was working to remove.
He'd end every night by coaxing her into a hug. Most of the time, she tensed up. It was awkward for several minutes, but finally her inked hand would come up to rest on his chest and she'd relax. He'd kiss her cheek softly and go home warm and happy.
"You look cheerful," Abby commented, glancing up at him.
Spencer scowled, but it quickly broke into a smile. "Excited to see you," he finally said, cheeks blushing. "Busy tonight?"
"Nah, just finished up. You got something on?" Abby asked, frowning at his enthusiasm. He was getting awful close and she wasn't sure she didn't feel sort of... caged. At the same time, she was... happy? to see him.
"Nah, I just like the change of scenery when I work. Working from home, y'know?" Spencer said, shouldering his bag. "Besides, the buzz of your machine is great white noise." He chewed his lip. "Any chance you've got room for one more client tonight?"
Abby scoffed. "What, you? You couldn't even get pierced."
"Yeah, but that didn't mean the right thing," Spencer said, looking off to the side. "I wasn't getting it for the right reason, and you knew that."
She nodded, flicking her purple bangs out of her eyes. "That's true. So what is the right reason, then?"
Spencer pulled up his laptop, bringing it out of sleep mode to show her his spreadsheet.
"I've got seventy five cases in the works, plus trackers on some of the worst offending websites. I got my third conviction through the police on a pedophile who'd had a ten year old in his basement for three years. I bloody well think that's a good reason, hmm?" Spencer said, eyes glassy with accomplishment.
Abby's brows raised, and she gulped. She felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her a little. "Yeah, I'd say that's a good enough reason. What sort of art would you be wantin'?"
"Not really art, so much," Spencer said. "I have a erm, handle. I go by a lot of things on the sites, but I prefer 'nobody'."
"Sort of clever," Abby replied with a hint of sarcasm. She crossed her arms over her chest, her small cleavage framed by her black tank top. "You sure you want something like that scrawled on you? Won't it make you easier to identify?"
"I never go far enough for them to see where I want it," Spencer smirked. "If that's not a problem... that is."
"Ain't no skin off my teeth to take your cash," Abby purred, as though she were talking to a customer. "Where you want it?"
Spencer raised his shirt, unbuttoning his jeans. "Between my hipbones," he said, thinking of his mother's tattoos. "It's gonna hurt isn't it?"
"Oh yeah, a lot," Abby grinned. She bit her lip before pointing a finger at the area, teasing it over his skin. "You sure you can handle it?"
Spencer shivered. "I'm ready for it this time," he whispered.
"Alright. Did you have a design in mind? A font you like or you want it freehand?" Abby asked, her curious fingers nudging towards his hip bone, scratching over the flesh there. Spencer tried not to hiss.
"I figured I'd trust your judgement," Spencer said on the inhale, his stomach curving in. "Your area, not mine."
Abby smirked. Tonight she'd applied darker purple lipstick, making her smile sinister and sexy. Her pink tongue darted out to dab at the corner of her mouth, and her fingers nudged, hinted, really, just a little bit lower. "Alright. Have a seat and we'll get started."
Spencer laid out on the the table he'd seen dozen of customers on. He shifted his jeans just a bit lower as he watched Abby pull out packaged bits of clean supplies. His heart began to beat faster and blood rushed somewhere it definitely shouldn't.
The antiseptic was cold, and the marker tickled as he let Abby design his personal brand. The moment of truth came when she slid on the ointment, then the machine buzzed.
Spencer's eyes went wide at the first blast of the needle, adrenaline rushing fast through his system.
"You okay?" Abby asked, making sure to glance up at his face on occasion.
"Yeah," Spencer said breathlessly, strangely confused at all the things he was feeling. He hoped she didn't notice his crotch. "Nothing compared to the knife to my thigh." Another buzz and Spencer shoved his fist in his mouth.
"You know what I like to do when I'm being worked on? Think of something else," Abby said, her voice going low as she continued to work. "Think of something to distract myself from the pain. Like ice lollies. Sucking on a sweet, juicy, strawberry flavored popsicle, your tongue working over the-"
Spencer moaned around his fist, half drooling. "Not helpin'," he whined, struggling not to shift. His mind flickered to the entirely wrong things. "Jesus-j- just keep going."
Abby purposefully licked her lips. "How am I not helping? I'm just talkin' about the sweet, pleasurable pressure of sucking on an red, hard, delicious treat. Swallowing down that juice, feeling it trickle into your stomach."
Spencer panted, covering his eyes with his arms. He wasn't imaging anything sweet at all, but something salty and hot, pushing over his tongue. The buzz and pain continued, throbbing all across his stomach. It hurt, definitely. Abby's warm fingers through the latex gloves holding his skin taught. He was positively leaking inside his jeans when she rinsed the tattoo.
Spencer lay shaking slightly on the table, mouth open and eyes still covered.
"You going to get up and take a look or your legs not quite recovered?" Abby joked, looking entirely too smug.
Spencer peeked from behind his arms. "You're fuckin' with me on purpose," he groaned, but did get up. He looked in the mirror and gasped softly. He ran his thumb over one sharp hipbone. "Brilliant."
"C'mon, let's get you wrapped up," Abby said, grinning. "So what if I am fuckin' with ya? There a problem?"
Spencer slunk over, letting her tape the wrap on him. He rebuttoned his jeans and tugged her in close. "Yeah, your little one night deal was a problem," he laughed. "And Bran's got himself some little frequent fuck."
"Jealous?" Abby asked, and her hand dipped wickedly back down over his jeans. "You're in love with him. That matters."
"I'm not-" Spencer complained. He grasped her arm. "He's family."
"You want me to stop?" Abby's eyes were wide and dark, watching his face. "You can let go of my arm. I promise, I won't touch you anymore."
Spencer shook his head, lightening his grasp, stroking her skin. "Don't- don't stop," he breathed. She smirked, and unbuttoned his jeans one more time, her hand sliding in to make contact with his warm, soft flesh.
"Don't stop?" Abby asked, her words barely a whisper.
Spencer's mouth dropped back open. He licked his dry lips. His head was dizzy as his hips bucked forward into Abby's hand. "Yesss," he hissed, arching forward for her lips. Her little hand with it's thin, strong fingers rubbed over his skin, stroking his prick under the rough denim. Her purple-stained lips met his in a thunder-storm level crash.
Spencer grasped her hair, kissing her heatedly as he rocked into her ministrations. He was panting rapidly. "Fuck, Abby - oh, God, I'm not gonna," he warned, licking at her lipstick flavored mouth.
"Yeah, yeah, Spencer," Abby said encouragingly. "C'mon, babe. Come for me."
Spencer practically screamed his release, falling back against the tattoo table. His curls were plastered against his face and his chest was heaving. He pulled Abby against him, pulling her hand from his jeans to lick it clean.
"Pervert," she giggled, settling in on him. She sighed. "It's gettin' late. I should get to sleep soon."
Spencer nuzzled at her jaw. "What do I owe you for the tattoo?" he murmured. "I'll have to think of something special to pay you back for the handjob." He squeezed her slightly.
"Handjob is on the house," Abby sighed. "For all you know that's how I end all my sessions."
"Bull, I've been around here enough," Spencer said, kissing her cheek, then her lips. "Next time, I want to taste you," he whispered against her lips. "You've got me orally fixated."
"Sweet boy. I think you were born with an oral fixation, if you catch my drift," Abby replied petting his chest. She yawned. "Alright, then. Up you get. If you aren't leaving, at least we could move somewhere more comfortable."
"Oh?" Spencer said. "Do I get to see the mysterious upstairs?" He laughed.
"Yeah, if it means a bed is involved, I s'pose I can be talked into letting you see the mysterious upstairs. Lucky for you, droppin' by on a night when I've had a bit of a dry spell and could use a little touchin'," Abby teased, patting his shoulder.
Spencer followed behind like a well besotted lover. He did let her fall asleep in his arms, surprisingly chaste after the handjob, but his sleeping patterns followed his Father's more than anything and he could hardly sleep after so much stimulation. His mind was buzzing, and Abby's sleeping body allowed him plenty of data to examine.
Finally, the sun began to rise, and he knew he'd need to get home.
"Abby," he whispered into her ear.
"Fuck off, 's'not even mornin'," Abby muttered, biting him.
"Mmph," Spencer grunted. "I know, but I wasn't gonna just leave, unlike some people." He nosed her cheek. "Kiss me bye."
Abby cracked one eye opened, and she looked like an angry kitten. She puckered her lips. Spencer laughed, kissing her softly. "I'll bring you dinner later, tonight," he said, tucking her wild hair back. "Later, okay?"
"Mmmfkay," she said and was snoring gently in less than a second.
Spencer just shook his head smiling. He remembered to pick up his laptop and case before locking up behind him. Abby's flat had been much like her studio. Covered in art and as if inside her mind had grown into physical manifestation.
He was still flying high as he quietly let himself into Baker Street. Brandon would either be leaving for school or work sometime soon, but he was hoping not to get caught sneaking in. He was supposed to be the responsible one. The stable one. You love him. He shied away from that mental thought.
He listened to the quiet flat, up the stairs and smiled. Not up yet. He'd just get a shower to wash off last night's activities, admire his new ink-
"Jesus Christ!" Spencer yelled.
Brandon's body was in the bathtub.
"You are so fuckin' loud," the still-drunk naked man answered. "Shhhhhh."
"Fucking hell, Bran," Spencer said, crouching down. He pulled at the blond hair. "You're drunk." And naked!
"Ouch, stippit, stooooop," Brandon said, cracking his eyes open, looking like an albino dragon. He flicked out his tongue. "Shh, sleeping."
"In the tub?" Spencer said. "You're lucky there isn't any water in there. You could've killed yourself, you idiot." He got up, grabbing the largest towel they owned and dropped it in Brandon's lap. "Or on the fucking stairs, how did you even get home?"
"I don't m'member," Brandon said, and rather than using the towel to dry himself, he decided to use it as a blanket. Around his shoulders. "How'd you get home? Huh? Tell me that, Mr. Questionsss."
"I took the Tube," Spencer said, cheeks turning red as a flash of pink cock made him look away. "Let me help you at least get to a bed, you lush." He grabbed for Brandon's shoulders. "You weigh a million kilos."
"It's 'cause my bones are filled with jelly," Brandon said, flopping onto Spencer, his crotch clearly rubbing on the outside of Spencer's soiled jeans. "Heavy Jelly. Ha! Cement Jelly. You want my jelly."
"Ooooh. My. God, Brandon," Spencer groaned. He got his shoulder under Brandon's arm and kicked open the bathroom door leading into his room. "Don't even make that joke right now. You're drunk. You're fucking drunk. I should shag you just so you'd know how stupid you are." He dropped Brandon on the bed.
"You gonna shag me? Teach me a lesson that I've been a bad, bad boy?" Bran snarled and slurred in Spencer's ear.
Spencer shivered, swallowing heavily. You love him.
He turned his head to hiss in Brandon's face. "I ought to, but I bet you couldn't even get it up, you tequila soaked slag. Boyfriend not even take you home?"
"Ha! Boyfriends are for fags," Brandon giggled, grinding his soft cock into Spencer's thigh. "I ain't need that shite."
"Brandon, stop it," Spencer snapped. He pulled the heavy duvet from the foot of the bed and shoved Brandon's shoulder to make him lay back. "You need to sober up, and Jesus Christ, cover up. You're not even wanking material right now." He covered him up.
"I know," Brandon sighed happily, falling back onto the cushy pillows. "Pathetic. At's me."
Spencer sat on the edge of the bed beside him.
"Pathetic, yeah," he said, stroking Brandon's hair, pulling the knots from it with his fingers. "What the hell are you thinking? I ought to call your Mum."
"Haaaa, like to see ya try. Hid my phone. Shhh, it's in the fridge." Brandon giggled, closing his eyes. "No phone, you can't call my mum."
"God, you are pissed," Spencer said, leaning down to drop his head on Brandon's. "I'm really disappointed in you, Bran."
"Who cares? Everyone else is. Join the club, little brother," Brandon said, but his hand reached up to keep their heads pressed together.
It shouldn't have sent the fire through Spencer's veins. He was better than that. He licked his lips. "I'm worried about you, Bran," Spencer whispered, clutching the blanket over Brandon. "You're better than this."
"No'm'not, or I'd be doin' somefin' else. Leave off, Mummerz, I dun need the lecture," Brandon replied, but his lips were brushing Spencer's. Spencer's heart clenched inside, but he pressed his lips to Brandon's. He tasted like he smelled - liquor coming off all his pores.
"D'you want me to stay?" Spencer asked softly.
"Kay, but shh. Spencer snores," Brandon murmured, pulling Spencer down on top of him.
Spencer rolled his eyes, but pulled off his glasses, throwing them at the end table. He squirmed under the blanket and remembered that Brandon was definitely, definitely starkers. He was careful to lay his hand above Brandon's waistline even as he snuggled against his neck. The adrenaline from last night was waning and the warmth and comfort had him dozing off.
He knew he'd regret waking up entangled with Brandon, especially like this, but it was Spencer's bed after all.
"You look cheerful," Abby commented, glancing up at him.
Spencer scowled, but it quickly broke into a smile. "Excited to see you," he finally said, cheeks blushing. "Busy tonight?"
"Nah, just finished up. You got something on?" Abby asked, frowning at his enthusiasm. He was getting awful close and she wasn't sure she didn't feel sort of... caged. At the same time, she was... happy? to see him.
"Nah, I just like the change of scenery when I work. Working from home, y'know?" Spencer said, shouldering his bag. "Besides, the buzz of your machine is great white noise." He chewed his lip. "Any chance you've got room for one more client tonight?"
Abby scoffed. "What, you? You couldn't even get pierced."
"Yeah, but that didn't mean the right thing," Spencer said, looking off to the side. "I wasn't getting it for the right reason, and you knew that."
She nodded, flicking her purple bangs out of her eyes. "That's true. So what is the right reason, then?"
Spencer pulled up his laptop, bringing it out of sleep mode to show her his spreadsheet.
"I've got seventy five cases in the works, plus trackers on some of the worst offending websites. I got my third conviction through the police on a pedophile who'd had a ten year old in his basement for three years. I bloody well think that's a good reason, hmm?" Spencer said, eyes glassy with accomplishment.
Abby's brows raised, and she gulped. She felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her a little. "Yeah, I'd say that's a good enough reason. What sort of art would you be wantin'?"
"Not really art, so much," Spencer said. "I have a erm, handle. I go by a lot of things on the sites, but I prefer 'nobody'."
"Sort of clever," Abby replied with a hint of sarcasm. She crossed her arms over her chest, her small cleavage framed by her black tank top. "You sure you want something like that scrawled on you? Won't it make you easier to identify?"
"I never go far enough for them to see where I want it," Spencer smirked. "If that's not a problem... that is."
"Ain't no skin off my teeth to take your cash," Abby purred, as though she were talking to a customer. "Where you want it?"
Spencer raised his shirt, unbuttoning his jeans. "Between my hipbones," he said, thinking of his mother's tattoos. "It's gonna hurt isn't it?"
"Oh yeah, a lot," Abby grinned. She bit her lip before pointing a finger at the area, teasing it over his skin. "You sure you can handle it?"
Spencer shivered. "I'm ready for it this time," he whispered.
"Alright. Did you have a design in mind? A font you like or you want it freehand?" Abby asked, her curious fingers nudging towards his hip bone, scratching over the flesh there. Spencer tried not to hiss.
"I figured I'd trust your judgement," Spencer said on the inhale, his stomach curving in. "Your area, not mine."
Abby smirked. Tonight she'd applied darker purple lipstick, making her smile sinister and sexy. Her pink tongue darted out to dab at the corner of her mouth, and her fingers nudged, hinted, really, just a little bit lower. "Alright. Have a seat and we'll get started."
Spencer laid out on the the table he'd seen dozen of customers on. He shifted his jeans just a bit lower as he watched Abby pull out packaged bits of clean supplies. His heart began to beat faster and blood rushed somewhere it definitely shouldn't.
The antiseptic was cold, and the marker tickled as he let Abby design his personal brand. The moment of truth came when she slid on the ointment, then the machine buzzed.
Spencer's eyes went wide at the first blast of the needle, adrenaline rushing fast through his system.
"You okay?" Abby asked, making sure to glance up at his face on occasion.
"Yeah," Spencer said breathlessly, strangely confused at all the things he was feeling. He hoped she didn't notice his crotch. "Nothing compared to the knife to my thigh." Another buzz and Spencer shoved his fist in his mouth.
"You know what I like to do when I'm being worked on? Think of something else," Abby said, her voice going low as she continued to work. "Think of something to distract myself from the pain. Like ice lollies. Sucking on a sweet, juicy, strawberry flavored popsicle, your tongue working over the-"
Spencer moaned around his fist, half drooling. "Not helpin'," he whined, struggling not to shift. His mind flickered to the entirely wrong things. "Jesus-j- just keep going."
Abby purposefully licked her lips. "How am I not helping? I'm just talkin' about the sweet, pleasurable pressure of sucking on an red, hard, delicious treat. Swallowing down that juice, feeling it trickle into your stomach."
Spencer panted, covering his eyes with his arms. He wasn't imaging anything sweet at all, but something salty and hot, pushing over his tongue. The buzz and pain continued, throbbing all across his stomach. It hurt, definitely. Abby's warm fingers through the latex gloves holding his skin taught. He was positively leaking inside his jeans when she rinsed the tattoo.
Spencer lay shaking slightly on the table, mouth open and eyes still covered.
"You going to get up and take a look or your legs not quite recovered?" Abby joked, looking entirely too smug.
Spencer peeked from behind his arms. "You're fuckin' with me on purpose," he groaned, but did get up. He looked in the mirror and gasped softly. He ran his thumb over one sharp hipbone. "Brilliant."
"C'mon, let's get you wrapped up," Abby said, grinning. "So what if I am fuckin' with ya? There a problem?"
Spencer slunk over, letting her tape the wrap on him. He rebuttoned his jeans and tugged her in close. "Yeah, your little one night deal was a problem," he laughed. "And Bran's got himself some little frequent fuck."
"Jealous?" Abby asked, and her hand dipped wickedly back down over his jeans. "You're in love with him. That matters."
"I'm not-" Spencer complained. He grasped her arm. "He's family."
"You want me to stop?" Abby's eyes were wide and dark, watching his face. "You can let go of my arm. I promise, I won't touch you anymore."
Spencer shook his head, lightening his grasp, stroking her skin. "Don't- don't stop," he breathed. She smirked, and unbuttoned his jeans one more time, her hand sliding in to make contact with his warm, soft flesh.
"Don't stop?" Abby asked, her words barely a whisper.
Spencer's mouth dropped back open. He licked his dry lips. His head was dizzy as his hips bucked forward into Abby's hand. "Yesss," he hissed, arching forward for her lips. Her little hand with it's thin, strong fingers rubbed over his skin, stroking his prick under the rough denim. Her purple-stained lips met his in a thunder-storm level crash.
Spencer grasped her hair, kissing her heatedly as he rocked into her ministrations. He was panting rapidly. "Fuck, Abby - oh, God, I'm not gonna," he warned, licking at her lipstick flavored mouth.
"Yeah, yeah, Spencer," Abby said encouragingly. "C'mon, babe. Come for me."
Spencer practically screamed his release, falling back against the tattoo table. His curls were plastered against his face and his chest was heaving. He pulled Abby against him, pulling her hand from his jeans to lick it clean.
"Pervert," she giggled, settling in on him. She sighed. "It's gettin' late. I should get to sleep soon."
Spencer nuzzled at her jaw. "What do I owe you for the tattoo?" he murmured. "I'll have to think of something special to pay you back for the handjob." He squeezed her slightly.
"Handjob is on the house," Abby sighed. "For all you know that's how I end all my sessions."
"Bull, I've been around here enough," Spencer said, kissing her cheek, then her lips. "Next time, I want to taste you," he whispered against her lips. "You've got me orally fixated."
"Sweet boy. I think you were born with an oral fixation, if you catch my drift," Abby replied petting his chest. She yawned. "Alright, then. Up you get. If you aren't leaving, at least we could move somewhere more comfortable."
"Oh?" Spencer said. "Do I get to see the mysterious upstairs?" He laughed.
"Yeah, if it means a bed is involved, I s'pose I can be talked into letting you see the mysterious upstairs. Lucky for you, droppin' by on a night when I've had a bit of a dry spell and could use a little touchin'," Abby teased, patting his shoulder.
Spencer followed behind like a well besotted lover. He did let her fall asleep in his arms, surprisingly chaste after the handjob, but his sleeping patterns followed his Father's more than anything and he could hardly sleep after so much stimulation. His mind was buzzing, and Abby's sleeping body allowed him plenty of data to examine.
Finally, the sun began to rise, and he knew he'd need to get home.
"Abby," he whispered into her ear.
"Fuck off, 's'not even mornin'," Abby muttered, biting him.
"Mmph," Spencer grunted. "I know, but I wasn't gonna just leave, unlike some people." He nosed her cheek. "Kiss me bye."
Abby cracked one eye opened, and she looked like an angry kitten. She puckered her lips. Spencer laughed, kissing her softly. "I'll bring you dinner later, tonight," he said, tucking her wild hair back. "Later, okay?"
"Mmmfkay," she said and was snoring gently in less than a second.
Spencer just shook his head smiling. He remembered to pick up his laptop and case before locking up behind him. Abby's flat had been much like her studio. Covered in art and as if inside her mind had grown into physical manifestation.
He was still flying high as he quietly let himself into Baker Street. Brandon would either be leaving for school or work sometime soon, but he was hoping not to get caught sneaking in. He was supposed to be the responsible one. The stable one. You love him. He shied away from that mental thought.
He listened to the quiet flat, up the stairs and smiled. Not up yet. He'd just get a shower to wash off last night's activities, admire his new ink-
"Jesus Christ!" Spencer yelled.
Brandon's body was in the bathtub.
"You are so fuckin' loud," the still-drunk naked man answered. "Shhhhhh."
"Fucking hell, Bran," Spencer said, crouching down. He pulled at the blond hair. "You're drunk." And naked!
"Ouch, stippit, stooooop," Brandon said, cracking his eyes open, looking like an albino dragon. He flicked out his tongue. "Shh, sleeping."
"In the tub?" Spencer said. "You're lucky there isn't any water in there. You could've killed yourself, you idiot." He got up, grabbing the largest towel they owned and dropped it in Brandon's lap. "Or on the fucking stairs, how did you even get home?"
"I don't m'member," Brandon said, and rather than using the towel to dry himself, he decided to use it as a blanket. Around his shoulders. "How'd you get home? Huh? Tell me that, Mr. Questionsss."
"I took the Tube," Spencer said, cheeks turning red as a flash of pink cock made him look away. "Let me help you at least get to a bed, you lush." He grabbed for Brandon's shoulders. "You weigh a million kilos."
"It's 'cause my bones are filled with jelly," Brandon said, flopping onto Spencer, his crotch clearly rubbing on the outside of Spencer's soiled jeans. "Heavy Jelly. Ha! Cement Jelly. You want my jelly."
"Ooooh. My. God, Brandon," Spencer groaned. He got his shoulder under Brandon's arm and kicked open the bathroom door leading into his room. "Don't even make that joke right now. You're drunk. You're fucking drunk. I should shag you just so you'd know how stupid you are." He dropped Brandon on the bed.
"You gonna shag me? Teach me a lesson that I've been a bad, bad boy?" Bran snarled and slurred in Spencer's ear.
Spencer shivered, swallowing heavily. You love him.
He turned his head to hiss in Brandon's face. "I ought to, but I bet you couldn't even get it up, you tequila soaked slag. Boyfriend not even take you home?"
"Ha! Boyfriends are for fags," Brandon giggled, grinding his soft cock into Spencer's thigh. "I ain't need that shite."
"Brandon, stop it," Spencer snapped. He pulled the heavy duvet from the foot of the bed and shoved Brandon's shoulder to make him lay back. "You need to sober up, and Jesus Christ, cover up. You're not even wanking material right now." He covered him up.
"I know," Brandon sighed happily, falling back onto the cushy pillows. "Pathetic. At's me."
Spencer sat on the edge of the bed beside him.
"Pathetic, yeah," he said, stroking Brandon's hair, pulling the knots from it with his fingers. "What the hell are you thinking? I ought to call your Mum."
"Haaaa, like to see ya try. Hid my phone. Shhh, it's in the fridge." Brandon giggled, closing his eyes. "No phone, you can't call my mum."
"God, you are pissed," Spencer said, leaning down to drop his head on Brandon's. "I'm really disappointed in you, Bran."
"Who cares? Everyone else is. Join the club, little brother," Brandon said, but his hand reached up to keep their heads pressed together.
It shouldn't have sent the fire through Spencer's veins. He was better than that. He licked his lips. "I'm worried about you, Bran," Spencer whispered, clutching the blanket over Brandon. "You're better than this."
"No'm'not, or I'd be doin' somefin' else. Leave off, Mummerz, I dun need the lecture," Brandon replied, but his lips were brushing Spencer's. Spencer's heart clenched inside, but he pressed his lips to Brandon's. He tasted like he smelled - liquor coming off all his pores.
"D'you want me to stay?" Spencer asked softly.
"Kay, but shh. Spencer snores," Brandon murmured, pulling Spencer down on top of him.
Spencer rolled his eyes, but pulled off his glasses, throwing them at the end table. He squirmed under the blanket and remembered that Brandon was definitely, definitely starkers. He was careful to lay his hand above Brandon's waistline even as he snuggled against his neck. The adrenaline from last night was waning and the warmth and comfort had him dozing off.
He knew he'd regret waking up entangled with Brandon, especially like this, but it was Spencer's bed after all.
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