"Fuck off, I am not." Dom twisted in his seat and gave Karl that patented 'British-Superior-King-of-the-World' look. Which shouldn't work, since Dom wasn't even British. Not really. "Alright, then. Explain why we're here." "I heard it was a good movie," Karl grumbled. Wasn't going to give an inch. Dom was wrong. Because Karl wasn't. Simple as that. "I've heard people do that, you know. Watch movies if they're good." "And?" Oh, fuck those eyes, anyway. Grey and pure and all-knowing peering from either side of a pug little nose. Fucker. "And I like pirate movies?" "And?" "And nothing, so lay off." Dom looked at him for another long moment before turning straight in his chair, settling his popcorn back in his lap with a small smirk. "Oh no, you don't. I know that look." "What look?" "That one. The one that says you know something I don't." Karl scooped up a handful of popcorn and continued to glare at Dom while advertisements played onscreen. "Oh, I know something." Dom grinned, taking a huge slurp of his Coke. "But, so do you." "Look, I am not watching this movie to moon over Orlando fucking Bloom," Karl hissed. "We're mates, for fuck's sake." Stupid, stupid...fuck. He knew better than to let Dom goad him. Dammit. "Why're you here, anyway?" Dom laid a warm hand on Karl's knee, his grin gleaming in the dim lights. "Because, unlike you, I did come to moon over Orlando bloody Bloom, mate or no." "Fuck. Off." Dom chuckled, thumb dragging up Karl's thigh. "Alright, alright. I really came to keep you company. Missed you." "You're not acting like it." Fuck, was that a pout? Sounded like a pout. Lovely. Grown man and he sounded like his damn three-year-old son. "Poor Karl." Dom leaned in, placed a small, wet kiss on Karl's neck. "Feeling unloved?" "Dom!" Karl squirmed, tried -- honest, see, moving away, really -- to twist away from Dom's fingers. Which were, um, oh fuck, inching higher. And higher still. "Shh, previews are starting." Right. Previews. Pay attention to the screen, to -- "Jesus!" Muted yelp when cool fingers nimbly unbuttoned his jeans and closed over his cock. "Commando, love? You shouldn't have." Dom's amused whisper was low in Karl's ear. "What're...um...y'doing?" Not that it wasn't perfectly obvious what -- ohfuckohfuck -- Dom was doing with his hand. Clever, clever hand, clever strong fingers wrapping and curling and fuck, ohfuck, moving... "Relax," Dom murmured, shifting closer, licking a wet path along Karl's neck. Relax? When there was nibbling and stroking and -- "Fuck, oh fuck" -- more stroking and there were muted moans coming from somewhere far away, but Karl couldn't concentrate on anything except for a wet tongue and a tight fist. And the stroking, the up and down, upanddown, twisting, moving, and long fingers wrapped around him, snug against tight skin, and faster, yes, pleaseohplease, oh fuck... Dom's lips were warm against Karl's as Karl slid bonelessly back into his seat. Breathing -- yeah, good idea, that. Except...too much effort. Just sit back, limp and sated and confused and watch the opening credits with glassy eyes. Sounded like a plan. "What wassat?" Karl asked -- mumbled, really -- when he could speak. Dom finished wiping off his hand on a napkin and dropped his head to Karl's shoulder. "Just felt like it." Okay. Good enough. Karl wrapped a weak arm across Dom's back, settled into the cushion. "Too bad it's not a double feature." Dom smiled, kissing just under Karl's jaw. "We can always stay for the next showing."
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