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“You want to what?” John raises an eyebrow and leans back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. It’s almost defiant, but the look on his face is comical enough that Kevin says it again.
“I want to go see a movie.”
“We’re here, alone. And you want to go out and see a movie.” He waves a hand at the entertainment system, which save for the musical inadequacies, is pretty high tech. “We have movies. We have porn. I fail to see why we need to leave the sanctity of your apartment where we can watch these naked and with beer.”
“Because,” Kevin sighs and shrugs, “there’s a film festival.”
“So, you don’t want to go see a movie. You want to go see a bunch of them.”
“No. I want…” He blushes hotly and takes a drink of his beer, avoiding John’s eyes. “Never mind.”
“Kevin, come on.” John moves over to the sofa and sits on the arm of it, his bare feet brushing against Kevin’s thigh. “I’m sorry.”
“Liar.”
John fights his smile. “I’m mostly sorry. Sorryish.”
Kevin laughs softly. “They’re running a bunch of gangster films.”
“Gangsters.”
“Yeah.”
“Guns and prohibition and molls and dames and grapefruits in faces? Those kinds of gangsters?”
“You forgot the clothes and the cars, but yeah. Those types of gangsters.” He shrugs again, and can feel the blush on his skin, darker and hotter than before. “Forget it.”
“No. No. I’m sorry.” John nudges Kevin’s thigh with his toes. “We’ll go to the movie. Movie? Movies?”
“There’s two tonight. They’re short, though.”
“Do I have to wear a fedora?” John slides down onto the couch, crawling up Kevin’s body. “Carry a piece.”
Kevin shakes his head, laughing softly, his hand snaking down to the front of John’s jeans. “You’re already packing heat.”
John kisses him, his tongue pushing past Kevin’s parted lips, sliding along Kevin’s tongue. “What time’s the movie?”
Kevin groans as John thrusts into his hand. “Tonight.”
“What d’you say I tie your wrists up with those ties and we practice a little prohibition of our own. See how long you last before you’re singing like a bird.”
“And then you’ll give me the goods?”
John’s tongue skates along Kevin’s neck sending shivers down his spine. “Depends on how pretty you sing.”