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The blow caught him by surprise, snapping his head around. TC blinked slowly in the silence, pain crawling over his skin in hot streaks.
“Now we’re even.”
Fuck. That had been a good punch; there was blood in his mouth, hot and metallic, tasting of death and life, and his heart was racing while the faint echo of another place filled his ears. Shoving back the memories, TC spat into the sink and grinned bloody down at the smear over the white.
He ran the tap.
He washed his hands.
Dried them.
Then turned and closed the distance between Ragosa and himself, slamming the smaller man back into the wall.
“I don’t like you,” he whispered, getting right into his face, crowding him back with his larger form. Ragosa let out a feral sort of enraged, wordless snarl, although he seemed unaware of doing so; his back was pressed firm against the cold cement wall, hands flat to it to steady himself. TC had him hemmed in by the garbage can on one side and stalls on the other. A flush of rage was crawling up Ragosa’s neck, and the tick going in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “So don’t take this the wrong way.”
His mouth was hard, full of teeth and harshness- he gave no quarter, pushing him back hard until they were flush to their groins, then shoved a knee between Ragosa’s neatly pressed pantlegs as he was filled with a savage urge to muse him, wrinkle his clothes and dirty his skin and mark him. Just to make it more real, make him more human. But when he pulled at Ragosa’s short hair, tugging hard enough to pull his head back, he surprised TC by responded in kind- biting at his mouth, fingers curling into claws to hook him tight and hold the taller doctor against his body. The exchange stopped just short of actual violence, both men panting in each other’s mouths, hands fumbling with clothing.
“I still don’t like you,” Ragosa growled as he pulled at TC’s pants, freeing his stiff cock and stroking quickly, no effort to be less brutal in his attentions.
But he loved it. Needed it, just like this. Couldn’t help but laugh thickly into another jagged, razor-blade kiss.
“You don’t have to. Just don’t stop,” And he didn’t.
It was too dry, and too fast, but fuck it was perfect. He almost told him, but decided at the last moment to keep that to himself, and instead pulled the zip on those pretentious slacks, fitting his hand inside the tight confines rather than pop the button. Ragosa stiffened against him as he grabbed him through his underwear, grunting something his breath, and picked his pace up to a truly punishing level.
TC tugged his hand free from his slacks, and caught his wrist, pulling it off his dick before he could do it any damage. “For fuck sakes, I don’t need road burn. At least spit into your hand, you savage,” but he was smiling, grinning almost, and leaning down to him. The nastiness was absent from this kiss, a long, slow press as he fished Ragosa out of his pants. Two picks in his hand made it clumsy, slower, but that right sort of clumsy; his free hand was in his boss’s hair, holding his head at the perfect angle, and if he got fired it was likely worth it because Ragosa’s hand was wrapped around his wrapped around their dicks, and he had to break from counting all his teeth with his tongue to lick a line down his throat to a spot just – barely- covered by his shirt collar.
As his own orgasm his, and TC came over their hands, he bite down on Ragosa’s exposed collarbone. Hard enough to make him cry out sharply in alarm, body tensing at the pain- then tensing further, as he painted their skin, his cum covering TC’s.
His heart was going too fast, and the air suddenly felt fucking cold. He shivered, and moved further into the warmth offered by Ragosa. The man’s suit was wrinkled, and from this close (his nose was resting pressed right into his throat, at its warmest point because he could) TC could see blood gathering in the dental impressions of his bite. He chuckled.
“.....I might have lied, earlier.”