Chapter Text
Thorne’s throat burned as he downed his third shot of Fireball whiskey and slammed his shot glass back down onto the bar. Next to him, his best friend John downed his own shot and slammed his glass next to Thorne’s, grimacing at the burn and shaking his head. Thorne smiled and laughed, nudging his friend in the ribs.
“Whiskey’s not your thing, eh?” Thorne teased.
“Not exactly,” John croaked, clearing his throat. “Especially not when it tastes like fucking cough syrup mixed with cinnamon candy.”
Thorne laughed again, running one hand through his styled black hair. His nails flashed pink and black in the pulsing lights. They stood at the bar on the other side of a crowded dance floor and a DJ booth. The state-of-the art sound system blared music varying between current artists to older ones, such as Def Leppard and Queen. At the moment, Green Day was playing, and John smiled because of how much the lead singer of that band resembled Thorne and vice versa.
“Thanks for taking me out,” Thorne called over the music.
“No problem,” John replied. “It’s your 21st! Have to make it a big deal, right?”
Thorne grinned, his kohl-lined blue eyes shining. He ordered a fourth shot of Fireball for himself and John. Both men downed the burning liquid and faced the dance floor. The bass from the DJ booth pounded through the whole building as if it were the club’s very heartbeat. Strobe lights flashed and dry-ice smoke floated across the club like a ghost.
“Want to dance?” Thorne asked as the music changed, this time to an artist John didn’t recognize.
“I may need more alcohol to pull that off,” he answered.
“No problem,” Thorne said. He turned to the bar again and faced the bartender. “What’s a drink I can give my friend here to get him onto the dance floor?”
“A glass of vodka never fails,” the bartender replied.
“Perfect,” Thorne said, clapping John on the shoulder. “A glass of your best vodka for my mate here.”
The bartender grabbed a large white bottle off the shelf behind her, then poured a generous amount of it into a tall glass. She pushed it across the bar toward John. He took it and downed it in three large swallows, tasting vanilla. Thorne whooped and grabbed John’s arm, pulling him onto the dance floor. John’s body felt warm and tingly from all the drinks, but he still felt a little self-conscious out on the floor.
“Don’t worry, John,” Thorne said. “Just dance!”
John did, staying close to Thorne among the packed bodies. Thorne looked so natural in the club setting, with his black, rock-star styled hair, his tight leather pants, black V-neck shirt that left almost all of his chest exposed, and his seamlessly applied makeup. A black chain choker encircled his throat and a bracelet with a padlock charm on it gleamed on his right wrist. They danced for about an hour before John decided he needed a break.
Thorne stayed out on the floor while John stood at the bar, watching, nursing another glass of the vanilla vodka. He watched Thorne dance between a couple pretty young girls, dressed in black fishnet and glossy high heels that John thought would’ve been impossible to walk in, let alone dance. One stood in front of Thorne and the other was behind him, grinding their bodies against his, touching him in a flirty way. John’s chest burned with a familiar feeling that he couldn’t chalk up to the alcohol.
He’d been best friends with Thorne for years and they spent a lot of time together, but over the years, John had felt his feelings grow into something more than just friendship. He had never acted on anything though, since he knew Thorne liked girls more and had never considered John more than a friend. John wasn’t willing to risk their friendship by bringing his true feelings to light, but that still didn’t stop the slight jealousy he felt whenever he saw Thorne with a girl.
John watched one of the girls, a skinny blonde, pull Thorne closer and whisper something in his ear. John turned away, slamming his empty glass onto the bar. The bartender refilled it. John drank more, but then he felt arms wrapped around his waist from behind.
“What’re you sulking over here for?” Thorne asked, his voice slightly slurred.
John looked at him as Thorne appeared at his side, staring at him. The taller man looked away and felt his face burning.
“M’not sulking,” he muttered.
“Yes, you are,” Thorne insisted. “Your face is too pretty to look so sad like that.”
John stared at Thorne. He’d never called John ‘pretty’ before. Was it genuine? Or just a drunken slip up? Thorne’s face was flushed from drink but also serious. John blinked at him.
“What did you just say?” he asked.
“Your face is too pretty to be sad,” Thorne repeated. “Smile, baby. Smile for my birthday.”
John smiled and so did Thorne. He punched John on the shoulder. “There it is, there’s that sexy smile of yours.”
John blushed harder. Thorne grinned, then flagged down the bartender. “Hey, we need some tequila down here ASAP!”
As the bartender grabbed a bottle off the shelf and a few shot glasses from beneath the bar, Thorne looked at John with a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. John arched an eyebrow.
“What?” he asked.
“You can’t have a 21st birthday without doing some tequila shots,” Thorne replied matter-of-factly. “Or without doing bodyshots!”
He shouted the last word and the crowd on the dance floor cheered loudly and started chanting “Body shot, body shot!” Ordinarily, John wouldn’t have given in so easily, but as he and Thorne down three normal tequila shots, his inhibitions lowered even more, as did Thorne’s. The bartender set more salt and lime slices onto the bar.
“Who’s going first?” she asked.
Thorne and John looked at each other. John grinned, the alcohol making him feel bolder. He shrugged off his leather jacket and laid it on a barstool, then peeled off his T-shirt, eliciting more cheers from the crowd. After he pulled the shirt over his head, John saw Thorne’s eyes had gotten wider and his mouth was slack as he stared at John’s naked chest. The Scottish man hopped onto the bar and laid out on his back. The bartender placed a line of salt up his belly, then handed him a slice of lime, which he took between his teeth.
Thorne stood frozen for a moment, staring at John draped across the bar with a heated look in his eyes. He blinked and seemed to snap out of it. He grabbed the new shot glass of tequila and downed it quickly, then looked at John again. His face looked flushed as he lowered his mouth to John’s belly, licking the salt up slowly. John’s pulse thrummed at the feel of Thorne’s tongue on his skin and his muscles jumped at the touch. Then he was looking into Thorne’s blue eyes, as the other man grabbed the lime wedge from his mouth, his teeth just grazing John’s bottom lip.
“My turn,” Thorne said once John sat up and slowly slid off the bar, feeling slightly unsteady on his feet.
He watched as Thorne took off his V-neck and laid it aside, then got up and lay down across the bar. Once more, the bartender poured another shot, then drew a line of salt up Thorne’s belly and placed a lime slice between his lips. John’s palms were suddenly sweaty and his mouth went dry. Thorne winked at him and motioned for him come closer. John took a deep breath and grabbed the shot glass and downed it easily enough. He hovered above Thorne’s stomach before he slowly licked up the line of salt. His hand rested on Thorne’s thigh, a few inches from his crotch, as he reached the other man’s face.
Thorne held the lime wedge between lips that were painted a pretty, pale pink. He blinked those come-hither blue eyes up at John’s brown ones. John took the lime between his teeth and sucked it into his mouth, his lips just barely grazing Thorne’s. Overhead, he heard a song playing.
“She’s gonna suck on my strawberry lipstick.”
John looked back down at Thorne and kissed him, pushing the lime slice into his mouth. Thorne moaned and kissed John back, cupping the back of his head. His lips tasted like strawberry and lime, so soft and so warm. Near his hand, John felt the crotch of Thorne’s jeans tighten as his cock stirred. John kissed Thorne harder and deeper, pulling him off the bar, then pinning him against it, sucking at his tongue.
“Take it outside, boys,” the bartender said, even as the crowd continued to cheer.
John pulled away and stared at Thorne. His eyes were wide and darkening, his lipstick smeared across. John could taste it on his own lips. Grabbing their shirts and jackets, both men rushed out of the club and outside into the cool air. Thorne pulled his shirt back on and John did the same, but when he noticed Thorne shivering, he draped his leather jacket over the other man.
“Thanks,” Thorne said.
“You’re welcome,” John replied.
Their eyes met and John pressed Thorne against the wall, kissing him again. Thorne groaned, both of his hands firmly squeezing John’s arse, their hips pressing together. John pulled away reluctantly.
“Wait,” he said. “We-we shouldn’t.”
“What?” Thorne asked. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re both drunk,” John replied. “And I-I..” He trailed off and bit his lip. “Thorne, I-I don’t want this to change things. We’re friends.”
“Just friends?” Thorne asked, stroking a hand down John’s arm. “I don’t need booze to know that what I feel for you and have been feeling for you is more than friendship, babe.”
John looked up, hardly daring to believe it. Thorne smiled at him. “Kiss me again, John.”
“Anything for the birthday boy,” John purred.
He kissed Thorne again, tasting his lipstick and squeezing his hips. Thorne moaned, cupping the back of John’s neck, sliding into his hair, the other still holding his arse. After a few minutes, they broke away again.
“Take me back to your place, John,” Thorne requested. “I don’t want this to end yet.”
John nodded and hailed a cab, then pulled Thorne into the backseat after telling the driver his address. They spent the ride making out in the back, Thorne almost in John’s lap. They only separated when the driver tapped on the glass. John paid the driver and rushed Thorne inside, kissing him the whole way up the stairs and into his flat. John kicked the door shut behind them.