Peter, who was hidden in his room with not only the door locked by a chair up and under the doorknob, was tucked up in his bed and blushing a brilliant crimson as he looked at this private part of Simon's life. ...He hadn't even known Simon had a tattoo there. He stared at the pictures of Simon, all muscles and slicked skin, looking like a god among mortals in those photos, but then the BDSM thing had almost killed him in sheer embarrassment to discover. Was- was that what Simon was doing every night? Going to do this stuff?
He put his laptop to the side eventually and groaned into his knees, his mind and body a raging sea of total confusion, total embarrassment, and total arousal. What was wrong with him that he was even looking this stuff up!? Surely Simon wanted this to remain a private world apart from his friends in the Twelve, right? Right? He didn't understand how someone who had the confidence to let pictures be taken like that, to participate in such things, could have the kind of low self-confidence he heard at the Starbucks.
How could he help? It wasn't easy to think when his body definitely had reacted to some of those pictures. Did Simon want to feel like the stuff he was doing was okay or... did he want out of it?
He lifted his head and looked to the screen. If he wanted to help, he had to learn, right? Peter bit his lip so hard it almost bled, trying to make a decision, before he swallowed. He could do this for a friend.
Twenty minutes and a shower later, Peter was slipping out the door, looking for a taxi to take him into the city. There was a pair of clubs he needed to find.
Which was all long before Judas and Simon had plans to meet up. Judas had himself ready on time, wondering for the tenth time where he had even ended up with the leather corset wrapped around him, with black jeans, boots, and a tee shirt under to match the lot. Makeup done, wallet tucked in his front pocket instead of the back for safety's sake, he almost looked like he belonged in a club. Really, the whole thing was just an excuse to go out, get a little drunk, and forget the weirdness that had been the previous 24 hours with JC.
no subject
He put his laptop to the side eventually and groaned into his knees, his mind and body a raging sea of total confusion, total embarrassment, and total arousal. What was wrong with him that he was even looking this stuff up!? Surely Simon wanted this to remain a private world apart from his friends in the Twelve, right? Right? He didn't understand how someone who had the confidence to let pictures be taken like that, to participate in such things, could have the kind of low self-confidence he heard at the Starbucks.
How could he help? It wasn't easy to think when his body definitely had reacted to some of those pictures. Did Simon want to feel like the stuff he was doing was okay or... did he want out of it?
He lifted his head and looked to the screen. If he wanted to help, he had to learn, right? Peter bit his lip so hard it almost bled, trying to make a decision, before he swallowed. He could do this for a friend.
Twenty minutes and a shower later, Peter was slipping out the door, looking for a taxi to take him into the city. There was a pair of clubs he needed to find.
Which was all long before Judas and Simon had plans to meet up. Judas had himself ready on time, wondering for the tenth time where he had even ended up with the leather corset wrapped around him, with black jeans, boots, and a tee shirt under to match the lot. Makeup done, wallet tucked in his front pocket instead of the back for safety's sake, he almost looked like he belonged in a club. Really, the whole thing was just an excuse to go out, get a little drunk, and forget the weirdness that had been the previous 24 hours with JC.