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If there’s one thing Charon dislikes, it’s parties. If there’s two things he dislikes, its parties where he isn’t allowed to sell anything. If there’s three distinct things he dislikes, it’s having to wear a tie while at a party where he isn’t allowed to sell anything.
There’s a reason he keeps everything loose around his neck. He’s got enough trouble breathing as it is with the smoking and the respiratory shit he got from the accident as a teen, and even if it’s mostly psychological, he’s still avoiding anything cutting off his air if he can help it. The smoking is stopping eventually; he’s already cut himself down to half of what he used to burn through, but that takes time and patience and avoiding neckties is a hell of a lot easier in his day to day life.
Of course, there’s a few exceptions and the annual formal charity dinner Nyx drags him to is one of them. Charon isn’t allowed to sell anything, but there are chances for business and schmoozing and orders to be taken from the wealthy elite who attend. And this year is a little different, Nyx having been certain Hermes should also tag along to make sure he’s seen ‘with the right sort of people’ or whatever optics game his mother is playing this time, which makes tonight's prospective event at least more manageable even if its still at the bottom of his list.
While going to the dinner/silent auction is good for Charon’s business in the long run, keeps him in public eye as a charitable person, and satisfies something for his mother, after two weeks getting prepared for the tourist season coming up, he’d pay double for his and Hermes’ plates if they didn’t have to show up. The allure of finally having a night free of getting the tour boat cleaned and moved over, updating pricing and informational boards for the year, completing long overdue renovations on the shop, and running said shop is one that cannot be understated. Before Hermes dropped into his life, Charon would have been more than resigned to while away his evening standing awkwardly next to Nyx as she introduces him to the next up-and-coming county treasurer or wanna be state representative.
But, now, Hermes is around, and has been around for two years, and Charon would much rather take him to dinner on their own time and spend the rest of the evening in the bed directly behind where Charon glares at himself in Hermes’ freestanding mirror as he grunts and undoes the knot of his tie for a third goddamn time.
It seems Hermes shares a similar sentiment when bare arms loop around his middle and a very warm body presses itself against his back. Looking over his shoulder as busy hands smooth over his stomach and play in the belt loops of his pants confirms that a freshly showered mailman has not in fact gotten dressed, a damp towel low on his hips as Hermes catches his eye with a cheeky smile. A stray lock of hair, wet from his wash, falls alluringly down over his forehead, and Charon has to tear his attention back to the damnable tie be he tosses the thing elsewhere.
“You don’t look ready.” Charon signs before finishing a satisfactory knot and swallowing back the discomfort the unfamiliar and unwelcome tightness it brings and the way it puts an irritating amount of pressure against the scarring. Thankfully, Hermes is an easy and giving distraction.
“Mm, think we should stay in tonight, actually. Now that I’m thinking about.” A palm is touching his chest, greedy yet gentle as Hermes takes in the definition there under the fitted shirt. “Got a few ideas with you all trussed up that need to be played out, in my humble opinion.”
Charon looks at his watch and mentally shrugs to himself. They’ve got a few minutes. He can indulge Hermes and his many thoughts a bit more.
“Such as?” Hermes hums and worms a thumb between the band of Charon’s pants as he thinks. He rubs his face between Charon's shoulders, sighing.
“Well, just got so many, you see. Honestly, any event that ends in you still in your getup and me naked on the bed seems good to me.”
Charon chuckles despite himself, grabbing the hand still on his chest so he can bring it to his mouth. He kisses warm knuckles, to which Hermes makes a happy little sound, no doubt believing he's getting his way.
“We can after.” Charon signs instead after he drops the wrist he'd been holding and Hermes tsks, rolling his eyes.
“Seems like a lot of effort when I’ve got you right here and now.” The palm at his waist gets bolder, openly running deft fingers over the front of his dress pants in a dirty little maneuver as Hermes pouts at him from the mirror. “Bit rude to be sharing yourself like this for anyone to see. Want to enjoy you and your suit all by myself, thank you very much.”
“You also going to enjoy explaining to Nyx why we didn’t show up?” Hermes' hand freezes before all the will drains from him and he groans into Charon’s back.
“No.” He admits finally, reluctantly as Charon pats his arm sympathetically.
Hermes slips away from Charon when he gently suggests he go get dressed, hanging his head as he pads back to the bathroom, defeated. Charon watches him go, tracing the line of his back to where the towel sits on his hips before he shakes his head clear, a little too warm for comfort and polite company.
He’d love nothing more than to grab a retreating, grumbling Hermes and go with whatever lurid imagination Hermes has decided on for the evening, but Charon instead grabs his jacket from the end of the bed. Between pulling the towel from Hermes’ waist or not having to deal with his mother’s passive aggressive disappointment, Charon will have to choose to wait on the intimacy just a bit more. He heads out of the bedroom, stopping by the tortoises’ spacious living box he helped build Hermes last fall to flick off her lamp for the evening before halting to wait by the front door, putting Hermes’ affections out of mind for the time being.
A few more hours won’t kill them.
Or so he’d hoped, one fatal miscalculation unaccounted for. One Charon cannot blame himself for forgetting considering his libido has its own schedule he’s never had any say in and his capacity to feel any sort of lust is an even more fickle and elusive thing. While Hermes is seemingly more in tune with both of those factors than him and has better luck getting Charon’s dick in the mood than Charon or anyone else ever has, he still forgets that in lieu of the rest of his lived experience.
Which is why when Hermes steps out of his bedroom in his fitted pants that hugs his thighs a little too well and an orange dress shirt seemingly molded to him as he holds his tie aloft, Charon realizes with a start he might be in more trouble than he initially thought.
“Dunno what’s wrong with me tonight. Can tie a tie just fine, been doing it for God knows how long.” Hermes whines, clearly annoyed enough that the skill eludes him as he stops in front of Charon expectantly. “Help?”
If Charon were smarter about these things, he’d assign malice to how Hermes fights a smirk when Charon dutifully starts to fix his neck garment. But he doesn’t, preoccupied in getting the tie in place and ignoring how smooth and inviting Hermes’ neck is where his fingers brush it. How, if he leans forward a bit, tight those pants are on Hermes’ ass. How, if he lets his thoughts drift, easily he could undo the knot he just made, put the thing around Hermes’ wrists instead, throw him on the couch just a few feet away, and forget the whole damn charity dinner in favor of making up for lost time.
But… Nyx is expecting them and having Hermes squirming under his mouth as he works down the zipper of his dress pants with his teeth now vs later isn’t worth the amount of apologizing he’d have to do because of it. So, with Hermes’ tie in order, Charon evades the kiss his partner clearly is gunning for as he pulls back, giving him a peck on the cheek instead. There’s another pout, but Charon ignores that too, opening the front door, and leading an oddly quiet Hermes to his awaiting car.
The charity event is just outside of Elysium at a dining hall with a wide field and a wonderful garden area generally used for weddings and other outdoor events. The festivities are indoors, and, as expected, it full of people in suits and lavish dresses and all clamoring to prove their status and claim something charitable on their taxes. The company is stiff and boring, but there's business to be had, Charon barely crossing the threshold a few minutes after Hermes before three separate people are already stuffing little lists of imports they'd enjoy having along with a few bills attached for an expedient delivery.
It's enough to make the event worth it as he carefully folds and pockets the paper and the money. Not enough to make the tie worth it. Or make it even close to matching up with what being back at Hermes' place and having it's lovely owner in Charon's lap is worth.
Nyx has already whisked the aforementioned Hermes away, keen on introducing him to a few local politicians, an activity Hermes is clearly adapted to better than Charon ever has been given how easily he engages with the people. Charon is fine with being alone for a bit as more church leaders and bored trussed up housewives seek him out to restock their shelves with expensive liquor. It's better the two of them aren't seen together more than necessary; Hermes is still delivering his beer every week and it would be an unfortunate scandal if the rumor mill around the county got wind there was anything more between them then acquaintances.
Eventually, the orders thin, and in the few minutes before the actual dinner is about to start, Charon is thankfully left alone to watch the people mill about the dozens of round tables covered in immaculate white cloth and decorated in name plates for the people who bought in for tonight. On the stage in the middle of the room, the jazz band plays something easy on the ears during this down time, and Charon enjoys it enough as he mentally takes stock of what he'll need to get his hands on for this round of demands. It's almost nice, pleasantly distracting as he keeps checking his watch for time to have hopefully sped itself up a bit to when he can gather Hermes to leave and his real evening can begin.
Of course, Hermes does not let him remain distracted by his watch and his work for long, tearing away from whatever pompous wannabe senator with an enviable ease.
There really is something to be said about when Hermes knows he has Charon’s attention. He catches Charon staring across the room, posture straightening as he returns Charon’s gaze half-lidded over the rim of whatever committee approved, low alcohol content champagne he has in his hand. He saunters over, confident and hips swaying, assured Charon is eagerly tracing every line and angle of him as he clears his throat and adjusts his tie.
Something even more to be said about how fast Hermes can get him from absolutely fine to hot under the collar.
“Having fun?” Hermes teases when he stops in front of Charon and it be would a lie if he claimed it was easy to not grab him by the waist just to remember the shape of him with his hands. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest in an effort to keep them still. “Keep getting whisked away to have the same conversations over and over though I supposed you're not having much of a better time of it, yeah?”
Charon nods, not wanting to say anything for fear of letting something damning slip to add to Hermes’ arsenal. With a grin, Hermes gives him a long appreciative once over, one he can practically feel as if it were tangible. There's mischief, clear and glittering in his dark eyes, but Charon is having trouble paying much attention to it with how deliberately Hermes wets his bottom lip, the little flash of his pink tongue offensive in how it makes Charon's mouth dry.
“Oh, here.” Hermes reaches up, smoothing out a wrinkle in Charon’s collar, the excuse to put himself as close as he can without actually touching Charon clear. If it was difficult not to touch him before, it certainly is now, the light scent of Hermes’ cologne heady in his nose and the barely there brush of his fingers on Charon’s skin making him shiver involuntarily.
There’s not many people around where they are, out of eyesight mostly. He could close the space between them, get a moment’s relief and fulfill the droning want to nibble on the attractive lobe of Hermes’ pierced ear just to hear the particular soft noise the man makes when Charon does so. No one would even see the momentary lapse, he would hope, and even if they did…
Hermes steps back, knowingly smug at Charon’s frown as he does so.
“What?” He says with a snicker. “You have the keys to the car, you know. Just say the word, and I’ll be out there fast I can.”
Unwilling to cross his arms just yet, Charon shakes his head solemnly. Hermes lets out a put upon sigh, tapping his foot and brow furrowed for a moment or two before his head perks up. A worryingly sly curl to his lips begins and Charon immediately puts himself on guard as Hermes clasps his hands behind his back.
"Or..." He steps closer once more, standing on his tiptoes to whisper, "Could meet in the restroom for a bit?"
The annoyed little grumble of 'you're no fun' when Charon pushes him away gives him a small thrill of victory at getting even the slightest upper hand.
It’s during the actual dinner that Charon realizes Hermes' game. And what a game it is.
The round table they’re sat at is full, mostly with elderly entrepreneurs and ex-politicians alongside he, Hermes, and Nyx. The jazz band playing vivaciously on stage, and Hermes is chatting loudly with the old sheriff who’s rather happy the current sheriff opted out of the event tonight. He laments that he has to pay for his drinks now that he’s retired, shooting Charon a humorous glare, but Charon could not be farther from the conversation.
He will say Hermes is quite good at multi-tasking when he has a goal in mind, eating middlingly enjoyable pasta with one hand and questioning the ex-sheriff and his white mustache all the while rubbing distracting patterns into Charon’s thigh under the white table cloth with his other hand. It’s commendable how he doesn’t falter a second given Charon has watched him burn soup after getting distracted by timing exactly how fast his tortoise will move depending on different motivating factors (turns out cantaloupe and Charon’s rings get her running faster than almost anything else). Charon wishes he would find some of that distraction now, nearly choking on a piece of tomato when the palm takes a bold step and squeezes with a purpose.
Hermes seems intent on remaining the picture of innocence, ignoring Charon’s side-eye even as his hand slides up Charon’s thigh, dangerously close to depravity. The ex-sheriff talks about his model trains, Hermes feigns the perfect amount of interest expected, and Charon's knee nearly hits the table when a pinky traces the line of his cock. He grabs that hand, taking it from his leg as covertly as possible and placing it in Hermes’ own lap.
“Careful.” He signs quickly, pointedly when the ex-sheriff’s attention is grabbed by a passerby. Hermes looks him over, brow raised.
“Do you want me to stop?” Charon can barely hear it over the murmur of the dozens of full tables and the lively saxophone solo. There's concern darkening his forehead, a frown sneaking into his mouth, clearly worried he'd gone over the line.
Saying yes would have the best outcome. They both get through the rest of the dinner, and perhaps the silent auction after without incident and Charon would be able to think of more than just how he can't wait to unwrap Hermes from those damnably well-fitted clothes. Even now, as Hermes waits anxiously for Charon's decision, it's difficult to not think about biting a mark into the unmarred line of Hermes' neck while he reacquaints himself with every inch of his partner he'd been missing for the past two weeks.
It'd be better if he could think beyond that before he makes a fool of himself and takes Hermes up on his offer of a rendezvous in the washroom, and telling the man to back off a bit would ensure he could do just that. Unfortunately, its rather uncommon to be this riled up, this wanting, and he'd be a liar if he said he wasn't enjoying the thrill of it all.
In answer, Charon drops his hand back under the tablecloth, mirroring Hermes’ previous position. It’s nowhere near as bold, just merely laying atop Hermes’ leg as he takes another bite of pesto slathered pasta, but Hermes beams at him all the same, relieved and no doubt emboldened. He spreads his knees, an open invitation as the ex-sheriff turns back to their conversation, one Charon is tempted to take, the idea of getting Hermes to falter in his detailing of his tortoise’s current living set up and care routine as a broad palm cups the front of his slacks an attractive but ultimately terrible idea.
Nyx’s expression when he catches it is already scathing enough.
During dessert, the organizer for the affair comes on stage, thanking the attendees for their concern over whatever this particular event is in sponsorship of. The people at their tables listen in polite attention as the rest of the evening's agenda is outlined and though Hermes seems to be one of those dutiful listeners, Charon is extremely aware he is not. Clearly, he's grown bored with the proceedings and the need to sit still while not speaking, his left knee bouncing under the table, his left thumb thumping against his spoon on the white tablecloth as he rests his chin in the other hand.
But then, the bouncing stops, Hermes fighting back some sort of expression as he lifts his head and sits back. He shifts oddly before clearly crossing his legs under the table and Charon watches this with a marked wariness from the corner of eye, the skin of his forehead pulling tight in his confusion before he stiffens as something touches his knee. Hermes catches him looking, blinking coquettishly as his shoe-free toe draws a line down Charon's shin.
"What?" He mouths, folding his hands innocently in his lap as his foot continues to drag along Charon's calf and Hermes returns his eyes and ears to the speaker making an incredibly forced joke in her long blue dress on the stage.
It can barely be constituted as a touch, barely there, carefully teasing, far and beyond what he was doing just five minutes ago. Despite this, it's still effective, Charon hyper-aware of everyone, including Nyx sitting on the other side of him, politely laughing along, just one dropped utensil away from seeing Hermes' foot retracing its path back up his to his knee. The thrill of that, of discovery along with the touch being less of a touch and more of dare, a suggestion for what they could be doing, has Charon's back straightening and his breath catching in his throat in a way that has nothing to do with the noose-like tie at his throat.
He smoothly reaches down under the table again, grabbing Hermes' foot as his toe worms itself under Charon's knee. Gripping Hermes' ankle, Charon makes sure he's being seen as he quickly spells out 'behave' with the other hand behind his long abandoned cheesecake. The shock of being stopped so suddenly fades on Hermes' boyish face, replaced with a competitive and daring spark in his eye as a familiar smirk curls the one side of his mouth.
"Make me." Hermes signs from his lap, hidden by the table.
His foot moves again, despite Charon's continue grip on it, the ball of which rubs with a purpose against the outside of Charon's calf. That singular curl of hair has fallen back over his forehead, cheeks a bit pink from whatever is clearly going on in his head that he tilts to the side to show off the long line of his neck. If they were anywhere else, if Charon had any less sense of self-preservation, he'd already have buried his face against it, marking it once more with his mouth and his teeth until Hermes is putty against him.
Charon lets out a huff, breaking Hermes' daring gaze and pushing his foot away once more. He leaves it, though only after he lets his thumb run a hard line up and down the arch of Hermes' foot, satisfied when the flush in the man's cheek deepens and he has to visibly swallow back a noise. Charon fixes a wrinkle in his sleeve before setting his wrist back on the table, ignore the scathing glare coming from Nyx to the other side of him as he focuses back on the speaker.
For the rest of dessert and coffee, Hermes is seemingly behaved, fiddling with his spoon again, and staring blindly off into the dining hall, frowning as he does so. For all of the tease he's been, Charon still feels for him, thoughts constantly drifting to being back home and his own sordid ideas on exactly he'd like show Hermes his opinions on the evening, preferably with both of the damnable ties and Hermes' bedposts. So when a pinky lightly brushes his wrist, Charon leaves it, wanting to take the questing hand and press his lips to the back of it in assurance Hermes isn't alone in his misery but instead leaving him to his more manageable display of affection.
The touch gets more emboldened as the dining portion of the evening breaks and people move away from their seats to chat with their neighbors and whisper angrily at how irritating the speaker was tonight. All of their dining partners get called elsewhere, even Nyx moving away to speak with the table next door, leaving just Hermes and Charon alone once more. With that being the case, Hermes shifts closer in his chair, enough that their thighs are all but pressed together and there's two fingers tracing patterns on the inside of his wrist.
"What's with you tonight?" Charon asks, the touch to his palm and the bit of his arm exposed from his jacket pulled up immediately back when he sets it once more onto the tablecloth.
"Bored." Hermes states, enraptured by the way his own fingers are moving along Charon's wrist. "Very tired of being here. Um... forgot how much I don't like these kinds of things. Would much rather be anywhere else. Oh, and I miss you." He ends with canting his head up to peer as Charon from under his long eyelashes.
"I miss you too." There's no one even remotely interested in them as far as Charon can tell, and he turns his hand over so Hermes can continue his small affections.
“We can leave anytime you want.” Hermes reminds him, whispering as he leans in closer. The fingers have taken the bold move to pinch on of the rings at the base of Charon's middle finger, rolling it between each other, making him shiver. “Get in the car. Do anything else but be here.”
Charon watches Hermes play with his rings, now taking another on his index and sliding it up and down the digit. He acts like he’s thinking on the suggestion, needing to take his hand away to talk, but he finds he can’t really be bothered for the deliberate glide of skin warm metal along his finger. Hermes takes notice, biting his lip and lowing his voice further.
“Been thinking about you all night,” Hermes pushes the ring back in place, continuing the previous motion with just his fingers, gently gripping the side of Charon's and rubbing it between them. “And in my humble opinion, it’s very cruel you’re making me wait so long.”
“More fun that way.” Charon signs, having to spell most of it as he'll be damned if he's having Hermes stop.
“It’s already been two weeks though…” He flutters his lashes, a motion trying to be seductive but Charon snickers, finally pulling his hand away.
“Another hour won’t hurt you.”
At that, Hermes groans, letting his whole upper half nearly fall backwards out of his seat.
“I dunno. It might!” He exclaims, straightening, ruffling his own hair. “Not getting the most amount of blood to my brain right now.” Charon puts his knuckles over his mouth, chuckling as Hermes sits back, offended. “Probably some kind of long term effect if it goes on too long.”
“Lot of doctors around.” Charon points out, shoulders still shaking in his laughter. “You could ask one of them for help.”
The eye roll he gets is as delightful as the man doing it.
“Oh yeah, sure. Absolutely boss. Just waltz over and-" He mocks sticking his hand out for a shake, "‘Hey, hi, sorry to bother you but you wouldn’t happen to have a cure for my boyfriend stringing me along all evening?’. Sure that’ll get me quite far.”
There’s a pout to his lips but humor in his eyes, and it is striking how the sight makes his chest feel full. Tonight could've been so much more boring and a waste of his limited free time, but even in Hermes' disregarding enthusiasm, he's given it life and a reason to be remember by just being there and allowing Charon the pleasure of being around him. They could be anywhere, doing anything, but as long as Hermes is with him, it'll be worth it in the end.
And that is simply a fact of life ever since Hermes agreed to be a part of it, one that still puts a flutter in Charon's stomach when he thinks about it.
Hermes asks him what he's thinking about as Charon surveys him, openly, affectionately, a dreamy sort of expression no doubt on his face. The frown on Hermes' mouth softens when Charon signs a quick 'I love you behind his half empty coffee mug, having to fight a small smile and look away as if he hasn't already seen Charon say just that a thousand times already. As if he wasn't the first one to say a year and a half ago.
“We can probably get out of the auction.” Charon tells him after Hermes shyly mumbles his own affirmation, a possibility Hermes' immediately perks up at.
“Yes, I believe you can.”
To say he flinches when Nyx’s hand comes down on his shoulder is an accurate assessment, all things considered. Hermes on the other hand nearly falls out his chair. Charon doesn't bother to say anything, glancing to the side of him where Nyx towers over him in his chair, the black fabric of her new and costly dress all but rippling in her ire.
She’s glaring down at them in her own Nyxian way, one easily missed by most but one Charon is well-attuned to. It’s difficult for him to ignore the minute thinning to her lips and the shadow of a wrinkle in her brow, having seen the particular expression thrown at many of her peers’ backs during these kinds of events. Perhaps it is how very few times he personally has been the target of her carefully crafted disdain, but Charon cannot help but feel like he's a child tracking mud all over his supposed sister's room again.
“Hey, Nyx-” Hermes greets, shrinking down in his seat, voice higher than it just had been.
“You rarely find anything to your liking at these auctions, my child,” Nyx states, tone dangerously even, ignoring Hermes and keeping her firm grip on Charon’s shoulder. The shining manicured nails dig uncomfortably into the muscle, even through the suit jacket. “And the attendance is fortunately made mostly of the old guard; not as many fresh-faces for me to introduce either of you too. I’d be remiss to keep you from each other’s company for longer than necessary.”
Charon generally has to wonder if people can understand the subtle minutiae in how Nyx speaks and expresses her opinions, but with Hermes, he doesn’t have to. Next to him as Nyx’s grip finally lessens, Hermes has made himself as small as possible in his chair, ears a touch pink as his hands fidget over each other in his lap.
“You sure…?” He asks, itching behind his ear. Nyx gives him a long scathing look that Charon had been certain, when he was younger, could burst a man into flames. She takes in a deep measured breath before responding, and its Charon's turn to sink into his seat.
“Given your actions for the entirety of the evening thus far, I have little doubt you two are incapable of causing some sort of incident were I to foolishly keep you any longer. And, given the time of year, I without the time to spare on smoothing over a scandal because my own son and his unfortunately preferred company can’t seem to keep their hands off of each other.”
Satisfied that her targets are sufficiently admonished, the mask cracks on her carefully put together features, and she clasps her hands over her abdomen once more.
“Now, please enjoy the rest of your evening elsewhere, drive safe, and, Charon, I expect you on Wednesday for our luncheon.” There’s no usual goodbye kiss on the cheek, but considering she didn’t cancel their semi-monthly plans, Charon relaxes a bit as she leaves them, heels clicking on the hardwood floor.
Next to him, Hermes is still shriveled in his chair, a thousand yard stare out over the dining hall. The smack to Charon's arm is worth the laugh at the state of him.
Hermes’ shoulders bump his as they walk out into the parking lot, the shame of Nyx’s scolding having warn off as privacy is in sight. There’s a few people smoking out in the open air, so Charon ignores the itch to put his arm around Hermes, focusing on just getting them to the car even as he keeps catching Hermes eyeing him. There’s still a near half hour drive to get home, but that time seems minuscule as every little brush of Hermes’ fingers against his makes something spark electric in him.
He expects Hermes to be touchy on the way back, suspicious as Hermes is quiet as they buckle in after tossing their jackets in the backseat. It's a wariness that only grows as his inaction continues while they pull out onto the highway. For a few minutes, Charon is granted the silence and lack of distraction needed to settle into the long stretch of familiar road and, in that time, he is able to delude himself that Hermes is being uncharacteristically patient.
That is, of course, until the hand is back on his thigh.
“It’s, what, twenty-five minutes left, yeah?” Hermes asks innocently, right knee bouncing again. The flush in his ears is back, a ruddier color this time as headlights from a passing car illuminate the way he bites his lip. He’s got some kind of idea cooking up, the hand on Charon’s thigh squeezing as he nods and Hermes sits up. “Mmm, seems like a long time. Dunno if I have the patience for that, if I'm being honest. Maybe we should pull over.”
Charon doesn’t answer, keeps his left hand on the steering wheel and his right on the gear stick. His eyes are on the road, but that proves difficult when Hermes hums in thought and sits up, the shift of his clothes on the fabric of the bucket seat deafening over the rumble of the car. There’s lips on his cheek, something chaste and innocent, testing the boundaries Charon will set.
Or he would set, if he felt like it. If the curiosity wasn't gnawing at him.
There are not a lot of cars out tonight, it being Thursday and a few hours past the height of traffic on this highway. A blessing given Hermes is slowly trailing his mouth from Charon’s cheek to the line of his jaw, unhurried with the drag of his lips and the seatbelt hisses after the click of him unbuckling it. He drifts across the console, pressing his side to Charon’s as he kisses the juncture of his jaw, behind his ear, to the top of his throat, letting his palm move with a purpose to the inside of Charon’s thigh.
He is intent on ignoring Hermes, clearing his throat and shivering involuntarily as the fading scent of Hermes' cologne fills his nose. The hand on his thigh abandons it for a moment, instead coming up to loosen his tie, Hermes' fingers determined and yet lethargic as they pull out the knot, freeing his throat. He hooks a digit into the front of Charon's collar, leaving the tie to hang freely.
"Can't tell me you aren't thinking about it." Another kiss, open mouth and sweet, is pressed to the apple in his neck, the ghost of a delighted smile on those lips when Charon swallows. Deft fingers pop the top button on his dress shirt, that horrendously dangerous mouth quick to cover what new scarred skin is available to it. "Pulling over, picking me up."
Another button. Charon backs off the gas, going a several miles over the speed limit. It's lucky he hasn't seen a deer. Even luckier he can still remember to look for them.
"Take me to the back. Get my trousers down enough to get your cock in me."
Another button, fingers worming their way under the undershirt to tease along his chest. Charon clears his throat again, earning a slow kiss back behind his ear. A car passes, headlights blinding. Whether they see what's happening inside or not, Charon can't bring himself to care.
"Be really quick. Hard as you like. Might finish before you bottom out."
The hand on his chest abandons it, returning to Charon's thigh, giving it final squeeze. He moves it again, this time to the back of Charon's hand on the gear stick as he kisses Charon's shoulder. The brush of his hair against Charon's skin is maddening, inviting, and he wants to grip it, pull Hermes' head back to hear him gasp.
Charon has to back off the gas again, nearly fifteen over.
"Take me home after. Do it again when your good and ready."
Hermes grabs his hand, prying it from it's rest and placing it between Hermes' own legs, letting out a whine that has Charon shifting uncomfortably when he gently cups Hermes’ groin. He’s already half-hard, pressing down onto Charon’s hand with his own as he grinds up, sighing.
“Don’t think I can wait much longer, Charon.” He’s pressing his mouth to Charon’s neck again wetly. “Want you.”
Charon is relatively proud of his resolve. He’s got a reputation for being stubborn and stalwart and he’s excessively good at taking a stance or making a decision and not budging from that. It should be easy to remove his hand from where Hermes is currently rocking against it, tell Hermes off for being impatient and not letting him concentrate on driving, and get them back home without further incident.
But Hermes is flushed and wanting next to him, languidly rutting against Charon’s palm as if he’s just a few moments from pulling out his cock and continuing on. His free arm is hooked around the back of his seat to give him leverage, head now resting on Charon’s shoulder and Charon would be damned if he didn’t want to turn his head and take in the picture he’s making. There’s a backroad coming up, one not even labeled or paved in more than dusty gravel, and Hermes presses his face into Charon’s neck again as he lets out a shaking whimper when long fingers follow the motions of his hips.
It’s understandable why Charon takes the sharp turn onto that empty road, not bothering with the turn signal, and putting in park just a few yards in.
Hermes freezes, shocked as Charon pulls away to fumble with his seatbelt with one hand while the other pops open his door. The late spring night is cool and relieving in comparison to the over-heated interior of the car, and Hermes opens his mouth to say something, but Charon doesn’t let him, grabbing the back his head to pull him into a kiss the second the seatbelt is good and out of the way.
“Backseat. Now.” Charon signs as he lets Hermes go, barely missing knocking his head on the frame as he steps out of the car.
“Wha- wait, it worked?” The passenger side door flings open as Charon settles in the back, Hermes joining him not a second later, triumphant even in his disbelief.
He barely gets the door shut before Charon is hauling his into his lap, letting his legs stretch out over the backseat as much as he can so Hermes can straddle his thighs. He'll have a crick in some part of his shoulder for how he has to fold himself to be comfortable, but Charon's having a hard time worrying about it, mouth finally on Hermes' neck and hands palming the ass he'd been eyeing all evening. Hermes laughs, high and breathy as his fingers lace into Charon's hair to keep him where he's currently sucking a mark into his throat.
Hermes' hands are already on the fastenings to his own dress slacks, fumbling when Charon impatiently rubs his fingers between his cheeks, hips stuttering at the action. He doesn't help Hermes' frantic struggle with his zipper, preoccupied in Hermes' shirt buttons. There's no undershirt, much to Charon's delight and he pushes the fine fabric out of the way just enough to drag his teeth against a peaking nipple as he presses Hermes' hips down to grind up against.
"You're making this very difficult, Charon." Hermes chastises with a breathy giggle, finally getting his slacks open and having to shove Charon from his chest as he struggles to get his pants off, nearly knocking his head on the roof of the car as he does so.
"No underwear?" Charon asks, taken aback as he helps Hermes free of the offending garment. His cocks bobs eagerly as he settles back over Charon's hips, fishing around the pocket of his pants for something.
"I was... I'll admit, a little hopeful for this- there you are!"
He tosses the slacks, smug, and a little bottle of lube is pressed into Charon's hand. Charon blinks at it, knowing he'd be feeling more played if his own cock wasn't straining against the fly of his pants. With a huff, he looks back at Hermes and waits expectantly, palm still held out for the condom.
"Can't we-"
"Not cleaning semen out of my car seats." Hermes bows his head in surrender, reaching down to fish the packet from his pocket and slapping it in Charon's hand.
"Fine," He grumbles as Charon squirts some lube on his fingers before placing the tube on the floor. "But I would've paid for, done it myself even if y..."
Whatever he was going to claim is lost as Charon presses a finger into him, and then another, just enough to get him slick, his usual patience not even pretending to make an appearance tonight. Hermes' toes curl against his leg, knees squeezing Charon's sides as he rocks back against the intrusion for just a moment before working on the front of Charon's slacks eagerly. It near about the fastest Charon's ever let them move along, and before he can think to slow down, Hermes has lined up the head of Charon's cock, whimpering as he lowers himself.
Hermes sinks down upon him fully, hands on Charon's chest to steady himself as he shudders in what could only be described as relief. His eyes are closed, concentrating, worrying his lip as he shifts his hips under Charon's grip, letting out a little 'ha' when Charon bucks impatiently despite himself. He likes letting Hermes go at his own pace like this, let him get used to the stretch and the length of him, but with Hermes like a vicegrip around him, his hard cock already dripping fat little beads of precome onto Charon's shirt, and everything that came before now...
"God, I missed you." He sounds strangled by it, bending himself forward to take Charon's mouth in a desperate kiss as he lifts himself to begin fucking himself in earnest.
It’s a typical Thursday night along the highway between Elysium and the multiple beach towns connected therein. Nothing interesting to report outside of deer watching from the tall grass and the errant impatient individual going a few miles over the clearly and abundantly flagged speed limit. Never enough to warrant Theseus bother to stop them, but enough to be annoying that it would not hold up in court if he did.
The radio is similarly uninteresting, only a few reports of petty thievery and one domestic dispute on the east side of Elysium that had been answered long ago. It leaves the good sheriff driving listlessly, contemplating matters yet still wholly out of his control and wondering if he should return to the station and finish up his paperwork before calling it a night. This presents its own issue as he left his office specifically to not give more uncharacteristically anxious thoughts to situations out of his control and to keep idle hands from calling up the Hearing Examiner to once again to throw his weight behind the correct decision when it comes to the good man Asterius' upcoming parole determination.
A distraction for the evening would be nice as every errant thought about Asterius spending another night in prison because of his own missteps wracks him with guilt. And guilt is an emotion Theseus does not subscribe to. He hates it so it is highly unfortunate that the county's many actual criminals are intent on staying home this fine cool spring evening.
How incredibly selfish of them.
Thankfully, the shine from his headlights off the back of a car parked and dark just a few yards down a back gravel road catches his eye. Theseus frowns at it, certain it hadn't been there when he passed by here an hour ago. It's a bit uncommon for people to leave their vehicles just abandoned willy nilly in the middle of nowhere, and with a burgeoning sense of duty, Theseus makes a quick u-turn on the empty highway.
Might as well make sure there's no trouble, after all. Make sure no one has a flat or anything. If he see's one, he'll continue on to Styx Beach until he sees some pour soul wandering the highway looking for help, and if all is well, then he'll have ticket to give and possibly come back tomorrow to have it towed if it's still there. No need for some late night fisherman or hunter to leave their Lincoln in the middle of perfectly usable roadway.
They could be blocking traffic for a farmer if left till morning, after all. Absolutely deplorable behavior. Completely unacceptable. Unless...
It seems like the wrong time of the week and evening for it to be some teens to have pulled off the road for some private necking. Tomorrow is a school day after all, but the idea still occurs to Theseus as he comes upon the turn again. It is still a matter of possibility, and it is kind of funny sneaking up on kids who think they can get away with being out after curfew so, as he crosses the nonexistent traffic with a smug sort of smile at the prospect of lecturing some amorous teens on the principle of getting a good night's rest and the importance of school over a romantic rendezvous, Theseus flicks off his headlights.
Even in the dark, it's clear there is motion to the car, windows fogged up, thus not abandoned as previously assumed, but there's something else that catches Theseus' attention as he parks to the side of the vehicle. He knows this car, the letters and numbers of the license plate burned into his memory that he can and has repeated off the cuff on several occasions. The smile falls off into disgust as he switches off the engine and a dreadfully addictive indignation overtakes his initial curiosity.
He quietly pops open the driver side door, pulling out a flashlight as he adjusts his uniform and stands out of the car. What is the duplicitous bootlegger doing parked on a back road on a Thursday? He can't be...being intimate with someone, can he? Theseus has never known the imposing criminal to be anything but cold and unyielding, even when someone as viable and undeniably attractive as, entirely for example, Theseus has made themselves available to him. It is difficult to imagine someone as dastardly cunning and compellingly secretive as Charon to be openly and publicly having sex with someone on some dusty back road.
And Theseus should know, as he has imagined such a scenario several times. Completely for speculative and investigative purposes, of course. He is a professional, after all.
No, it must be something else as Theseus quietly tiptoes his way over so as to not alert whoever is still distracted in the backseat of the vehicle. Perhaps it's been stolen. Yes, that is a more likely explanation, just as likely as the burning in his gut having nothing to do with any kind of jealousy whatsoever. Perish the thought as he flicks on the flashlight.
Besides, who would Charon of all people deign worthy of his much sought after attention? The man is so rarely with anyone, rumored or otherwise and his scheming captivating eyes seem to drift to no one in his carefully structured and limited social sphere. The matron of the diner is still married to her bohemian husband. His lackey is a disgusting creature Theseus would not spare a thought. Most of his time not committing 'alleged' crimes is dedicated to his family.
That leaves only one other persons recently rumored to be unfortunately affiliated with the hardened yet enticing merchant, but given his family name and who his uncle is, surely he'd know better...
There's certainly muffled sounds of an illicit nature coming from the cab of the car as Theseus lifts the flashlight to peer into the backseat. A flashlight Theseus nearly drops as beyond the fogged glass, he can clearly make out a stunned and extremely flushed Hermes squinting at him from astride the massive and elusive Charon. Theseus had never had any want to see the mailman's penis at any level of aroused, but he unfortunately does as Hermes hurriedly tries to cover up that and where Charon is still very much in him.
Theseus may need to make an appointment with his physician regarding how hard his blood pressure spikes when in response to knocking on the window and demanding they make themselves decent before vacating the vehicle, a very long ringed finger flips him the bird before Charon pulls a babbling Hermes off of him.
"I'm sorry."
It's the first thing Hermes can bring himself to say as the sheriff finally stops tailing them when they hit the turn for Styx Beach. Charon similarly has been silent, having ripped the ticket from Theseus' hand in the middle of his extremely verbose and very angry rant regarding publicly decency before Hermes was ushered back into the car so they could drive home. He's never seen Charon that angry; not after all the shit he did when he first moved here, not in any of the time between.
Even now, twenty minutes later and nearly to Hermes' place, Charon is still clearly mad; his lips thin, jaw tight, the knuckles on the steering wheel white, the gear stick getting shifted a little too hard to be considered necessary. As Hermes apologizes quietly, stomach curdling with guilt, the grip on the wheel lessens, Charon glancing at Hermes for the first time since they started driving again. The passing streetlight illuminates a softer expression, still irate, but one that seems almost deflated as he sees Hermes picking at a stray piece of fabric on his seat.
"Why are you sorry?" Its signed earnestly, absent of the harshness Hermes expected. He shrugs as they turn into his driveway, the spider that likes to nest in the corner of his garage door scurrying away from the light.
"Shouldn't've pushed you so much. I got it in my head that if I could get you to fuck me before we got home which, fair be it, you stuck out a really long time but I was being stupid and didn't want to wait when we got in the car and we could've been back like an hour ago and on round two by now but-" To his surprise, Charon huffs in a laugh, shaking his head. "What?"
"I let you do it. I agreed to it." He points out, reaching over to place a hand over where Hermes had unconsciously started picking at his thumb. "I'm not mad at you."
"Yeah, but you have to be a little bit? Could've gotten us arrested or something and now the sheriff knows we're... together or whatever and he might tell everyone and then who's going to deliver your beer every week? Considering how red he was, there's not a chance in hell he won't think I'm in on it and-" Hermes snaps his mouth shut, letting out a breath and letting his head his the head rest before catching Charon gazing at him. "You can't tell me you're not a little mad at me."
Charon chuckles, squeezes his hand before leaning over to give him a quick peck to the corner of his mouth.
"Maybe a little." He admits as he takes his hand back. "More angry at everything else."
"Will you tell me about it?" Hermes asks, knowing if he doesn't, Charon will clam up and pretend its all fine. Its better to get him to talk to get him out of a funk quicker, Hermes has found. To his surprise, Charon agrees without much fight, turning off the car and taking them inside.
While he knows he isn't getting a round two like he wanted before they got interrupted, spending the evening on the couch with Charon's head in his lap while Hermes runs his fingers through his soft hair and they talk through potential next steps isn't anything to raise his nose at. Nor is the way Charon signs a tired 'I love you' as Hermes details the ways he's going to apologize as they fall asleep later in bed. Nor is the genuine soft smile he always has when Hermes returns it.
Nor is the quietly delighted expression Charon gives him when Hermes hands him an apology muffin from the cafe every morning for a week straight along with his mail.