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Enjoy the Moment	By : Arumeicourt Category: +G through L > Heavy Rain Views: 2070 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Heavy Rain, and am not affiliated with Quantic Dream, or Sony. I do not own Norman Jayden, Carter Blake, or any offical characters contained within. I earn no money from this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Author's Note: Well, this Labor Day Weekend was spent watching Firefly, playing Dark Cloud, and writing porn. At one point, all three were happening at once (which is much harder than it sounds, I assure you). Overall, I'd write it off as a success ;)
By the way, for anyone interested, I've posted a few short Blayden drabbles on my livejournal. The username is muffomaniac (Don't judge, Dexter's Lab was a great show), and it should show up if you search it since I made the entry public. I think.

The absence of heat and weight on the mattress told Norman without opening his eyes that he was alone in his bed. It wasn't unusual for Carter to be up quite a bit earlier than him – the sudden stoppage of ARI use allowed for his mind to completely rest for a change, resulting in him sleeping like a newborn baby as of late. Occasionally he'd wake up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat from withdrawals, but those occurrences were becoming less and less frequent with time. And thankfully, they had never occurred whilst sharing a bed with the police lieutenant.
Norman winced when he saw his bedside clock flashing that it was already mid-morning. He really didn't make a habit of this, and he hated that he was undoubtedly giving Blake that impression. Normally, he was the early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of guy; it was something his job required, for starters, but even on his days off he never slept past 8. Until Blake came around – just being around the cop made him lazier.
Still, if he laid around any longer, Carter would probably drag his ass out of bed by force. Norman didn't particularly like the sound of that idea; so despite how lovely of an idea rolling over and going back to sleep sounded, he forced himself off the mattress with a groan, stretching out his neck and back. As the latter audibly cracked, he absently thanked God that triptocaine didn't store itself in spinal fluid. He was incredibly pleased with his progress on the drug so far, having been clean for almost three months; it'd be an unfortunate setback.
He had just begun brushing his teeth when a faint, though familiar sound echoed from his living room. For a moment, he stopped the brushing in order to better make out the noise – it sounded like…A Mario game. With a snort he turned on the faucet, drowning out the cheery music; Blake must have found the rather sizable box of video games behind his TV.
When Norman had first started weaning himself off ARI, he had used every legal way he could think of to battle the urges to escape into the device – at times, it was even harder than fighting his triptocaine addiction. One of the methods he had found to be at least semi-effective were video games. Though nowhere near on an ARI scale, it did succeed in allowing him to immerse himself in an alternative reality for long periods of time, without the rather unfortunate side effect of bleeding from both eyes. However, he had eventually realized wasting away playing games after work wasn't exactly the most productive or healthy use of his time either. Norman had long since admitted that he had an addictive personality – when he found something he enjoyed, he immersed himself into it with almost mad devotion. His very job was an example of this, if the drug and ARI abuse wasn't enough. As of late, however, he had found a new "hobby"; exercise.
The endorphin release after a long run, while not as powerful as drugs, was nonetheless an addicting rush of chemicals in his body that left him both relaxed and sated. He found himself increasing the time and distance every time, in order to achieve the same intensity of the runner's high. It was almost comical, how similar it was to his drug addiction – and he rather doubted his knees would appreciate the long distance, high intensity runs in the future. Still, it was without a doubt the healthiest addiction he had found to date.
Maybe I should vary the work outs more…Start lifting…Yeah, and then I'd be able to kick that old man's ass.
The very thought made him chuckle after spitting the toothpaste into the sink – Blake of all people, losing to him in a fight. Forget the physical dependencies – that sort of satisfaction was far more motivating. To see the ego driven maniac completely humbled would be the best moment of his life, without a doubt. He had caught glimpses of such behavior the other night – but just that. Glimpses. There had to be some way to dish out a piece of humble pie to the bastard; give him a taste of his own medicine for a change. He just had to find it.
There's gotta be a way to break that son of a bitch…Maybe if I asked, he'd spot me?...Nah, he'd probably let the weights fall on me.
In spite of the rather painful thought, a small smile tugged at his lips as he began to wash his face. No doubt, Carter probably lifted in his free time. There was simply no way he could throw people around like rag dolls without even getting winded otherwise. Norman made a mental note to ask him later; sparring with him had been surprisingly fun, so he didn't doubt that exercising could potentially be a nice way of passing time together. Especially since he was considerably younger – it'd be another opportunity for him to beat the man at something.
I'm not sure I'd actually win though…That asshole has stamina, if sex is any indicator…Heat rushed to his face at the realization that they already did exercise with one another, in a technical sense. He splashed cold water into his face as if to drown the thought before grabbing his towel and rubbing his face a little too vigorously. Great. Being around Blake just wasn't making him lazier; it was turning him into a fucking sex maniac. He just hoped he was having similar effects on the violent police lieutenant. God knows Carter could use some of his habits rubbing off on him.
Norman amused himself at the thought of a mellower, soft-spoken Blake calmly asking a suspected criminal about his alibi as he left his bathroom, putting on a clean pair of briefs before slipping on a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He had long since given up on getting Blake to abandon his brutal tactics, not that he'd ever admit to it – at times he felt bad for the residents of Philadelphia, but there were some old dogs that simply refused to learn new tricks. And in Blake's case, said dog would tear the throat out of anyone who tried.
Upon entering his living room, Norman found that his earlier musings were correct. He stood silently in the doorway as he took in the highly amusing sight of Lieutenant Carter Blake biting his lower lip in frustration as he continuously tried and failed to make a wall jump in Mario 64. Each failure and subsequent loss of health as Mario plummeted back onto the ground below made his grin widen until he was unable to stifle a small laugh. Carter paused the game and turned to throw him an irritable glance before turning around to restart.
"Something funny, asshole?"
You mean oth'ah than the fact that there's a 40-somethin' year old man on my couch playing Nintendo?
"No need'tah be embarrassed, Blake…This stuff's just before your time, is all," Norman teased as he strolled towards his couch and rested his arms on its back.
Carter snorted before replying, tilting his head back lazily to meet his eyes. "What, and it isn't for you?"
Norman smirked slightly before shaking his head. "This," he paused, gesturing towards the TV screen, "came out when I was a teenager, Cartah." The mocking smirk only grew as he did the mathematical calculation again in his head, this time with Carter's birth year; he'd have been in his late 20s. He decided he'd keep that piece of information to himself.
"…Doesn't explain why you still have it," he countered, changing the direction of his argument.
"I'm not the one playin' it," Norman replied just as quickly. To his surprise, Carter actually laughed a little at that.
"I had to do something while I waited for your ass to wake up," he responded easily. "Why do you still have all this shit, anyway?"
Norman paused thoughtfully, searching for the best answer. As usual when the man lightly touched upon topics closely related with ARI or Triptocaine, he went with the response that was at least partially truthful. It made him feel a little less guilty about lying to someone he was beginning to legitimately trust – plus, it was so much easier to remember his lies that way. "I brought it all outta storage for Shaun…Was gonna give it to 'em next time we saw each other." That was actually almost completely true; once he made the decision to stop playing games as well, he figured he'd put his considerable collection to good use as a wedding present of sorts to Shaun.
"Why, so he can become a reclusive little shit like you?"
"Reclusive?" Norman repeated incredulously. He had been on the receiving end of a series of different insults by the cop, but reclusive was a first.
"Yeah- you spent more time in that damn office than anywhere else. Never mind how swimmingly you got along with everyone in the precinct…" Carter trailed off, leaning back into the couch in a relaxed sort of way that demonstrated he was confident he was in the right.
"Oh, right, I for'ghat how warmly you all received me. 'Can't imagine why I didn't want'tah interact with all of you."
"Isn't it your job to see things through other people's perspectives? Because to me, you looked an awful lot like a cocky bastard fresh out of college, comin' in and telling me how to do my job. Then, after two wild goose chases, you let our prime suspect go before sneaking off and actually finding the Origami Killer…without telling anyone else about your little revelation." His tone only carried minimal traces of anger – they'd already had this argument what must have been a thousand times to date. However, one little part of his rant was new.
"Let your prime suspect go?" Norman reiterated, wincing slightly as the words came out too quickly to avoid appearing suspicion.
Carter caught on to his tense demeanor with a smug grin, his teeth flashing white as he shot Norman a side glance that spoke volumes. "What, you're not going to admit that shit? The case has been over for months, Norm."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he stated firmly.
"I'm talking about how Mars just vanished after you took over guarding him when Gary went on a piss break. And how the camera was just conveniently off the entire time you took over."
"Not ringing 'eneh bells."
With a small laugh, Carter leaned back into the couch once more, the display of calm indifference dominating his demeanor again. He gave him another lazy look up and down, undoubtedly noticing how stiffly he was standing. "If everyone was as easy to read as you, you'd be out of the job, Norman."
Norman honestly didn't know how to respond to that. It was true that the other man had the uncanny ability to pick up on what he was thinking; with the exception of his addiction problems, of course. Though he didn't doubt the cop suspected he was hiding something – he just never pursued the subject, to his gratitude.
Instead of meeting the know-it-all asshole's eyes, his gaze flicked instead onto the coffee table in front of the couch. His phone was still lying there abandoned from last night. To his surprise, the missed call icon was flashing.
"Oh, yeah…Someone tried to call you earlier. Pennsylvania area code, too. I didn't recognize the number, so…" he let the statement trail off with a nonchalant shrug. Grumbling slightly, Norman leaned forward to pick it up – Carter could have still answered it and taken a message – though once he spotted the number, he was immensely grateful he hadn't done so. It was Madison's.
"Aaaah, fuck…" Norman groaned slightly, only now recalling he was supposed to call the journalist last night. It was late enough in the morning for a response to be likely, however. Norman tapped the call button twice on her missed call, bringing the phone up to his ear. After the first ring, he went on to answer Carter's unspoken question. "Madison…Madison Paige, remember? The journalist Ethan was dating…"
"Was?" Carter caught.
"Oh…they're uh…getting married next month. Did I not mention that?" It was going on past the fourth ring now – Norman winced, already imagining the ass chewing that he would undoubtedly be receiving the next time he spoke with the rather forward young woman.
Carter raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "No shit? Seems kinda…fast…"
Norman smiled weakly in agreement. "Ah, well…They're rath'ah impulsive people…."
"And which people are these?" came an amused female voice. Norman jumped slightly, heat rushing to his face – when the hell had she answered? Grateful that Madison couldn't see his reaction, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
"N-nobody. Don't worry about it. How've you been, Madison?" His tongue tripped over several of the words. It was no secret journalists set him on the edge, and Madison was, fittingly enough, no exception. The lady's teasing could rival Carter's at times - and speaking of the cop, he could make out from the corner of his eye that the man was wearing a jackass grin only present when Norman found himself in an embarrassing situation.
"I know you made a point of ignoring journalists, but I never thought that'd be directed at me." The mock hurt in her voice was oozing with insincerity.
"Yeah, yeah…I'm sorr'ah I forgot to call."
To Norman's surprise, Madison cut the teasing short for once. "You said you had some questions about the wedding?"
"Oh…Yeah. I wanted to know if-" Norman paused, knowing that with present company, his next statement was going to fall under some seriously harsh mocking. Still, leaving the room would only pique the tactless asshole's curiosity. "…If you guys had a specific col'ah in mind for the wedding before I got a tux…"
Carter didn't fail his expectations as he laughed sharply before turning back to face the TV, unpausing the game and uttering without looking at him, "Jesus Christ, you're gay." Norman made a face at the back of his head, glad to see him fall to his death again on screen.
"…Have company?" Madison asked far too innocently. Norman jumped; he had been too preoccupied about Carter making fun of him to realize that the taunts would likely be heard on the other line.
"What? No…no, the TV's on," he brushed off, trying to sound as casual as possible.
He must have sounded halfway convincing, as Madison dropped the subject entirely as she went on to answer. "No, it's going to be pretty standard…Just a classic black and white is fine. Though I'm surprised you have to buy one; I figured you'd have hundreds lying around," she added jokingly.
"Those are business suits," Norman replied dryly. "And I really only own a few…I do a lot less wallowing in the mud here in D.C…"
Still chuckling slightly, she moved on. "Is that the only thing you wanted to ask?" Norman easily caught that same light tone of voice – it was subtle, but something about the slight overdose of casualness set him on the defensive.
"I think that's all…I'll call'yah back if anything else comes to mind."
"Oh, wait! Before I go…" Madison added, just as his thumb was about to press against the end call button. He paused expectantly to wait for her to finish. "Could you tell Lieutenant Blake he's more than welcome to show up? I'd send an invitation, but I figure it'd be quicker if you told him."
Norman tried his very best to stifle the startled coughing fit he found himself sent into as Carter turned in his seat to give him a confused (though thoroughly amused) look. Seeking shelter, he bolted into the bedroom as the older man watched with renewed interest.
"I-…I guess I could, but why would it be fast'ah if I told him?" he managed once out of earshot of the man in question.
There was an awkward silence on the line for a moment – awkward for him, anyway – He'd bet his rather considerable life savings that Madison was enjoying every second of it. Norman always had the impression Madison knew more than she let on about him and Blake; how much was the question. It left him in the highly uncomfortable position of not knowing what he could say without confirming her suspicions.
"…I just figured telling someone in person was a lot faster than the mail."
"How did you-"
"I didn't." Madison actually giggled at that, sending another wave of humiliation through him. It was unbelievable; despite all his caution, walking on egg shelves around the perspective woman, she had somehow caught him using what had to be the oldest trick in the book.
"…Okay. Why don't you just tell me what you know so I don't dig myself deepah?" Norman sighed in mixed defeat and irritation. That admission spoke volumes in and of itself, but Norman couldn't bring himself to care – at this point, it was obvious she wasn't fishing for more information so much as seeking a confession.
"Well, it's pretty newsworthy that the head police lieutenant of the area got shot. Then Shaun told me you took him to visit him in the hospital while we were out of town…And now he's out of town…The pieces just kind of fell into place." Her tone started off satisfied, but after a moment without any response, the satisfaction was replaced by a hint of worry.
"…Norman," she urged him gently. "I'm asking as a friend, not a reporter."
The simple statement actually filled Norman with quite a bit of guilt as he smiled into the receptor, his irritation diminishing. He started off with the intention of apologizing, but surprised himself as the words flowed out naturally on their own. "…Thanks, Madison."
A small laugh was ushered in response before Madison spoke again, "So…are you two, uh… together, then?"
"It's kinda…complicated."
"I see…" The skepticism in her voice was triumphed only by amusement. Thankfully, she dropped that line of questioning. "Should we be expecting another guest, then?"
"…I'll talk to him about it." Norman felt the tension draining out of his body from the conversation – it was rather nice, having an honest third party know about their relationship. Plus, it meant their game of cat and mouse could finally come to an end. He'd certainly sleep easier knowing for a fact that she knew rather than having to live in embarrassed ignorance. However, there was still one rather stressful factor eating at him.
"Hey, Madison…Please don't tell Ethan about me and Cartah, okay?" Even over the phone he knew she was taken aback by the request. "I don't mind you knowing, but I don't…want things to get weird between me and Ethan."
"…Ethan's not like that, Norman." Another stab of guilt struck him at how Madison sounded almost hurt over the remark. It was certainly true that Ethan had never struck him as the homophobic type, yet Norman knew from experience things could easily become awkward in a platonic male friendship when one party was gay. It was inexplicable, how much it bothered him – as far as he was concerned, his sexuality was no one's business except himself and whoever he was sharing a bed with. He knew that was a fairly atypical viewpoint, however. Unlike many, Norman felt his orientation did very little to define him. It wasn't who he was, just a fact about him– no different from how his hair was brown. Yet others simply didn't see it that way, and the amount of friendships that had suffered as a result was a number far too high, in his eyes. The very idea of losing the bond he had with the Mars family over something of such little importance was enough to make him nauseous.
"I don't mean-…I just…" Norman shifted uncomfortably, unable to muster a response that would satisfy himself, much less her.
"…I won't say anything, since you asked. You can tell him yourself…whenever you're ready. If you ever decide to."
"…Okay." Norman nodded slightly, resolving to find a moment before the wedding to have a talk with the groom. Not desiring to end the conversation on a negative note, inspiration struck him from his previous conversation with Carter.
"Oh- one more thing, Madison…Tell Ethan I said thanks for not telling Blake I was the one who let him go."
The laugh that greeted him from the other end of the line was the most jubilant he had ever heard from the younger woman. It filled him with a warm sense of satisfaction, assuring him that despite the tense nature of their discussion, their relationship hadn't suffered in the slightest.
"You have no idea how much trouble they gave him," Madison replied, still chuckling. "Well…" She paused, the joking undertone in her voice returning, "Maybe you do." A small blush crept across his face at the subtle tease. "Oh, Norman…I worry about you."
"That'd make you the first." Despite the words, Norman was grinning quite openly.
"I wouldn't say that." Another cheerful laugh, and Norman found himself joining her this time around. "Take care of yourself, Norman."
"Mm-hm. You too, Madison."

"As you can see, sir, we're completely swamped today," the tailor sighed from behind the counter. It indeed appeared to be the case; the man in front of them was the only employee at the front register, as all others were off attending other customers. While the rather older worker left to retrieve Norman's tuxedo, a thought occurred to him as he turned around to address Blake.
"You want to pick one up here, too?"
Norman caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of Carter apathetically looking at one of the displayed tuxedos. He grabbed its corresponding price tag and gave a snort before dropping it and turning back to him. "I'll pass. I can get something back home that doesn't cost my whole fuckin' paycheck."
Unsurprised, Norman turned back to facing the register with a chuckle. Carter had seemed rather taken aback at being told he was invited to the wedding, but it hadn't taken much convincing on his part to get him to agree. Fortunately, he hadn't read in to the fact that Madison had asked him to relay the message…he wondered how he'd react once he knew that she knew about the two of them having…something together. He hadn't appeared particularly bothered when that nurse had walked in on them (Norman's face heated up slightly at the memory), but this was considerably different, as Madison and Carter actually knew one another to an extent. Norman pushed that particular thought aside for later as he saw the tailor return with his clothing.
"I do hope it fits right, but if there's any problems, please don't hesitate to ask. Despite the rush, we can certainly still accommodate you," the man nodded politely as he handed off the hanger to him. "There should be a vacant fitting room at the back of the store, to your right."
"Thanks." Norman gave the man a nod and a smile in return before heading in the indicated direction. Behind him, he heard Carter shift and begin to follow. The action made him grin a little as he remembered comparing the man to a dog earlier – now he was trailing behind his feet, unwilling to part from him in a foreign environment. It was more than a little amusing to see the Philadelphian police lieutenant out of his element in the classy, privately owned suit store.
They approached the vacant dressing room in the back of the store, Norman noting with some surprise how separated it was from the rest of the establishment. The inside appeared smaller than it actually was, as the wooden bench against the back wall and the three large mirrors at the front dominated the room, leaving little space in between. Norman set the tuxedo's hanger onto the hook on the door before shutting it, catching a glimpse before it closed completely of Carter slouching against the wall outside, folding his arms with a bored expression on his face.
You'll live, Cartah. Norman rolled his eyes at the thought, hooking the tuxedo to the door as he admired it a moment before slipping his jeans off, replacing them instead with the dress pants. Despite Carter's mocking of how allegedly gay he was, he had picked it out specifically for how simple its design was. He wanted to look as professional as possible without standing out; Norman wasn't one for large social gatherings in the first place, so wearing something that maintained a low profile was crucial. It was the reason he called Madison in the first place – he didn't want to be the one guy in black if they had gone with a white theme or something.
The jacket was a plain, but classy black, contrasting with the white dress shirt he began to button up (without any ruffles or anything of the sort – he hated that shit). It had originally come with a matching white bowtie, but Norman had opted to replace it for the silk, white tie he was currently wrapping around his neck, enjoying the soft feel of the fabric between his fingers. No amount of fondness for the Mars family could make him actually wear a bowtie – he rather doubted there was a force strong enough on the planet that could do so.
He had to admit, as he shrugged himself in to the last remaining article, the jacket, that he was relieved everything still fit right after his recent binge exercising. If anything, he actually filled out the jacket better - previously, it had hung a little too loosely around his shoulders. Now it seemed to snugly fit his frame, accentuating his figure a great deal more than his typical work suit. Though he doubted it could afford to get any tighter.
Making a mental note to stick to cardio work outs until after the wedding, Norman opened the dressing room door. Carter was still lingering outside of it, chewing at the inside of his cheek in a fashion that screamed boredom. He stopped upon seeing him exit the room, his expression slowly changing into a rather perplexing look Norman was sure he had seen once or twice before. The when and where was escaping him, just barely out of reach – either way, the intensity of the stare was rather embarrassing. Seeking to alleviate the awkward air, he asked, "Does it look all right?"
Carter blinked, the expression fading away as he met his eyes, a smirk replacing it. " 'Makes you look pale as fuck, but it's better than grey."
Norman laughed softly as he turned his back to the cop, shrugging off the tuxedo's jacket and ripping off the tie as he walked back into the dressing room and hung them both back up. "But grey matches my eyes, Blake…" he responded with heavy sarcasm. His smile flickered as he turned to find himself face to face with the man, who kicked the door closed with the bottom of his foot. Before he could question any of the actions, he found himself with his back pressed against the changing room's wall, one of Carter's arms circling around his waist as the other hand grabbed his face, pushing him into Carter's lips with almost fanatical force.
Norman was too startled to do anything except let his instincts take over as he kissed him back. Carter had never struck him as the kissing type – indeed, the first half of their relationship had been completely without the sensual act. It implied affection more than sexuality, in Norman's mind, and he suspected the older cop felt the same way. Yet ever since they had drunkenly made out on the floor of Carter's house, Carter had lost all reluctance to perform the act. Those instances were behind closed doors, in the comfort one of their homes, however – right now, they were in a clothing store, for Christ's sake. Even if the dressing room door was closed. He supposed it wasn't that big of a deal, though; it wasn't as if they were-
The hand previously cupping his face slid down, reaching to the half undone buttons of his pants. With a single jerk, Carter pulled both the pants and his briefs halfway down his thighs, hand resting there until Norman swatted it away. He broke off the kiss to shoot the man an incredulous glance. "Cartah, what the fuck are you-"
Carter's hand quickly shot out to cover his mouth, muffling his noisy protests. "Don't be so loud, we're in a public place," Carter chastised him, sounding rather like a father scolding his child for throwing a fit in a restaurant.
Norman jerked his head around to momentarily free his mouth, "Exactly, so sto-"He broke off as his efforts to avoid being gagged came to a halt as Carter stuck several fingers into his mouth. Blake never was the type to not learn from his mistakes, however; before Norman could drive his teeth into the invading appendages, he yanked his fingers out. Norman's eyes shot open to glare at him for the rude intrusion. All thoughts of doing so vanished as he instead caught sight of Carter sticking the fingers into his own mouth, sucking down on them sloppily in order to lather them in spit. The simple yet oddly erotic act did more to increase his arousal than anything he had seen the lieutenant do previously. His struggling grew halfhearted at best as the soaked hand made its way down his still clothed back to his ass. Carter squeezed it condescendingly; the demeaning act brought Norman temporarily back to his senses as he tried to escape from his grasp again. The thick, unyielding arm wrapped around his arms and torso increased its grip rather painfully in response as he felt himself forcibly turned around into the dressing room wall – though it was Carter pressing a wet finger to his entrance that made him freeze in his tracks.
"Better control your voice on your own, my hands are full…" Carter teased softly before lightly biting down on his earlobe. Without waiting for a response, he forced two fingers inside.
Norman gritted his teeth, doing his best to avoid making any type of noise, least of all one that resembled anything like pleasure. The very last thing he needed was to give off any signs that he was enjoying this; he was the one that had considerably more to lose if anyone caught them like this, given their present location. God, he couldn't even imagine how his superiors would react if word got out that he was having sex in a clothing store – and with another man, to boot.
The way Carter expertly maneuvered his fingers to locate the sensitive, swelled organ inside of him made it hard to spare that thought any time. Though his previous comment that Carter could finger a guy way too well was intended to be malicious and snide, it nonetheless was far too truthful for Norman's liking.
He squirmed against Carter's grip again, trying to free his arms as a growing sense of need filled him. To his relief, Carter allowed it, his hand shooting up just in time to muffle a moan as Carter applied a great deal more pressure onto his prostate. Carter's arm remained steady around his waist, however; he felt himself be pulled back as Carter cautiously stepped back before seating himself on the waiting bench at the back of the small changing room. The entire situation grew twice as humiliating as Norman was subsequently pulled into Carter's lap.
With his eyes tightly closed in strain and his back facing the cop, it was difficult to reason what his intentions were when he felt the arm previously entrapping him leave his side. Seconds later, he heard a familiar cling of metal that told him a belt was being unbuckled, followed by a shifting of fabric. The hips underneath him wiggled slightly before the unmistakable feel of Carter's hot and incredibly hard dick brushed against the soft fabric still covering his back. All Norman's fears of being caught returned full force upon the other man's erection touching him. This just wasn't a good idea, neither of them were particularly known for their self-control…how were they going to manage keeping their voices dow-
"Does it fit right, sir?"
Even Carter jumped in shock at the returning tailor's question, his fingers quickly retreating from Norman's ass - Norman just barely managed to morph the moan into a loud cough before answering.
"Y-Yes!" He wanted to die when he heard the sound of his own voice; high pitched and ridiculously strained.
"You're sure, sir? We were a little uncertain if we made the sleeves too long…" The doorknob shifted slightly, sending him into an absolute state of panic.
"No no no! They'ah…perfect! Fine. Everything's fine, you can help your oth'ah customers…" Despite his better wishes, the words came out as an obvious plea.
"…Very well, sir," the tailor sounded surprised, though thankfully not overly so. "Please don't hesitate to call me if anything has been measured incorrectly."
"Th-thanks…" Norman waited for the footsteps to fade away before releasing the breath he'd been holding in. Behind him, he could feel Carter shaking with laughter.
"Ahhhh, fuck. That was pretty close." The comment came off as so nonchalant that Norman wanted to strangle him. He twisted around in his lap with those exact intentions, though Carter recognized his hostile intent instantly and managed to grab both his wrists before forcing him to face forward again.
Carter adjusted his wrists so they were held instead by only one hand. Looking up, he could see through the reflection the dressing room's large mirrors offered that Carter had just spat into the freed one. Seconds later, he felt that the hot organ once again pressed against his back was now considerably damper. In spite of situation, Norman felt a flutter of excitement rush through the pit of his stomach, his body still aching from need from Carter's previous ministrations. He tried to ignore the sensation to the best of his ability as he turned his neck as much as it allowed in order to catch the gaze of his captor's eyes.
"Stop fuckin' around, Cartah!" He meant to sound firm, but the odd excitement building in him and the tension of the situation strangled the words.
His poorly concealed eagerness wasn't lost on Carter in the slightest. "You don't sound too convincing there, Norman."
"We're gonna get caught-"
"-Only if you don't keep your voice down," he hissed back irritably, a tone of finality heavy in his voice as he lined himself up against his ass again. Without waiting to hear another word against him, Carter wrapped his arm around his waist once more, pushing Norman back into his chest as his other hand made its way to his waist for leverage before shoving himself inside him.
The previously applied spit was enough to allow for Carter to move, but not quite enough to completely be rid of the raw, burning sensation caused by the friction of their bodies moving together. Norman grimaced in pain, trying to adjust to the new and rather unpleasant feeling. Far from dissatisfied, Norman was actually rather relieved – it'd be a lot easier to keep quiet this way…If he just let Carter do his thing, they could be done with this quicker, possibly even without jeopardizing his reputation.
With that thought in mind, Norman tensed his body up before shoving his hips down in time to match Carter's next thrust. It shot pain throughout his lower body, but he put his focus instead on silently cherishing the poorly subdued moan that followed from Carter.
"Fuck…" Carter groaned quietly, pulling himself out of the now much tighter channel. "Loosen up, Jayden..."
The pleasured yet strained command jolted Norman's memory as he recalled exactly when he had seen that piercing look Carter had directed at him earlier. Not even two months ago, when Carter had similarly cornered him in the shower after they hadn't seen one another in a month. In the same weekend, he had caught a few glimpses of it again while wearing the other man's clothes. It was a sexual glare that spoke mostly of physical attraction, but what caught Norman's attention was how it seemed to contain an underlying sense of almost…affection, that set it apart from the man's usual lustful looks.
His body relaxed considerably upon making the connection, just in time to allow for Carter's next thrust up to slide in deeper unhindered. Forgetting himself and their location completely, Norman didn't attempt to silence the pleasured cry it caused.
"Keep your voice down, dipshit!" Carter reminded him in quiet irritation, his own voice containing the same satisfaction nonetheless.
"S-shit. S'ahr-" Norman bit back the apology – as far as he was concerned, this whole thing was Carter's fault. Even if he was finding himself getting into it more and more by the second, evidenced by the fact that he was now matching Carter's movements to the best of his abilities. The room was silent for several minutes except for subdued moans and quiet grunts before Carter spoke again.
"Look up." The husky command was hissed directly into his ear – despite Carter's hot breath, it sent a shiver down his spine. Without stopping to analyze the order, he obeyed it, immediately realizing why Carter demanded it as he met his own gaze in the mirror.
If he hadn't known otherwise, Norman wouldn't have recognized the man in the mirror as himself. His face was completely reddened, sweat covering it due to the physical exertion his body was undergoing, starting from his forehead and dripping down his face. The salty liquid had mingled with his hair, causing several strands to escape their carefully gelled holdings, curling down to almost cover his eyes – which were half lidded and completely unfocused. One well-placed thrust later, and he could only watch as his mouth parted to allow the accompanying, barely subdued moan to escape it.
Norman averted his eyes from his own face as sheer embarrassment took hold. In doing so, he caught a glimpse of the rest of his body. He could feel that sweat was glistening down his torso as well – and now see it was causing the buttoned dress shirt he had been trying on to cling to his body. Further down he spotted Carter's arm that was possessively pressing against his waist again to hold him steady. Directly underneath it, he saw his cock was just as dampened as the rest of him, the liquid coating it instead what he knew had to be his own precum. Norman looked away from it quickly, noticing instead that the matching dress pants were still clinging to his thighs. A new fear clenched at his stomach as he closed his eyes before putting it into words.
"…C-Cartah," he struggled to say as the other man thrust back into him perfectly.
"Mh-hm?" The small hum tickled against his neck, making him shiver all over again.
"Th-…the sh-shirt…" he stammered, as Carter hadn't stopped moving to allow him to speak.
"What about it?" Carter asked in amusement before pressing his lips back to his neck, sucking down gently.
"It's gonna-…fu-fuck, it's gonna-" He let out a small growl of frustration as Carter continued grinding against his prostate, rendering speech nearly impossible. Norman jerked his hips up, trying to escape the stimulation for a few moments so he could actually speak. His only reward was a small laugh for his futile efforts before Carter grabbed his hips and pushed him back down. Fortunately for both of them, Carter had the insight to quickly shoot a hand up from his waist to his mouth in order to cover the loud moan that followed.
Carter seemed to pick up on his preoccupation, however. The other hand planted on his waist began to move upward, capturing the top button and slowly undoing it. Carter started to move the hand covering his mouth to aid the other before thinking better of it – Norman had reached the point where maintaining control over his voice was nigh impossible. With a small chuckle, he left it there and continued the task of undoing the shirt one-handed. Once every button was undone, his shifted the fabric aside to further expose Norman's chest and stomach.
The rough hand on his mouth being the only barrier between the entire damn store hearing him moan like a slut was enough to drive Norman into an insane state of embarrassed arousal – it only seemed to peak as Carter's other warm, calloused hand began to caress his now naked flesh. Norman had no idea what sensation to focus on – the worn, almost leather-like skin gliding up and down his much smoother torso, Carter's lips brushing similarly across his neck, or the characteristically harsh thrusts hitting him just right. Instead, he found himself raising his head again to peer at his own reflection. He could barely make himself out, his vision was so blurred; to which he was very grateful, as it was humiliating enough to see his blurry form now matching Carter's every moment again as he practically bounced up and down on his cock.
Carter noticed the sudden shift in his line of vision, meeting Norman's gaze in the mirror with the smallest hint of a smile. "You know I wouldn't actually let anyone catch us," Carter breathed, his voice now carrying a significant amount of strain.
"…I'm the only one who gets to see you like this."
The words were possessive in nature, but the almost affectionate way they were uttered sent Norman over the edge completely. The hand being used as a barricade for sound wasn't enough to completely conceal the almost desperate sounding moan Norman ushered as he came all over his own stomach. He didn't even have a chance to relish in the moment as he felt a sharp tug on his damp hair, pulling his head back at an awkward angle. Before he could say a word, Norman felt his lips be forcefully pressed against Carter's. Norman could feel the man's cock twitch inside him as he pushed himself in one final time, followed by the familiar sensation of hot liquid stinging his insides in a pleasant sort of way. The sound of Carter's own satisfied moan was muffled against Norman's mouth before Carter drew his lips away, releasing his grip on Norman's hair with a slight smirk.
Norman shifted his neck back to a more natural position before cracking it with a grunt. He opened his eyes again – his face burning even redder as his now-cleared vision took in the sight of himself covered in his own cum, seated on Carter's lap. He looked down quickly – partly to avoid soaking in the image more, and partly to make sure none of the bodily fluid had stained the shirt. Upon noting nothing after triple checking it, he shifted himself out of the garment as carefully as possible to avoid the mess on his torso.
Carter made a move to push Norman off of him – in a brief moment of panic, Norman caught both his wrists and pushed them back down. "Wait!"
He raised an eyebrow before jerking his arms out from his grip. "What? I gathered that this is your thing, but I ain't going a second round…"
"It's not my-…" Norman sighed, deciding it was better to just cut his losses and surrender on that point, as every bit of evidence seemed to be pointing otherwise. Instead, he jerked back his elbow into the softer part of Carter's stomach, relishing the small grunt of pain that followed. Before he could retaliate, Norman continued, "No, jackass, I just don't want the pants to get dirty eith'ah." With that, he squirmed out of the expensive article of clothing before kicking it off entirely into the corner.
Once the as of yet unpurchased clothing was safely out of the way, Carter playfully shoved him off with a smirk. Norman stumbled before he managed to successfully support his own weight. He pulled his briefs back up, blushing horribly as he could still easily feel the sticky mess inside him. He hated leaving it there, but it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it at this point – it'd have to wait until he could properly clean himself off in a shower.
"You're a complete asshole," he muttered as he pulled the shirt he had been wearing previously inside out to mop up the semen on his chest before putting it back on. He considered it a blessing that he had at least worn a white shirt today.
"So you keep telling me."
Through the mirror he could make out the smug, self-satisfied expression on Carter's face. Pressing his lips together tightly, Norman noted that it was the exact same look he had been wearing the first time Norman ever lost his professional composure and cussed him out all those months ago.
…And look at us now, Norman. He pushed the thought aside with a sigh, smoothing out his shirt and flattening his hair, using the mirrors as guidance in the task of making himself look like someone that hadn't just been thoroughly fucked.
- 7
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