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A big hullabaloo, great loud noises roaring from every direction, lights moving rapidly across his face so bright as to feel like touch. Bustling bodies moving every which way, and Newton falling through it all.
He catches himself on Hermann’s shoulder. “Hey,” he breathes. He is drunk. But so is Hermann. If anything, Hermann suspects that he himself might be a little further along, nursing as he has been from the steady supply of booze on the drinks table next to him. Tolerance lessened by medication and all that. It is a wonder that Newton did not send them both careening to the floor. Hermann’s seat, an old and battered stool, was perhaps made exactly for circumstances like these. Drunk men nearing the end of the world. “We should fuck,” Newton shouts over the noise.
Not unexpected. Still something that Hermann would need more time to think over. Not a decision to make now, under an influence, picking at the label on his beer can.
“Why don’t you kiss that man over there for me?” Hermann suggests.
Newton’s face scrunches comically behind his glasses. “What? ” he yells. Perhaps the noise, perhaps Hermann’s request. Hermann wraps an arm around Newt and pulls him closer. Drunk, after all. He savors the warmth seeping through Newton’s jacket, the texture of the leather.
“You heard me,” Hermann says in Newton’s ear.
The man that Hermann initially had his sights on has disappeared into the crowd, but Hermann isn’t picky. Another handsome fellow—arms made big by mechanical labor—comes into view. Newton’s sight falls on the same man and they track him together. Hermann is about to repeat his suggestion when Newton breaks away and high-tails it towards him.
What follows is some over-the-top and very salacious flirtation, pursued by Newton being felt up thoroughly against the wall adjacent to Hermann’s little seat. The fellow is taller than Newton and encloses him easily. Newton seems to be having a good time, sometimes forgetting to make half-lidded do you see me? Are we gonna fuck after? eye contact with Hermann. He is occasionally audible even over the party’s noise.
Afterwards, Newton stumbles back to Hermann, breathing heavy and in all sorts of disarray. Hermann thought that Newton had finished during his foray (head tipped back while the stranger sucked a bruise into his neck, eyes shut, a moan loud and helplessly dirty enough that Hermann’s thighs squeezed together of their own will), but he must have been mistaken as Newton’s erection is glaringly evident through his pants. “So, uh, are we gonna…?” Newton asks, somehow shy now.
“Tomorrow, maybe.” Hermann flicks his cane into his hand from where it leaned against the wall and stands. “I have some things to ponder.” He lowers his voice and watches Newton tense pleasantly: “You put on a very enjoyable show.”