It all starts at the bar that evening, when Kotetsu thinks that Barnaby's had just enough wine to not bother complaining about a few stray glances and touches in public. Elbow on the bar, chin in hand, Kotetsu gazes passionately at his lover, a burning heat in his eyes that Barnaby can feel penetrating him to the very core. The blond's cheeks darken with the thought of the lewd things Kotetsu is probably thinking in that moment, and he shifts a little on the barstool. He's not as far gone as Kotetsu thinks, and he's very much embarrassed when fingers slide lightly along his thigh in a languid, teasing movement.

"Kotetsu," Barnaby hisses, placing his own hand upon his lover's and temporarily stopping the motion of his hand. "We agreed to nothing in public, remember?"

Kotetsu is disappointed, and he wonders how much more Barnaby would have to drink to forget about that little deal they made. It's too difficult to control his urges at a time like this, when Barnaby is close enough to be touched and grabbed and taken, and the pink flush on his pale cheeks makes him even harder to resist.

"Calm down, Bunny, I'm barely touching you, and no one's watching."

Barnaby knows better than that. After working in the television business for as long as he has and after amassing such a large amount of attention in a short time span, he's learned his lesson. He knows full well that there are always eyes watching, waiting for him to make a public mistake or embarrass himself so the next morning can birth new tabloids and television specials that cry, "Barnaby Brooks Jr. did this!" It's troublesome being a celebrity, but he has no choice in the matter.

He's holding Kotetsu's hand in a white-knuckled grip to prevent him from moving any higher along Barnaby's thigh, but it's becoming harder and harder to resist when he meets Kotetsu's smoldering topaz eyes with his own cold, emerald ones. His gaze wanders down to Kotetsu's mouth, where his tongue slowly drags along his bottom lip to wet the flesh just begging to have Barnaby's own mouth covering it. Barnaby thinks about how that same tongue would feel dragging along his collarbone, his stomach, the head of his cock—

Abruptly standing, keeping Kotetsu's hand in a nearly painful grip, Barnaby steps so close that their noses are almost touching. It's hard to tell whether the intensity painted on his features is from anger or arousal, but either way Kotetsu likes it. He can feel Barnaby's heavy breathing hot on his face, smell the alcohol on his breath, see the hard rise and fall of his chest beneath that tight leather jacket. It's exactly what Kotetsu wants—Barnaby being worked up like this, hot and bothered and needy and desperate.

"We're going home, old man."

Kotetsu laughs through his nose, amused at how demanding Barnaby is being and deciding whether or not he should rile Barnaby up by being difficult or if it would be more fun to just play along.

"Are we now?" he counters coolly, pulling his hand away from Barnaby's grasp and raising it instead to his cheek. Barnaby promptly swats it away, fire burning in his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin grimace. He knows he's losing control, something he hates more than anything else. He knows he's in public, and that only escalates the issue.

"Don't touch me again." The words are forced through gritted teeth, and Barnaby's grabbing bills from his pocket to slam down onto the bar so they can just leave. It's obvious that Kotetsu is amused, loving the way Barnaby is over-reacting and savoring every moment of it. Their banter doesn't stop for even a moment on the way home. The train ride is infuriating, and Barnaby is so close to just pinning Kotetsu to the seat and having his way. That's not what he really wants, though, and both he and Kotetsu know that.

When Kotetsu makes a move to stand the moment the stop nearest his partner's apartment is called, Barnaby grabs his wrist and forces him back down into the seat. "Your place," he says simply, keeping his eyes straight ahead, staring intently at the map on the train just to give him something to concentrate on other than Kotetsu's body beside him or the way his cock is starting to feel strained against his pants. "Your walls are thicker."

Kotetsu grins, leaning back in his seat and stretching his legs as he crosses one ankle over the other. "I like the way you think, Bunny, but could you be any more subtle?" He laughs, knowing he's won, and doesn't hesitate to trace lines along Barnaby's leg once again. Even through the layer of denim, the light caresses send lightning up Barnaby's spine and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, swallowing hard and wetting his lips which suddenly seem so dry.

They're not the only ones on the train, and it's a miracle that he manages to wait until they finally reach their stop before he loses control. The second they're in Kotetsu's home and the door is shut behind them, Barnaby is loud, moaning Kotetsu's name and clinging to him more desperately than the veteran hero has ever seen anyone in his life.

"Just fuck me already, Kotetsu, and stop teasing me—"

The whimpered pleas are cut short when Kotetsu is trailing tiny kisses along Barnaby's neck and jawline, not even bothering to turn on the lights before throwing his lover against the nearest sturdy surface and showering him with the affection that he's wanted to bestow all evening. Barnaby finally melts in his arms, no longer afraid of unwanted eyes watching their every move. He's comfortable now, relaxed and at home in the privacy of Kotetsu's home, and there's nothing to hold back anymore. Even Kotetsu's kisses are nothing but annoying now, because now that they're alone Barnaby wants more.

"Inside me—you—not kissing—" he pants, unable to form words or even a coherent thought as Kotetsu is loosening his tie, sliding his belt from the loops of his pants even as he's still littering Barnaby's neck, ears, and chest with light kisses and tiny swipes of his tongue.

"Be patient, Bunny," Kotetsu chides him. "You're the one who's been making me hold back all evening. Now you know how it feels."

Barnaby's getting frustrated, and it's obvious when he tears Kotetsu's shirt from his shoulders and grabs him by the hair. They're staring into each other's eyes, Barnaby's fist holding Kotetsu's head steady, and the tension exchanged in that moment is unbelievable.

"Fuck me now," Barnaby demands, each word enunciated as if it is its own sentence.

The heat of the blond's words goes straight to Kotetsu's cock and the old man can't bring himself to tease Barnaby any further, can't bring himself to deny that he wants what Barnaby wants. The trip up the stairs to the bedroom is chaotic and desperate, and neither of them want to deal with the extra effort to make it to the bed but they both know that's where the lube is. Kotetsu half-drags Barnaby up the stairs with him and there are articles of clothing falling from their shoulders and their hips until the entire staircase is littered with the discarded garments.

Barnaby's mouth is watering by the time he's thrown down onto the bed, and just the sight of Kotetsu's arousal is enough to elicit a desperate groan from deep within him.

"That's gonna be in you in a minute, Bunny," Kotetsu says, not bothering to hide the lust and the need from his voice as he slicks his fingers with lube.

Barnaby's beside himself with excitement and he readies himself, leaning back against the pillows and the headboard and spreading his legs in a lewd display that only Kotetsu would ever see, watching with bated breath as his partner slicks the remaining lube onto his cock. Kotetsu hisses out a breath he didn't realize he's been holding at the first feel of his own fingers around him, spreading the lube from base to tip and closing his eyes at the frictionless glide of his thumb over the slit. Barnaby whimpers and he remembers he has a job to do, finally slipping two of his fingers into the needy blond spread before him and curling them within him.

It's perfect, so perfect, and Barnaby is moaning and sighing and whimpering Kotetsu's name and he's so glad the wait is over. His head thrown back against the pillows, golden curls spread haphazardly around him and his lips parted to allow every sigh and moan to escape his lips, he's the perfect picture of debauchery when Kotetsu adds another finger.

It's not enough, not enough for either of them, and it's not long at all before Kotetsu is positioning the head at Barnaby's entrance, pushing against him and past the first ring of tight, hot muscle. "Hard," the younger man manages to whimper, and Kotetsu obliges by grabbing Barnaby's hips and pulling him forward until his cock is buried all the way inside him. His thrusts are desperate and fast from the start and with each one he's mercilessly pulling Barnaby's hips forward to meet him.

It never ceases to amuse Kotetsu how Barnaby becomes so quickly undone whenever they make love, the normally soft-spoken personality of the blond evolving into something lewd and uninhibited. He's crying things so desperately Kotetsu can't even make out the words, but the lisp is absolutely unmistakable. The tiny imperfections in Barnaby's speech only encourage Kotetsu to thrust harder, faster, using Barnaby to the greatest extent he's capable of until he's coming unglued just like the man he's pounding repeatedly into.

It's when Barnaby is about to reach his climax that Kotetsu loses it, the sound of his name pouring from Barnaby's lips and all the lisped cries and pleas just enough to send him over the edge and spill himself into his lover. Barnaby isn't far behind and he can't even see straight when he finishes, can barely breathe, definitely can't think. It's several long moments before Kotetsu pulls out of him, the older man too focused on his afterglow to remove himself from the warmth of Barnaby's body. Both of their eyes flutter shut the second Kotetsu flops down beside him, and they're both utterly spent and gasping for air.

"If this is what happens," Kotetsu pants, "When I tease you in public, remind me to do it more often."

Barnaby opens his eyes halfway, thick eyelashes providing a sultry curtain over the emerald hue, and replies, "Don't you even dare."