[ utterly disgusted by the result, Cambridge stalked away from his place on Chiswick Bridge and headed away from the celebrations on the Middlesex bank. He had been so certain of a win this year - and he hadn't been the only one - that at first he didn't even have enough grace to bring himself to reply to the text. He curled a lip and ignored it, pocketing his phone and disappearing in to the crowds of revellers thronging the pubs and bars on Clifford Avenue]
[Cambridge rolls his eyes emphatically and looks away, fixing his gaze unseeingly on some dark spot in the recesses of the bar away from Oxford. He's one smug look away from kicking him underneath the table.]
[so very flatly:] Mm. I imagine it feels wonderful.
[ Oxford leans forward, elbow on the table, chin propped up in his hand as he surveys Cambridge with insufferable complacency. With the vaguest of movements, he slips his leg forward under the table, nudging at Cambridge's ankle in a manner that is only very slightly subtle. ]
[Cambridge's gaze snaps back to Oxford's at the touch to his leg. His first thought is to sneer and haughtily recoil but he catches himself when he realises just how insufferably complacant that smirk is. He leans forward slowly, mimicking Oxford's movements as he props his elbows on the table and surveys the other man with slightly narrowed eyes]
You should know, there's nothing I'd like more than to wipe that disgusting smirk off your face.
[ Oxford wishes for a moment that there wasn't a table in between him and Cambridge, because there's nothing more he would like to do than slip his hand up along Cambridge's thigh. Currently, he wouldn't be able to do so without practically throwing himself under the table, and that wouldn't be very good for appearances at all. He is content, for the moment, however, rubbing his foot suggestively against Cambridge's ankle. ]
Is that so? [ He smiles, vaguely. ] For some reason, I don't think I'd mind letting you do exactly that.
[for the first time since the race ended Cambridge genuinely starts to smile. His gaze slides away from Oxford and over Oxford's shoulder as he eyes the dark recesses of the bar and the door that led to the toilets. He takes a moment to wonder if he really was that awful... and quickly comes to the conclusion that, despite all his airs and pretentions, a little gutter-level dirtiness wasn't exactly above him. Or Oxford for that matter.]
Well then.
[He stands smoothly, ignoring his remaining drink and knocking back his chair with a clatter. Reaching forward he takes an armful of Oxford's sleeve and pulls him to his feet]
[ Oxford grins in a ridiculously pleased, teenage sort of way, stumbling to his feet and following after Cambridge very readily. He knows exactly where Cambridge's gaze was headed, and feels a tingly sort of pleasure at such a ridiculous notion. It's so juvenile and eighties, in Oxford's nitpicky opinion, but that's where the thrill comes from. Not to mention this will undoubtedly be an experience he will remind Cambridge of for years and years to come. He still hasn't quite forgotten that barn, all those centuries ago. ]
Good. [thankfully, Cambridge's highly-strung fussyness has never allowed him to have sex in a pub toilet in all his long years - but there's a first time for everything. With one hand still firmly grasping Oxford's sleeve Cambridge strides across the bar with the other man in tow and fairly pushes him through the toilet doors in his impatience to get out of the public eye. As soon as the door to the bar has swung shut behind them Cambride immediately sets on Oxford, pushing him insistently up against the wall and ducking in for a desperate - and still furious - kiss]
[ Oxford can't claim to have been adventurous enough to entertain having sex in such a location before either, but part of the excitement is that the notion's being entertained with such a little fusspot. As Cambridge's mouth presses against his, he responds fiercely, arms closing around Cambridge's middle to pull him as close as possible, nails digging into the fabric of the other city's clothes. Poorly stifling a rather wanton moan, Oxford very briefly hopes that no one else is currently in the vicinity to witness the flagrant display of passions, but he is easily distracted at the moment, and quickly turns his attentions back to kissing Cambridge with as much intensity as he can muster. ]
[still feeling less-than happy about the afternoon's proceedings, Cambridge bites emphatically hard on Oxford's lower lip as he moans by way of response. He smirks in to the kiss, enjoying the domineering way he grinds his hips against Oxford's and, with his hands balled in Oxford's clothes, pins him against the wall with all his weight]
[ Hissing slightly at the bite at his lip, Oxford feels several chills run up his spine in quick succession as Cambridge pushes him against the wall. One of his hands does a bit of wriggling in order for him to place it on Cambridge's nape, fingers clutching at the base of his curls as the kiss progresses, the other hand slipping downwards to - very unashamedly - grope Cambridge's arse. ]
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[so very flatly:] Mm. I imagine it feels wonderful.
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Oh, more than you can imagine.
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[Cambridge's gaze snaps back to Oxford's at the touch to his leg. His first thought is to sneer and haughtily recoil but he catches himself when he realises just how insufferably complacant that smirk is. He leans forward slowly, mimicking Oxford's movements as he props his elbows on the table and surveys the other man with slightly narrowed eyes]
You should know, there's nothing I'd like more than to wipe that disgusting smirk off your face.
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Is that so? [ He smiles, vaguely. ] For some reason, I don't think I'd mind letting you do exactly that.
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Well then.
[He stands smoothly, ignoring his remaining drink and knocking back his chair with a clatter. Reaching forward he takes an armful of Oxford's sleeve and pulls him to his feet]
You don't mind slumming it, do you?
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For you? Never.
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