The smell and sounds of the bar make you instantly relax as you let the heavy door slam shut behind you. No one notices, too preoccupied with their own evening to give you a second glance. With a slight smile, you worm your way through the throngs of people, towards the bar, eventually finding an empty stool and sitting on it.
After flagging down a bartender, you order a drink and patiently wait as he prepares it. You’re twitchy and on edge, needing a way to release this pent up energy. It’s been far too long since you’ve enjoyed the company of a man, and your one goal for the evening is to have something quick and sweaty with a hot stranger.
As if on cue, the stool next to you is pulled out and man slides onto it. “This seat free, love?” he asks.
Your drink is placed on the napkin in front of you, and you gingerly pick it up as you turn your head and look at the new arrival. He’s handsome, in a gruff, unkempt sort of way. His hair is in disarray and he hasn’t seen the clean side of a razor in a few days, but his eyes are glittering with mischief and his mouth twitches up into a smirk around the end of a cigarette.
“That depends,” you smile before taking a sip.
He raises an eyebrow, adjusting his tan trench coat as he makes himself comfortable. “That so? On what?” he asks, motioning to the bartender. An ashtray is slid in front of him, followed by a glass with few fingers of whiskey.
“What you intend to do once you’re sitting there,” you say.
The man’s smirk widens and he withdraws the cigarette with a final drag. “Have a drink, and a chat with a pretty girl,” he says, extinguishing the smoke before extending his hand. “John Constantine.”
You study him for a moment, deciding you like the aura he’s giving off. It’s clear he’s flirting, and you have the feeling he has every intention of following through. So you take his offered hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Constantine,” you say, shaking it.
“Please, just John. Or Johnny even. Pretty girls get to call me Johnny,” he winks, picking up his glass.
You laugh at his complete lack of subtlety, feeling a flush come across your face. Honestly, it’s refreshing. He is clearly interested, and he’s letting you know without coming across as a total creeper, which almost never happens. You haven’t been in a relationship in some time, and while you’re not exactly looking for one tonight, you are looking for fun. Something tells you messing around with John Constantine will be a whole lot of fun.
“Alright then, Johnny,” you say. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“It’s as I said, love. I’m here to have a drink and a chat,” he says, the glass dangling from between his fingers. “And...if all goes well, maybe a little more.”
You smirk, extending your glass for a toast. “Here’s to a little more,” you say.
Both eyebrows shoot up this time as John looks pleasantly surprised by the turn of events. “Aye, cheers,” he says, tapping his glass to yours.
Eye contact remains even as you both sip your drinks. There’s a chemistry there that you haven’t felt with someone in a long time. It’s palpable, and you find your arms teeming with goose bumps at just the lightest brush of John’s knee against yours under the bar.
“Can I buy you another drink?” John asks, motioning to your nearly empty glass.
You study him for a moment, before downing whatever alcohol remains. “You can wait two minutes after I leave and then follow me to the bathroom,” you say bluntly.
You watch John process your words, his pale cheeks tinting red and pupils dilating. He licks his lips, casting a quick look around to gleam what you already learned. The pub isn’t particularly busy, and the toilets are tucked far enough away that people probably don’t even know that they’re there. John looks back at you, as you tilt your head, silently questioning him.
“After you, love,” he smirks behind the rim.
You carefully extract the right amount of bills to cover both your drinks and a tip, placing them on the bar before sliding off the stool. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, and it takes all your willpower to walk calmly towards the bathroom. John’s eyes follow you the entire way, and as a result, you add an extra swing to your hips. With such a small pub, the bathrooms are mercifully individual, so you don’t need to worry about anyone walking in on you both.
It’s only a few seconds later that John turns the corner to find you waiting for him, and without missing a beat, he yanks you into a kiss, allowing you to push him in the direction of one of the bathrooms. The both of you stumble in, the door is slammed shut and locked, and John is shoved against the sink as your hands find their way into his trench coat. He grabs for you as well, though when he tries to unbutton your coat, you shy away.
“Let’s just leave that on,” you say, before diving in for another kiss.
“Why’s that, love?” John asks. “Shouldn’t Johnny get a chance to touch you too?”
“I just--” Shit, you didn’t want to deal with your self-consciousness now. “You don’t need to touch me, I’m good.”
“But I want to,” John insists, tugging on your coat to draw your body against his. “Let Johnny feel you, love.” He’s practically purring, tongue sliding out to flick at your lips before he plants another kiss there.
You practically melt in his arms, a flush coming over you as your arousal spikes. “You want to touch me even though I’m...curvy?” you ask in a soft voice.
John draws back slightly with a frown. “You’re gorgeous,” he insists. “Why wouldn’t I want to bloody touch you?” He studies you for a moment, noting the surprise in your eyes. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, love! You’re bloody spectacular! And if a bloke has a problem with your size, especially when you’ve shoved ‘em into the loo for a quick grapple, then the problem is with him, not with you.”
You can feel yourself blushing, John’s words ringing in your ears. No one’s ever said that to you before, and he’s looking at you with such amazement and want, you can’t help but kiss him again. With determination, you take his hands and press them to the front of your coat. He gets the message, kissing you back heatedly while scrambling to undo the buttons.
The coat is shoved off your shoulders and then John’s hands are sliding under your shirt, running up your stomach, only to find your breasts. He gives them an experimental squeeze and you gasp into his mouth, your own hands fumbling with his belt buckle. He’s already hard when you slip your hand into his trousers.
It’s thrilling to have a man throbbing against your palm while you give him a firm rub, and you waste no time falling to your knees. John looks down at you through hooded lids, his upper teeth digging into his bottom lip at the sight of you kneeling in front of him.
The light in the bathroom isn’t the best, but it’s well enough for you to get a good look at John’s cock. He’s longer than you anticipated, thick and perfect and you can’t help but lick up the underside, all the way to the tip. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, leaning against the sink to steady himself. Not giving him a chance to catch his breath, you suck the head between your lips, hard. John instantly bucks at the sensation, a hand seizing the back of your head. Greedily you suck him in as far as he can go, until you practically gag.
John lets out a smattering of swears followed by, “Christ, love!”
Smirking around his girth, you draw back only to suck him down again, harder this time. You need him to keep making those sounds; they’re growing increasingly addicting. You squeeze the part of his cock you can’t fit into your mouth, before stroking in time with your sucks. He’s already slick with your spit, and you find yourself drooling slightly, but it’s all worth it.
John’s fingers tangle in your hair, while his other hand grips the sink so tightly his knuckles are turning white. At one point, he tentatively thrusts up as you sink down and it makes the head of his cock brush the back of your throat. You force yourself to relax, allowing him to slide in even further. When you use your free hand to cup his balls, he shouts so loud you have to pull off with a smack of your lips.
“Keep that up, people will hear,” you pant, still massaging his sack.
“Bloody hell, I can’t help it!” John hisses, chest heaving as he stares down at you. “You’re fantastic with that tongue, you know that?”
“I do,” you smirk, licking him again.
Without warning, you start to jack him hard, leaning down to suck one of his balls into your mouth. John lets out a low moan, thrusting eagerly into your hand. “M’not gonna last if you keep treatin’ me like this,” he admits.
“Good, I want to taste you.”
And with that, you suck him back into your mouth and redouble your efforts. John is constantly moving, moaning as the seconds slowly tick by. He’s impossibly hard against your tongue, the heady taste of him invading your senses. Already beads of precome are leaking into your mouth and you swallow them greedily, anticipating the real thing. After squeezing his sack a final time, you sneak a finger past, gingerly stroking between his clenched cheeks and that’s all it takes.
John’s hands nearly pull your hair in warning, hips slamming forward one, two, three more times before he’s coming. You moan when he does, sucking down all of his release, still stroking his shaft and the soft pucker you’ve found. It isn’t until you’ve swallowed all of him that you finally relent, letting John’s softening cock slip from your mouth. The man himself looks thoroughly blissed out. He’s leaning his full weight back on the sink now, hands letting go of your head so he can run them through his own hair. Knowing your time is limited, you stand and swipe your coat off the floor.
“Thanks, I really needed that,” you tell him.
John opens his bleary eyes to shoot you a grin, only for it to fade instantly. “Where you off to so fast?” he asks. “I didn’t get a chance to return the favor.”
“No need, I’m good.” You slip the coat on and exit the bathroom before John even has a chance to pull his pants up.