Lauren's mind won't stay in line, and he can't stand it.
No matter what he tries, it keeps straying from the images he wants to focus on. Thoughts of those slim hands, that familiar voice. Lips by his ear. The fresh clean scent of soap.
The shit his mind keeps spitting at him isn't what he wants.
As much as he tries to think of Hiraga, and only Hiraga, his brain keeps turning to Roberto. And straitjackets. But mostly Roberto.
This isn't what he planned to get off to tonight.
Compromise. Maybe. Let his mind have the restraint, the straitjacket keeping him wrapped up tight. Fine. It's a study. An experiment. For, uh, scientific purposes, sure. Who gives a fuck. Just keep those small hands, those slim fingers, think of Hiraga, and not someone else, not that guy, not –
But he can't stop thinking of broad palms, thick-knuckled fingers opening him like a book, and hands seeking and prodding and opening. Lauren knows he would push him away if he could. He would give him a piece of his mind if he could.
And maybe he'll do exactly that –
But suddenly, in the dark of his mind, his mouth is covered, and he can't say a thing. Can't make any sound except muffled angry huffs. The rag is damp in his mouth, and he hears some smart-ass comment about, oh, sorry, what was that you were trying to say? Could you repeat it?
Fuck this, Lauren thinks, and fuck you. No matter how tight he squeezes his eyes and prods at his imagination, no matter how he tries to think of someone else, all he can picture is him. All he can smell is earthy musk and all he can feel is brown hair brushing his cheek and wide fingers easing him open no matter if he wants it or not.
The worst part is, he does want it, all of it.
But then he imagines Hiraga's voice again, soft by his ear, whispering for him to be patient. And he visualizes a slim hand coiling around his cock as Roberto's fingers curve inside of him and oh, fuck, that's it, he can't make this last, that's –
More than enough.
He's left dazed and panting and a little bit disgusted.
As he cleans away the mess he'd spilled into his hand, Lauren tells himself that it would have been perfect if it weren't for the addition that he hadn't planned for, the extra bit of detritus that his brain threw at him.
The fact that didn't last half as long as he usually can says otherwise.