Alcohol isn't his vice of choice.
Never was. He's already a smoker, and doing both always felt like stepping over one of those "arbitrary lines". Running not only compensates for the smoking but clears his mind. Drinking does the opposite.
But straight after yanking the hook out of his hand, he takes another swig from the bottle, not even bothering to wipe the blood from his fingers. He's clammy. He'd developed somewhat of a… phobia. Of blood. Gore.
The gulp was warming so he has another.
"So… I heard you've been doing some work for the agency."
The warmth falls away as quickly as he had swallowed.
He looks at this man before him, a low hum of constant anxiety barely covered by a thin veneer of physical pain and his usual, strange jolliness. Joe smiles faintly.
"So you've been asking around about me."
"Any truth to it?"
Shut it down. He immediately leans in close, tried to give off an air of a man made unusually conversational with the aid of liquid courage.
" Fuck the Agency. Fuck 'em," he announces intensely.
That gets Gordon chuckling. Whatever he had been working up to say, in that moment he clearly chose a different path.
"Man after my own heart."
Gordon throws back a good fifth of the bottle then leans across the table, firmly grabbing Joe by the neck. He freezes.
Joe didn't anticipate the mashing of the lips that followed, and it takes him a good two seconds to respond, yanking his head back and ducking out of his grip, "Woah woah woah, man- Gordon. I'm not, I'm not-"
"Horny? Fuck , I am. I don't even know what triggers it these days," he mutters, slumping back into his seat, staring forlornly at the bottle in his hand.
Joe rubs sweat from the back of his neck. "I was going to say gay, or-"
"You know what? I'm not either. But you were flirting, I've just had a near death experience and my beautiful wife is miles away on solid land."
"Flirting," Joe repeats dumbly.
"Hmm," Gordon grunts, no longer paying attention. He turns the hook over between his fingers.
Hours later, the empty bottle lies forgotten, having rolled under the table.
Joe lies on his back, half naked on top of the table, supporting his upper body on his elbows while Gordon thrusts into him.
He can handle this he thinks, but he doesn't know how long he can deal with the loud moaning in his ear. He's stopped trying to lean his ear away since the time it was taken as an attempt to kiss him.
He's not remotely hard either, his erection having flagged the moment he started actually getting fucked by a man for the first time. Not that Gordon has noticed, and not that Joe cares for him to notice. He's not looking to come, he was looking for a break from the increasingly difficult questions the increasingly drunk Gordon had been throwing at him- not out of any ulterior motive, likely just out of alcohol driven curiosity. But Joe had panicked and kissed him .
This was why he doesn't drink.
He's sure that when he starts sobering up, he'll be able to come up with twelve ways he could have gotten out of the situation, short of having sex with him.
The pounding speeds up from tense and deep to almost frantic so quickly that it snaps him out of his reverie and Joe has to grip the edges of the table to keep from sliding too far up, and maybe, maybe Gordon's close now-
"Ah… ah, ah-"
The moist heat of Gordon's groans on his ear has him wincing, but only for a second as he realizes that a man just came inside of him. Then he almost grimaces.
It was into a condom of course, but the distinction is negligible in context. That clammy feeling has come back again, and he vaguely understands this is going to come back to bite him. God he's drunk. He feels sick. And heavy. It's the weight of a someone's husband literally collapsed on top of him.
"Did you come?" he pants in his ear. Joe weakly jerks his head.
"Yeah," he lies. A little white one, in comparison.
"Uh… he's erratic, he's emotional. He's bad with money. The perfect candidate for recruitment by a foreign power."
The sounds of an unsuspecting woman's moans coming from the monitor is undermining what might have been a very serious conversation. Joe watches as she watches her computer. He's gathering that she may be a bit of a pervert. Or has some type of emotional issue.
"Make plans to meet him again."
"I'm out of my element," he says quickly by way of rejection.
She smirks up at him. "You're a natural. You're pushing him, but gently. 'What can a couple-"
Joe exhales, closes his eyes slightly.
" -of guys like us do about it? That was smart."
Obviously they had bugged the boat. Obviously. The tinny moans are suddenly making him feel slightly ill. If they had heard that, they had observed everything else too.
"... I had no idea married people fucked this often." She peers at the screen intently over the rim of a mug of coffee.