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Robbie flopped down in his usual place and gave a vast sigh of contentment. A lager, a match on the telly, his best mate-- who, right on cue, came along and flopped down in that boneless way of his. Then, not according to the script, or at least not the one Lewis was following, Hathaway flung his long leg up and over Lewis' knee.
"Gerroff!" said Lewis, more bemused than anything else. "What do you think you're doing?" James gave him his best deadpan.
"Seducing you, sir."
Lewis goggled.
"Are you taking the piss?"
Hathaway raised his eyebrows as if to say, Why don't you find out.
"Anyway," sputtered Lewis --who still had not made the least move to shove what felt like 40 pounds of leg-shank off him, nor extricate himself from underneath-- "that's not how you seduce someone."
Hathaway craned his head to cast a deliberate glance into Lewis' lap.
"Isn't it?" he asked, with infuriating mildness.
"Oh, sod off--" said Lewis, trying to untangle his legs enough to cross them. "It's no fair just telling someone you're seducing them. That's bound to provoke a-- reaction."
Hathaway cocked his head. He had the Oh? Tell me more smirk on his face. Lewis knew it well. Every time he brought it out when questioning a subject, Lewis knew they'd be tying themselves in knots within minutes.
"Well it doesn't exactly count as a seduction, does it?" said Lewis irritably. Christ, were Hathaway's legs filled with cement? This one seemed to weigh a ton.
"No," said Hathaway lazily. "But it's a good start."
Lewis stared.
"You're enjoying this!" he accused him. James unsuccessfully bit back a smile.
"I am," he admitted. " Very much." The cheek , thought Lewis.
"Well-- stop it!"
"I'm sorry-- which, sir, enjoying it? Or seducing you?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, James, you're not seducing me--" Lewis finally managed to wriggle one hand under Hathaway's knee, trying to find some leverage without-- feeling-- the dense muscles there flexing under the fine wool of his trousers. Damn the lad for rowing all the time! James didn't struggle, but instead went maddeningly floppy, and somehow --Lewis never quite managed to figure it out afterwards, but he strongly suspected judo was involved-- some how the end result was James squashed up against the arm of the couch, the one leg tucked up like a frog, the other splayed out wide, and Lewis --through no fault of his own, on that at least he was clear-- in the perilous space between. His hand was still flat-- well, gripping, if we're being honest-- that round thigh. Their cocks were absolutely not touching, but in fairness, you could say they were close enough to tip their hats.
James, having lost none of his insouciance despite acquiring a slight quickening of breath, tilted his hips in a way that brought the two newly-acquainted appendages frighteningly close.
" Not seducing you, sir?" he said.
"James, you bloody bastard," said Lewis, "if you don't stop calling me sir--"
James let his eyelids fall half-shut as he stretched langorously under Lewis' weight.
"I know you like it," he said. Which was entirely beside the point.
And then his eyes shut all the way, and he lay there, utterly relaxed, his mouth just slightly open-- not, Lewis noted grimly, in the fallen asleep on the train way, but in the I'm waiting for you to kiss me way.
"Fine," said Lewis, "Fine, fine, fine. But this is the stupidest seduction--"
"Alright," murmured James, eyes still shut as if he had not a care in the world. "If you're such an expert--"
And Lewis, exasperated, shut him up the only way he knew how.