“Oh, Jesus fuck. I mean...”

Hank grabs Alivian’s arm, tries to steer him away from the obnoxiously spinning wheel — with all these people and their mocking ‘insta-prizes’ — but it feels like there are eyes everywhere.

“You’re not pressuring me.” Voice lower now as he fiddles with the stupid tie the resort staff pulled round his neck. “Just not much of an exhibitionist, I guess. Or I wasn’t.”

This place has got him thinking weird things, like: ‘wouldn’t it be nice to fuck in one of those fancy cars in the parking garage?’ Weird stuff like that. Maybe not being seen, specifically, but the possibility of such.

“And here you are, just pulling your shirt off like...”

Hank doesn’t have words, really. He lets his eyes roam, staring at Alivian’s chest. Soon to be donning those precarious nipple clamps, maybe.

Goddamn.

“Let’s just... find a place. A little more private, y’know?”