“Hurry up man, we’re going to be late,” Niv says impatiently as John snoops through a selection of jeans.  “How hard can it be to pick a pair, you fucking git?” 

“Be bloody patient will ya?” John protests as his eyes stay fixed on deciding between designs of cuts. “I wasn’t complaining watching your game of footy, you fucking cripple. ”

Niv had just played an enduring and tough 90 minute match of rugby and was carrying a fractured ankle as a result. 

“Well I am gonna go take a seat then mate,” Niv concedes, patting John on his back as he goes to sit down to rest. 

The day has been long. Getting up at seven am and playing a grueling match of rugby has taken its toll on Niv’s stamina. The weather thundered and rained during the game as well with the field collecting enough mud to be its own wetland. On top of his swelling ankle, Niv had been up the night before heavy on the drink, too, with some raunchy sex from a girl he had been seeing to literally add insult to injury. 

Niv finally drops himself in exhaustion on a seat, falling back onto the thin wooden wall behind him. Closing his eyes Niv tries to forget about the pain biting at his left foot as well as the complete physical burnout his body has suffered through the overtime it’s been put into. 

“Oh man, not fucking Cher. I hate that bitch.” The store’s music suddenly echoes through Niv’s ears. On top of his already progressively slow, horrid day the last thing he needs is Cher’s witch like voice cranking through his mind like a lawn mower plummeting into his skull. “God save me.” 

Niv collapses his head onto his arms as he tries to sustain his sanity. 

Is this hell? Is it? Fuck. 

Suddenly a tap is knocked against Niv’s head like the Reaper has just shown up to take his soul after a night of cheap harvesting. 

“Hey wanker, I am gonna try these on then we’ll be off. I’m sorry to keep you waiting man. I know your foot is killing you.” 

Niv slowly raises his head to answer, tracing his eyes from John’s feet up across his ankles and knees and thighs to his… oh wait, hold on a second.

Barely inches away, John’s crotch holds firm in his dark blue jeans from Niv’s face. Niv can’t help but to notice that he has a growing bulge. It looks hard and pressing, like it’s waiting to spring out like a jack in the box wound up with so much force that he wants to jump for the fucking moon. 

Niv naturally reacts, rubbing his hand up the inside of John’s inner thigh. 

Blushing in guilt, John mumbles.

 “Uh man, uhh I’ll be back ok? Just wait a minute.” His eyes struggle to escape contact with Niv’s. John is nervously managing to keep his own composure. He knows this position from before and where it leads. From when Niv had dug into his fly before and whipped out his growing cock, freeing it from its prison and devouring it whole. 

“Not here. Oh fuck not here,” John thinks as his own stomach rumbles with butterflies. His own body knows full well over his mind that he is simply bullshitting to himself. He suddenly turns and walks away to the closest change room, ignoring Niv whilst trying to