"I think I woulda caught on," Drake replies, sliding the hand he's got on Jesus' waist down to give his ass a squeeze. Tipsy or not this isn't exactly rocket science. When somebody climbs in his lap and kisses him, even Drake can take that hint.
As for where to end the game of chicken, Drake glances around the bar to see if there's a better spot than they're already in.... and unless there's a back room he doesn't know about?
Right here is more public than he'd anticipated and he looks around, wary even six deep. "Everyone would see." Anyone walking in. Anyone staying and anyone leaving. They're not far from the door.
"They could," Drake says, a small adjustment. Would makes it sound like a sure thing, and there's a good chance most people would walk right past. Either way he's not about to start anything Jesus isn't comfortable with, though, and smooths his hand through the other man's hair reassuringly. "How subtle would you wanna be?"
"Me?" Drake grins, obligingly running his fingers through Jesus' hair again as he leans closer. This isn't the sort of thing you yell over the music. "Extremely. It'd be you who'd have to act like nothing's happening... say you put your coat back on and turned around in my lap, keep your hands where everybody can see. Can you keep 'em from wondering where mine are? What I'm doing to you under all the leather?"
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As for where to end the game of chicken, Drake glances around the bar to see if there's a better spot than they're already in.... and unless there's a back room he doesn't know about?
"Right here?"
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"How would you take me?"
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His hand inches towards his leather duster.