Sweet Dreams (слэш)

Reality’s spinning, the air’s too close. Smoky and sticky and imbued with a sort of humid fury.
He’s off his face, in a way he doesn’t think he’s been for years. Drowning in the febrile atmosphere of the sort of dangerous night in a rundown pub he remembers from the sordid desperation of his youth. Nights that ended up with scuffed leather trousers shoved around ankles in the filth of the men’s room, or blood and bruises and broken ribs in the gutter outside.
The sort of messy night he really should know to stay the fuck away from.
But instead, he’s backed up in the shadows, against the dusty rough brick wall of a dingy back alleyway, trousers open and cock out. With an eager, gorgeous kid on his knees on the cracked concrete kerb in front of him.