Elijah unbuttons his trousers and guides Sean's hand inside. The heat that has been crawling along his skin sinks its claws in suddenly, and with a soft grunt, he goes still.

"Like that?" Sean asks, nervousness making his voice crack, and Elijah offers a gentler grunt, nodding quickly.

Sean's hand is so pleasantly firm and wide, despite everything, despite the fact that they're rushing. Pinned together against the bathroom stall wall, Elijah can only bite his lip and move his hips. He rocks counterpoint to Sean's firm, choppy tugs. The heat doubles and spills over, clinging swollen and uncomfortable under his clothes. But the balled up tension is worse, so he can ignore the awkwardness of their situation.

As he gets closer, his belly begins to tense and push into Sean's arm. The breath that cracks and pushes and wriggles in his throat takes on an almost verbal quality, and the hint of noise clearly excites Sean, who begins to squeeze faster.

"Ah," Elijah groans, free hand flying off the stall wall to grip instinctively at Sean's arm as he comes, squeak-whimpering and thrusting into Sean's fist. The wetness is embarrassing, but the uncoiling of pressure is wonderful. A brief smile teases his lips.

Sean's forehead touches his shoulder. They cling for a moment, but don't kiss.

That would be too intimate.