And someone had put a pornographic film on the television that no one was interested in nor aroused by.
Except maybe Jeordie.
But he’d been sporting a very-obvious boner for well over an hour before he’d passed out on the floor. So it was difficult to locate where his excitement had actually stemmed.

Brian and Trent both watched the screen intently, albeit dazed.
And Brian was more focused on the blonde star’s greasy hair than the way she were sloppily slobbering on the cock in her mouth. He swore he could see lice moving at some point or another.

“I’d be good at it.”

It takes Brian a prolonged moment to realize that Trent had spoken at all, and after he processes that Trent has, he turns, a brow quirked.
“What?”

“I think I’d be good at it. Giving head.” Trent clarifies, voice quiet and subtly slurred and gaze not lingering from the screen when he adjusts his legs, criss-crossed childishly atop the sofa cushions.

Brian, despite the clarification, remains confused for a short span of time- and rather than to drop the subject completely, his intoxicated brain decides this will be the topic of their conversation, and he furthers it along with an eloquent “Why?”

Trent doesn’t seem to mind, he grins and tucks some fluffy hair behind an ear in a manner nearing shy.
“I-I don’t know-“ he admits with a breathless laugh, amused by his own drunken stupor.
“Well... I know what to- What to do with a dick. Because I have one.” He reasons, and if Brian were sober enough to be witty he’d probably make an “allegedly” comment.

“Girls don’t. But I do. I know what feels good.” The older man continues, almost humorously serious, green eyes trained on the screen and narrowing skeptically as Blondie gets a face-full of spunk.

Brian on the other hand, hadn’t even moved since he’d last spoken, still staring dumbly at the hair Trent had tucked away, attempting to process and calculate what he’d been told and decide if it’s relevant enough to store in his memory for when he’s less inebriated.
“Yeah.” Comes his triumphant return to the social encounter, which is most certainly ignored, because Trent’s already mumbling something about “taste”, rubbing at his forearms.