Extremely questionable PDA

An authority figure in my life (not going to say which one because yikes) and I are spooning on a couch in a very large room that feels sort of like a warehouse or a hangar. Somewhere brightly lit with those suspended fluorescent lights that hang from chains suspended from corrugated metal ceilings. There are plenty of people around, including people we know and one of his close friends, but he is all over me, hands and mouth moving swiftly and surely. Voraciously. I'm surprised at his aggression.

I'm incredulous that it's happening but I am loving it; it feels like it's been a long time coming and the tension has been broken. But I'm worried about being seen because what we are doing is a Very Bad Idea. He doesn't seem to care, though, whatsoever. So I hold up a small red blanket in front of us as if that is going to keep us hidden just enough to keep going. I think to myself that I need to text Amber and tell her this is happening, and almost do so, but then remember that it's rude to use your phone during intimate encounters.

Overly friendly

I have apparently gone to visit my friend James* in the UK. He is living in a huge house that is absolutely bustling with people. Diverse people, in and out, through every room, so much so that we find ourselves unable to procure any place in the house where we can be alone to catch up. Everywhere we go, someone is watching. Even when we go into the bathroom, I realize that the damn door has windows in it for some reason.

I see Fritz asleep on the staircase in what looks to be an incredibly uncomfortable position. I ask James if there's no better place where Fritz can go to sleep, like maybe James' bed, and he hesitates and tells me that even his own bed is in a high-traffic area.

James tells me that it's always like this in the house. People he doesn't know sleeping in beds in shifts, rotating out, lying around on couches and floors, crap piled everywhere. It freaks me out. I ask him how he can live like that, thinking to myself how much I cherish the solitude of my little apartment. He mostly shrugs it off, though I can tell he doesn't exactly love it either, but perhaps has no other choice.

He leans in to kiss me, and I kiss back, except he won't remove his tongue from my mouth, even when I make the "I'm pulling back" head motion/lip tightening action. I keep kissing him, thinking he must just be really into it, or maybe this is a new style of kissing in which you can't breathe or move, but his damned tongue is just a slab of concrete in my mouth, and I find myself really confused by his sudden inability to kiss well.

*Name kind of changed to protect the dream innocent