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The Misadventures of the Pink Trousers

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"You know something... It takes a real man to wear pink, Paul Laidlaw," there was a light-hearted jibe from the other man. Paul knew it was in jest, for David often wore pink himself. In fact, he'd even claimed that wearing pink trousers gave him such great fortune when shopping for items on the Antiques Road Trip that Paul thought he might try out the theory for himself - even if he didn't need the luck - after all, he was already over a hundred pounds ahead of his rival. Paul was very good at making money. He was very good at this game; very good indeed - he was and always had been the one to beat. And this was their last day at playing it - and the last day for all that would come with it. It was the last day they would be able to spend time with one another for a while, he thought - forlornly.

"I think you're right about the trousers being lucky," he couldn't help but taunt.

"They're proving too lucky for you, if you ask me!" David grumbled, "I might have to try and get you out of them later." Given how the pair of them had been so obviously flirting for most of the week, that was quite a statement to make, and it didn't take Harper long to realise the double-meaning behind his words - especially when he found Laidlaw staring at him in such a discomposed manner.

Paul had shot a look at David - in return - that was like no look that had gone before. In fact, dangerously so - his eyes were no longer on the road, and an oncoming motorist's horn was a welcome warning to the fact that their baby blue MG Midget was straying over the dashed centre-line. The way that their eyes had locked in that moment, only for a second or so - certainly long enough for them to have accidentally driven through a zebra crossing, taking with them a little old woman who was trying to cross - or perhaps long enough for them to have rear-ended somebody's brand new sports car and left the BBC with an insurance claim for thousands - but not nearly as long as it felt. The way that their eyes had met in that space of time was all that it would take for the couple to be thinking about nothing else all morning.

And, seeing as the scene in question had been in Paul's fantasies for hours - and the last thing he had been able to focus on was buying antiques - somehow, he was in no way surprised when he found his back being thrust up against one of the curio cabinets, and David's hands all over his chest, possessively tugging at the lapels of his dark blue pinstripe jacket. The tranklements within rattled like Tic-Tacs in a plastic container, a loud thud of clothed flesh against glass, followed by the reverberation of several ceramic collectables dancing on their shelves. David snorted like a bull and Paul, in response, whimpered like a frightened calf - not because of the fear of what might happen, but rather the fear of what might not. This wouldn't be easy for either of them - it wouldn't be an easy thing for any two members of the public to get away with - but they were all-too recognisable.

"There's a Beswick cow creamer in here," Laidlaw pointed to the group of trinkets, "Who is never gonny allow this to happen."

And Harper simply had to laugh.

"In all seriousness though, we canny do this," the Scot continued, ruefully, "There must be CCTV everywhere... and people dotted about all over the place."

"There are no cameras covering this corner - I've checked. Why do you think--" David said with a purr, breaking off to run a thumb over Paul's collar, "I've waited so long, eh? And we're all alone in here - I haven't seen another soul."

"What about Mavis?" came a hiss. He was referring to the elderly lady who was manning the counter. They both leaned out of the alcove to catch a glimpse of her, and she was in her own world, going over receipts and paperwork - for all she knew, they were stealing half of the stock.

"What about her?" Harper gave a sharkish grin, "Shall I ask her to join us?"

"Very funny--" Paul's sarcastic protests were interrupted by David's mouth on his neck, sucking, kissing and nipping ever so gently, "--Oh God. Where did you learn to do that?"

"You know what I'm like," the bald-headed man murmured in his ear, allowing his sharp teeth to graze along the edge of it, as light as a tickle, "I have a thirst for knowledge... amongst other things." His voice had become a gravelly whisper, and his lips - interspersed with tiny bites - moved along the Edinburgh man's jaw. David could feel him convulsing beneath him - him not quite knowing what to do, where to go or what to say. He knew Paul well, and he knew that not much time would pass before Paul tried to make a joke in order to break to the tension - so he wouldn't give him the satisfaction; he forced his lips - the same lips that had not long since been teasing his friend's neck - instead - onto his friend's lips, kissing him yearningly. And when Laidlaw allowed his eyes to flutter open, he saw that Harper's pupils were as black as night, full and dilated.

"Where's--" Paul began, stammering and unable to get his breath back, "Where's this come from all of a sudden?"

"You can't lead a man on all week and then ask a question like that," David narrowed his eyes and smiled. In all honesty, Paul had never really been able to work out whether he and his fellow companion had actually been flirting, or just sort-of ribbing each other - and, even if he must admit it to himself now, he'd never truly minded which way the banter was taken, secretly quite happy for David to think that there was a frisson of attraction there. And now he was paying the price. He said that as if there really was some sort of hardship in all of this. There was, in fact, only one thing getting hard.

"I suppose," Paul smirked, thinking that he must have died and gone to heaven as he watched David sink to his knees - watching the other man make himself comfortable on a well-worn Persian rug.

"I told you I was going to get these off," there was a hungry snarl, and the antique dealer began to pull at Paul's belt, much to the auctioneer's delight as he once again clumsily backed into the glass case, lost to his desire. Unfortunately, when David ran a hand over Paul's growing bulge, Laidlaw completely lost all sense of where he was, his mind full of nothing but his need for Harper's touch - and he scooted backwards into the cabinet, but - this time - with much more strength. The structure began to wobble and a Royal Worcester vase fell onto its side, not smashing altogether, but most likely cracking into several pieces - as it made such a deafening sound as it dropped. The pair froze like statues.

"What's going on over there?" Mavis shrilly cried, pushing her chair out from her desk and standing.

Paul's eyes nervously met with David's, as the latter of the two men clambered to his feet. "We are gonny have to pay for that," he said, grievously, pulling his jacket tails over his groin.