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Kris is running a little late.

Okay, that's an understatement. Kris is two and a half hours late for his neighbor's party and he hasn't even showered yet.

He'd tried to sneak out of work early—Meg had agreed to cover for him just in case his boss came looking. But then his boss had walked by making his the-sky-is-falling face, and Kris had felt so bad for him he'd stayed a full hour past the end of his shift, helping him get ready for tomorrow's meeting.

Anyway, why he's late doesn't matter. What matters is that Kris can hear a dozen voices shouting and laughing through Cassidy's door as he runs past and slams into his own apartment. If he's already missed his chance….

He takes the quickest shower of his life, slows down long enough to shave without slitting his throat, and pulls on his nicest khakis, a button down shirt, and the rust-colored blazer his mama bought him last year. The mirror tells him he looks good. Not great—he shouldn't have let that new barber try the 'hot new L.A. trend' on him. But he looks good.

He hopes it's good enough.

Kris grabs the bottle of wine from his fridge, locks his door behind him, and knocks on Cassidy's door.

The door swings open, and a short man dressed in a pink flapper dress and lace gloves grins at him. "Hey, Kris, come on in!" he chirps in falsetto.

"Hey, Tommy," Kris says automatically. This is a new look on Tommy—both the dress and the long blonde wig—but Kris isn't actually surprised. Over the last two months, he's gotten used to his new neighbor's strange hours and strange friends.

"Yo, Cass! Kris is here!" Tommy yells into the room and then reenters the party, leaving Kris at the door.

Kris looks around to see which of Cassidy's friends have come. He sees a lot of dresses, a lot of long hair and bare shoulders, and it takes him about five seconds to realize the people in the living room are all men. Well, he thinks they're all men. As he drifts closer, he decides one or two of them might be women, but he's so thrown off he isn't making any official calls.

Cassidy's invitation suddenly makes a lot more sense.

This is nothing like what he'd expected, but Kris didn't come to this party just to give up and go home. And just because he doesn't see the guy he's looking for, that doesn't mean Adam won't show up later.

Kris sidles up to the guys clustered around the open window, passing a couple joints among them. A man in a blue-sequin cocktail dress winks at him. When Kris squints, he thinks he recognizes Cassidy's unofficial roommate Steve under all the vampy makeup.

Steve pulls him into a hug that almost drags Kris to the floor when Steve's ridiculous, silver-glittered heels catch in the carpeting. Patchouli and pot assault his nose.

"Hey, man. Where's Cassidy?" Kris asks once he's helped Steve find his footing.

Steve burps and jerks his chin to the left. "In the kitchen. If you're going in there, get me another beer. I can't walk in these things."

Kris nods and breaks away from Steve's grip to look for his host.

The kitchen table has been staged for a game of ring toss; every inch of its surface is cluttered with liquor bottles. He finds Cassidy mixing pink and orange liquids in a martini glass. The result looks like orange sherbet. Cassidy raises the drink for a careful sip before giving it an approving smile.

"That looks dangerous," Kris says, certain one spill would stain Cassidy's white leather pants and midriff-bearing halter-top.

Cassidy looks up and beams. "Hey, you made it!" He balances the drink precariously on the mouth of a blue bottle and swoops Kris into a hug.

"Sorry, I got held up at work," Kris mumbles into his shoulder. Cassidy's white feather boa tickles his nose. He puffs to try to keep it out of his mouth.

"You're forgiven." Cassidy pulls back and ruffles Kris's hair, and Kris is glad he didn't waste time styling it before he came over. "Aww, you dressed so nice. For me?" Cassidy teases, eyeing Kris's blazer and loafers.

Kris blushes and folds his arms across his chest. "You told me to dress up to meet the girls," he reminds Cassidy.

Cassidy giggles, throwing a delicate hand over his mouth. "You missed the air quotes! Oh, of course you did." He gives Kris a fond look. "You're totally my favorite neighbor."

Kris rolls his eyes at his own naïveté. "Anyway," he says, and thrusts the bottle of red wine at Cassidy. "Thanks for inviting me."

"My pleasure." Cassidy doesn't bother reading the label before opening the fridge and sticking the wine on the shelf beside a half-dozen other bottles. Kris figures the twist-top cap speaks for itself.

"So, um, is Adam gonna be here tonight?" Kris blurts before he can chicken out.

Cassidy closes the fridge and looks up, surprised. "Adam?" His eyes narrow, a shrewd look crossing his features, and Kris can see Cassidy's brain working it out—why his straight neighbor might be looking for his hot, male friend. After a beat, Cassidy turns his head toward the door and yells, "Hey, Adam!"

Kris flushes hard, pinned by Cassidy's slow-spreading smirk, until someone shouts, "Yeah, what's up?" and Adam struts into the small kitchen.

And…okay, Kris knows what Adam looks like.

Two months ago, he'd seen Adam helping Cassidy move into the apartment down the hall. Cassidy had called his name, and Adam had walked past Kris's door carrying a stack of large boxes. Kris got a view of strong, broad shoulders under a sweat-stained grey t-shirt before Adam disappeared into Cassidy's apartment.

And a few weeks ago, he'd ridden in the elevator with them. Cassidy had made brief introductions. Adam had given Kris a "hey" and a wide smile that cut something loose in Kris's chest before they went their separate ways in the lobby. And Kris had added wild black hair, a black leather jacket, and freckled lips to his mental picture of Adam.

But when Adam walks into the kitchen, he doesn't look anything like Kris remembers.

Kris remembers height, but he's even taller now, moving gracefully on four-inch, red stiletto heels. He's wearing a black mini-dress, the leather band of the hem tight across the tops of his thighs, showing off long, long legs in sheer stockings.

His lips are full and shiny with dark red lipstick, his cheekbones accented by swathes of blush. His eyes are an incandescent blue Kris hadn't noticed before, framed now by impossibly-long eyelashes and purple glitter. An auburn wig falls in waves over his shoulders, and over-sized costume earrings sparkle pink, purple, and blue between the dark strands.

The overall effect isn't convincingly feminine—it's completely captivating.

Kris's stomach does a somersault. His cock does…something else.

Cassidy beckons Adam closer and reintroduces them with an innocent smile. "Adam, this is my neighbor, Kris. Kris, Adam. I've gotta get back out there…." He picks up his cocktail and retreats out of the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

Adam holds out a hand with silver-painted nails and a huge, jewel-encrusted cocktail ring. Kris shakes his hand, and Adam smiles the same sunny smile from the elevator, friendly.

This is Kris's chance; this is what he came for. He has privacy, he has Adam's polite attention, and his sexual-identity confusion from the last few weeks will be for nothing if he doesn't have the guts to ask Adam out right now.

Kris tries to assemble the words, but he can't look away from Adam's glossy lips.

Adam releases his hand and gestures to the alcohol-laden table. "What are you drinking?" he asks.

Kris blinks, takes a breath, and wonders where his manners disappeared to. "Oh, let me," he says, and takes the almost-empty wine glass from Adam's left hand. He opens the fridge and pulls out an open bottle of white. He tries to sound smooth when he says, "Is this what you were drinking," but the French label trips him up.

"That's it," Adam laughs.

Blushing from his pronunciation-fail, Kris refills Adam's glass and turns around to hand it back to him. Adam gives a little curtsy, drawing Kris's gaze back to his legs, his nearly-bare thighs. Adam's legs are shaved under the stockings. Kris desperately wants to touch them.

"Aren't you getting any for yourself?" Adam asks from somewhere above him.

Kris looks up into electric blue eyes. Adam is watching him with an almost lazy tilt to his head, his shoulders loose. There's something indescribably appealing about the slight curve of his waist in that tight dress, and Kris's eyes are back on Adam's body again.

Adam reaches out, tips Kris's chin up with long fingers.

Kris must not get the stupid, lustful expression off his face in time, because Adam's eyes go dark, and his lips part and curl up slow. Without a word, Adam sets his glass down, grabs Kris's wrist, and tows him out the door.

Kris isn't sure where they're going, but at least Adam isn't turning him down before he's even asked. Which is a relief, because Kris really needs to ask him out.

The living room blurs past. Adam's wearing women's high heels, but Kris is the one stumbling on the carpet, unable to watch his feet for the view in front of him. Sweaty shoulders in a tight t-shirt were hot, but this dress scoops all the way down to the dip of Adam's lower back, showing off miles of freckled skin, and the dress's leather hem fits snug under Adam's ass.

Adam pulls him through another doorway, and Kris realizes they're in Cassidy's bathroom. His brain instinctively starts cataloging the similarities to his own unit. And then he hears the door close and the lock click.

He turns, and Adam is staring down at him, looking him over from head to toe. He slowly starts to circle around Kris.

Kris follows him with his eyes, backing up and saying the first thing that comes into his head. "I met you a couple weeks ago, in the elevator. You probably don't remember—"

Adam stoops down and kisses him.

Kris's back hits the bathroom door, and he grabs a fistful of bathrobe in surprise. Adam's mouth is hot against his, his tongue sliding between Kris's lips, and oh fuck, oh fuck, this, this is what he's been fantasizing about and agonizing over for the last two months. Kris moans and tilts his face up.

Adam's hands fall on his shoulders, and he pulls back. Kris blinks his eyes open to see Adam slipping out of his heels and kicking them across the pink fuzzy bathmat. Once they're gone, Adam hauls Kris's chin up again for another kiss. He's still tall, easily six inches on Kris, but the new angle allows Adam's body to slide up against his. Kris arches into him, greedy for more, for everything.

He reaches up to touch Adam's cheek, but Adam catches his wrists and presses them back down at his sides.

"Don't ruin the makeup, baby," Adam whispers against Kris's ear, following the warning with a quick nip.

Kris gasps, "Sorry, I won't, I promise," and turns his head to give Adam's lips and teeth better access to his neck. Kris can't stay completely still, though; he needs to do more than twist his fingers in the terrycloth robe. His hands drift up to hold Adam's waist, gentle in case the dress is delicate, too.

Kris is totally going to ask Adam out. Just as soon as he can concentrate again. Adam's neck smells like perfume, something warm and rich, hay and honey and flowers. Kris's head is spinning; he feels almost drunk with the way Adam is moving against him.

Adam's fingers work quickly, unbuttoning Kris's shirt. He thumbs over Kris's right nipple as his teeth bite his collarbone, and Kris gasps with the dual sensations.

And it finally sinks in that he's having sex with Adam in Cassidy's bathroom. He's been crushing on Adam for weeks, but they've known each other for all of five minutes, and they've hardly spoken to each other. Kris thinks maybe he needs to make a better impression. "I—I like your dress," Kris pants.

"You're sweet," Adam says, nuzzling his cheek as his palms stroke hot over Kris's pectoral and abdominal muscles.

"I wanted to see you tonight," Kris says, wanting Adam to understand that he hopes they'll do this again sometime.

Adam twists on Kris's nipple, sending a shock coursing through him, straight down to his cock. His nipple pebbles up, sensitive, between Adam's fingers. "Did you?" Adam says, not really a question.

Kris nods frantically and presses up for another kiss.

Adam brushes red hair away from his face and slips off one of his garish earrings. Kris wants to suck on the exposed red lobe, the black gauge piercing underneath, but he doesn't want Adam to worry about his makeup—

A jolt of pain lances through him. Kris yelps and pulls back. He looks down to see the clip-on backing of the earring clamped onto his nipple. Adam crowds into him, his dress rubbing against the earring and sending more electric pulses through Kris. Kris shudders with the foreign sensations, his body trembling, breath coming in short gasps. His hands are twisting in Adam's dress, wrinkling the fabric over his hips.

Adam cups Kris's jaw with his long fingers and licks into his mouth. Kris's eyes slip shut, and he moans helplessly under the pain in his chest and the soft pleasure of Adam's tongue.

"Oh, you're so sweet," Adam coos, slipping a hand between them to tweak the earring, making Kris whimper into Adam's mouth. "Yes, just like that. You like it, don't you."

Another non-question, but Kris nods again. He's tense all over, and so hard it hurts, and he will do anything as long as Adam doesn't stop touching him like this.

Adam sighs happily and slides his hand around to the back of Kris's neck. His other hand slips down to the front of Kris's khakis. When the button pops free, Kris holds his breath to keep from begging. He doesn't have to—Adam slides the zipper down and slips his big hand into Kris's boxers. He palms Kris's balls, rubs the inside of his wrist over Kris's leaking cock, and Kris wants to die from that caress alone.

The breath escapes from his lungs as an unexpected "please," and Adam's grip on his neck tightens. Kris gasps, Adam kisses him again, lipstick and saliva slick between their mouths. Adam's grip shifts to wrap around Kris's cock and stroke. "Oh," Kris says, "oh God, please, please," the words tumbling out shameless and needy.

Adam growls and releases his neck to tug on the earring, and Kris flinches and bucks with each searing tug, his cock twitching in Adam's tight hold.

Later, he'll be embarrassed by how fast he comes. But in the moment, all he can do is shudder and jerk and gasp and moan his way through it, the fast strips of Adam's hand and the sharp, stinging flicks to his nipple not letting up until he's wrung out and sagging against the door.

Adam murmurs, "Sweet boy," in his ear and kisses him again and again, soft, short presses of his lips that have Kris craving more, even though he can barely keep his legs under him.

When Adam finally pulls away, Kris has to concentrate on not falling down. His nipple burns, but the rest of his body is humming with lingering pleasure.

A wet, nubby cloth rubs across his lips. Kris pries his eyelids open to see Adam watching him with fond heat as he scrubs a washcloth over Kris's mouth and throat. Adam's lips are kiss-swollen, his lipstick mostly rubbed off, and oh. Kris's fingers find Adam's hip, and he strokes the soft, wrinkled fabric. Adam switches hands and drags the washcloth over Kris's cock and stomach, and Kris shivers at the stimulation.

Adam leans in like he's going to kiss him, paint him red again, but he stops just a millimeter away and says, "What a perfect temptation you are." He throws the washcloth over his shoulder and starts buttoning Kris's shirt from the bottom up, still leaning close, breathing in every breath Kris exhales.

Three buttons up, the shirt brushes over the earring still clamped tight on his nipple, and Kris whimpers. His hands reach up to stop the pain, but Adam bats them away and does up one more button.

"There," he says, and tugs at the lapels of Kris's blazer. "You're gonna keep this on." He straightens the jacket and then smoothes his hands down the front, pressing on the earring and making Kris suck in a sharp breath. "So I can take it off you later."

Kris's face flushes bright red, his nipple throbs, and his cock tries to twitch back to life at that promise. "O-okay," he says, his eyes glued to the freckles he can just make out on Adam's lower lip. He's jerked off countless times to the memory of those freckles, and he's dying for another taste.

Reading his mind, Adam licks his lips and leans in close. But he pulls back at the last instant, teasing Kris and leaving him straining toward Adam. Adam presses him back with a single finger placed right over the damn earring. Kris falls back with a shudder.

Adam smirks. "Go get yourself a drink. And pour me another glass. Please."

Kris hesitates, wanting more of Adam, wanting to touch him and make him feel as good as he made Kris feel. And wanting his phone number most of all. "But what about," he starts, glancing at the erection pressing at the underside of Adam's tight skirt.

Big, he thinks, and blushes even harder.

"You'll take care of that…later," Adam purrs, and steps away, turning to face the mirror.

Kris watches Adam pull a tube of lipstick out of a drawer and lean over the sink to get close to the mirror. The hem of the dress rides up an indecent half-inch. Adam's blue eyes flick up to meet his, still dark with hunger, and Kris fumbles for the doorknob before his khakis become a liability.

He'll get Adam's number. Later.