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“Do you want help unpacking the last of the boxes?”
TK looks up. He’s curled into the corner of the couch in one of Carlos’ hoodies, with a glass of sparkling water on a coaster next to him and his phone in his hand. Slowly, his face breaks into a smile. “Is that your nice way of saying TK, if those last three boxes live in my bedroom for one more day I’m breaking up with you?”
Carlos laughs and walks over to him. He braces his hand on the arm of the sofa so he can lean down and press a kiss to TK’s lips. TK tilts his chin up eagerly to meet it. He loves being kissed, and Carlos loves being the one to indulge him. “I’m not gonna break up with you. But if those last three boxes live in our bedroom for one more day I might become so unpleasant that you’ll break up with me.”
TK just grins at him, sweet and mischievous.
Carlos pats him on the arm. “C’mon. Up you get.”
“Fine.” TK sighs, loudly and performatively put-upon, but he gets up and follows Carlos up the stairs. He stomps his feet just a teeny bit and the only thing that annoys Carlos is how stupidly charming he finds this man when he’s pouting.
He lifts the smallest of the boxes off the floor next to the dresser and hands it to TK.
“You know the reason these aren’t unpacked yet is because they’re full of stuff I don’t need,” TK says, as he carries it over to the bed and sits down on the edge of the mattress. “Old toys and yearbooks and shit.”
“So we’ll figure out what shit and then find a better place for it than the floor of the bedroom.” Carlos puts the second box on the top of the dresser and lifts the cardboard flaps. True to TK’s words, he’s met with the sight of a stack of yearbooks from a junior high school in Manhattan.
“Oh my god.”
Carlos looks over, and TK is holding up a tiny yellow sleeper with cartoon lions on it. “Was that yours?”
“I forgot I even had these. My mom gave me some boxes years ago when she was moving apartments, I don’t think I ever even went through them.”
Carlos smiles at him as TK looks at it and laughs, and then rummages through the rest of the equally tiny clothes in the box.
“This could go in the garage, I guess. I don’t know what else to do with them.”
“Sure, there’s space on the shelves.”
TK folds the flaps back and lifts the box up, carrying it into the hallway. While he’s gone, Carlos removes some of the yearbooks and finds other random mementos underneath them – TK’s high-school diploma, his certificate of graduation from firefighter college, some sort of athletic medal with a red ribbon. Then something turquoise catches his eye, and Carlos digs a little deeper, curiously.
He doesn’t know what he was expecting to find but what he does is probably the last thing that would have been on his mental list, if he’d made one. He pulls gently at fabric and extracts a pair of women's underwear.
Carlos holds them up as TK walks back into the room. Chuckling, he asks, “Dude, did you hook up with a woman once and keep a trophy?”
TK freezes. Carlos watches, the smile slipping off his face in sudden confusion as the look on TK’s face catches him off guard. TK is staring at the garment in Carlos’ hand with wide eyes and a slackened mouth. Carlos frowns. He had been expecting a funny story from TK’s college days in one of the wildest cities in the world, not … whatever this is.
“Babe?” he asks, immediately concerned.
“Where did you find that?” TK breathes.
Carlos gestures at the box. He’s still holding the panties and suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be, but he doesn’t know what else to do with them.
“TK?”
TK shakes his head and moves, suddenly rushing over toward Carlos and snatching the panties from his hand. He shoves them roughly into the pocket of the hoodie he’s wearing. In short tones, he says, “It doesn’t matter.”
“What doesn’t matter?”
TK won’t look at him. His cheeks are red and his brow is furrowed in a way that in any other situation, Carlos would find relatively adorable. In this situation, it put a terrible pit in his stomach.
“I’ll do the rest of it myself.” TK crouches down and grabs for the last box, intentionally avoiding Carlos’ eyes as he takes it back toward the bed.
“What?”
“I don’t need your help, Carlos,” TK says loudly, nearly shouting. “It’s unpacking boxes, not brain surgery. Everybody thinks I’m so fucking helpless.”
“I don’t think you’re helpless. What are you talking about?”
“Just go.”
Carlos doesn’t go. He takes in the tense line of TK’s shoulders, the stiffness of his posture, the way his hands tremble as he opens the box, the way Carlos can tell he’s fighting with himself to keep from looking over his shoulder to check whether Carlos is still standing there.
Carefully, Carlos moves towards him. He puts his hands on TK’s hips, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry.”
Unexpectedly, TK turns around. His beautiful eyes are sparkling with tears, and Carlos feels his heart break underneath his twinge of painful surprise, because moments ago TK was smiling and Carlos doesn’t know how this went south so quickly. He promised Captain Strand he would take care of his son; Captain Strand brushed it off but Carlos promised him, and now he’s made him cry. Carlos brushes his knuckles along TK’s cheek as a few tears spill over and his quivering lower lip is just about the most devastating thing Carlos has ever seen.
TK’s mouth opens but he doesn’t seem to be able to speak. He shakes his head and Carlos pulls him into a hug, feeling TK shake in his arms and clenching his jaw to keep his own emotions at bay. Nothing in the world makes him want to burst into tears like seeing TK this upset, especially when it’s clearly Carlos’ fault somehow and he still has no clue what he’s done to cause this.
“Come on.” Carlos guides them towards their bed, helping TK onto the mattress so Carlos can hold him while he sniffles and clutches at handfuls of Carlos’ shirt. The offending object is still bunched in TK’s pocket; Carlos can feel the soft bump of it against his hip as TK burrows into him.
“I’m here,” he murmurs; unnecessarily, TK knows he is, but he doesn’t know what else to say. Carlos has developed the skill of calming TK down when he’s hurting but in order to do that, Carlos needs to know what’s wrong, and this time he doesn’t. He strokes TK’s hair and waits for him to quiet.
In a minute or so, TK’s breathing evens out. Carlos rolls them, gently nudging TK over so Carlos can get onto his side to see TK’s face. TK turns his nose into the pillow and keeps his eyes closed, so Carlos hooks a bent finger underneath his chin, wordlessly asking TK to look at him. TK does, his eyes still shining and red-rimmed.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Carlos asks.
TK licks his lips. “They’re mine.”
“Okay.” Carlos nods and waits for TK to continue.
TK frowns at him. “You don’t … think that’s weird?”
“No.” Carlos frowns too, confused at what TK’s asking.
There is suspicion on TK’s face. His eyes track back and forth between Carlos’ like he’s searching for a lie he thinks he’ll be able to detect on Carlos’ face. “Really?”
“I still don’t really know what you’re talking about,” Carlos says tentatively. “What I’m supposed to find weird.”
“I used to wear them, sometimes. A long time ago.”
“Alright. Then, no, I don’t think that’s weird,” Carlos confirms. “Clothes are clothes, who cares what gender they’re supposed to be for?”
A few more tears spill down onto the pillowcase, and it’s difficult to read everything that’s happening on TK’s face but Carlos knows him well enough to extract at least one piece of pertinent information.
He cups TK’s warm cheek in his hand and sadly asks, “TK, who made you feel like it was weird?”
“His name was James. We were 20, at the academy in New York.”
Carlos nods. TK’s eyes are focused on a spot somewhere around Carlos’ collarbone, so Carlos just strokes his cheek and gives him time.
“He insisted he was straight, but he loved fucking me. As long as I prepped myself and he could do it from behind and I promised not to tell anybody.”
“What a piece of shit,” Carlos mutters, unable to keep it inside.
“He never kissed me or cared if I came.” TK huffs and shakes his head with a sad smile. “He was a piece of shit.”
Carlos tugs at TK’s sleeve. He gets TK wrapped up back in his arms, so TK can hide his face in Carlos’ neck. He kisses TK’s temple and whispers, “Love you.”
“I liked wearing them, sometimes,” TK continues, after a moment and a shaky inhale. “I had a few pairs. Not all the time, but … I don’t know, I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Carlos says immediately.
“He thought so. He pulled me into a closet on campus one afternoon, he’d never done that before. He always pretended he barely knew me when we were in public.”
Carlos’ stomach churns.
“Stuck his hand down my pants. I’d forgotten I was wearing them. I wouldn’t have been, if I’d known he was gonna do that.”
Petting his fingers through TK’s hair, Carlos kisses the side of his face again.
“He laughed at me. Called me … well. You can guess what he called me. Said something about how I moaned like a whore anyway so at least now I had the uniform.”
“I’m so sorry,” Carlos whispers, at the same time as he struggles to swallow the rage that bubbles inside him. He wants to demand TK give him the man’s full name and last known address so Carlos can track him down and make it look like an accident.
“We didn’t hook up anymore after that. And I didn’t … wear them, anymore.”
Carlos’ eyes close. He hugs TK a little tighter, throat clicking as he swallows.
“I threw most of them away. Kept those ones because they were my favorite but I shoved them in a box and forgot about them until today.”
Carlos slides his hand down TK’s arm, tentatively going for his pocket. He moves slowly, giving TK ample time to stop him, and when TK doesn’t, Carlos pulls the panties out.
He holds them up, examining them while TK breathes against him. They’re greenish blue, pale and shiny with a delicate lacy trim. The material is almost impossibly soft; slippery between Carlos’ fingers. It isn’t something Carlos has ever been into, or ever thought he would be into, but looking at them now stirs something inside him. The idea of TK wearing these and nothing else sets a tiny fire of desire in Carlos’ gut.
“You really don’t think it’s weird?” TK whispers.
Carlos gathers the panties in his fist and pushes them back into TK’s pocket. He’s not going to ask. Not right now, not while TK is still upset and a past wound has been so freshly reopened. But Carlos isn’t sure how long he’s going to be able to last before he’s begging TK to show them off for him.
“I think you should wear whatever the hell you want, and people should mind their business about it. And I bet you look beautiful in them. Bet they make your eyes look like the ocean.”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“I’m sorry someone made you feel so awful about something you liked.” Carlos tilts TK’s face up, needing to see his eyes, and smiles at him when TK’s still-sparkling gaze meets his. He leans forward and kisses TK’s lips, a slow press of their mouths together that Carlos feels spreading along his extremities.
“Should we finish unpacking?” TK asks.
“If you want. I’m good to just lie here for a bit longer.”
TK nods and snuggles back into him.
Carlos lasts three days.
He’s impressed with himself, really. It’s a lot more restraint than he would have predicted. He’d watched, on Saturday, as TK had folded the underwear and tucked them away in the back of the drawer that holds their boxers. Not locking them away in a box and banishing them to the garage where they might never see the light of day again, but hidden underneath other pairs where they can’t be spotted unless he was purposely trying to find them. A safe medium, Carlos figures, and he’d kept TK close to him for the rest of the evening. Held his hand while they ate dinner, kissed him so many times he missed half of the movie they watched, so that TK would know he’s loved and desired and protected.
Internally, Carlos thinks of little else for almost 72 hours.
He imagines it in quiet moments at work, he dreams about it, he thinks about it while TK kisses him and slides carefully into him, wrapped in the soft sheets of their bed. He pictures TK’s smooth, peachy skin, flushed with need and an even more lovely shade of porcelain with the colored satin next to it. He imagines how TK’s body would look, the lace hugging his hips, the cock Carlos has been obsessed with since the first taste lovingly cradled in soft material. He imagines TK in his tight black jeans with just a hint of lace poking out over the top of them, a tease designed just for Carlos while they’re out of the house and Carlos can’t rip them off of him. He wonders if TK would let himself be dressed in other pretty things – jewelry with more sparkle, something flowy and made of silk, maybe the type of lingerie that puts strips of fabric around his thick thighs. Carlos doesn’t know the names for any of these things but he can picture them, and he puts TK in them in his mind.
TK is beside him on the couch, after dinner. He’s leaned against Carlos’ chest like he often is, Carlos’ arm around him as the TV drones in the background but neither of them are paying much attention to it. TK, Carlos can see, is leaving an emoji-heavy comment on one of Paul’s Instagram posts – the kind where he posts himself shirtless and glistening just so that he can pretend to be surprised by the barrage of compliments. TK’s reply, Carlos notices, is complete with hearts and eggplants and water droplets.
Realizing he’s being watched, TK looks up and grins. “I promise they’re platonic eggplants.”
Carlos laughs softly. “I know. Tell him he looks hot, from me.”
TK does as he asks. When he sets his phone down onto the arm of the sofa, Carlos shifts, unexpected nerves suddenly sparking inside him.
“Hey, so …”
“So?”
“Can I see them? On you?”
TK doesn’t ask what he’s referring to, which betrays to Carlos what he’d suspected – that TK’s been thinking about it as much as Carlos has, these last few days. Quietly, he asks, “Why?”
Carlos answers his question with a question. “Why did you like wearing them?”
TK shrugs and in a small voice, says, “I don’t know. Made me feel … special. Dolled up.”
“That’s why.” Carlos presses a long kiss to his forehead and tries to channel his anger at the man who made TK feel small and ashamed into loving him instead; making him feel just the opposite. Carlos wants TK to feel cherished, because he is. “I hate that someone took that away from you. Maybe I can give it back.”
“You’re not into it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you wouldn’t have said it that way, if you were,” TK sighs. “You would’ve said you wanted to see it. Not that you wanted to give it to me.”
“Both of those things can be true,” Carlos argues. “I do wanna see it. You. Just as dolled up and pretty as you want.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“TK,” Carlos says, a little firmer. He takes TK’s cheek into his hand, lifts his head up so he can look into shining green eyes. “If you don’t want to, please just say that. You don’t need to project it onto me.”
TK blinks at him, doe eyed.
Carlos admits, “I’m telling you the truth. I kind of … can’t stop thinking about it. Picturing them on you.”
Slowly, TK’s lips curve into a small smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Carlos nods. “If it’s even half as hot as I’m imagining, I’m not letting you out of bed for the next two days.”
He watches as TK’s eyes darken and Carlos surges forward and kisses him, turning it instantly deep and devouring. He licks into TK’s mouth, TK’s tongue playful and warm next to his. TK moans softly and holds him closer, Carlos suddenly so turned on he almost wants to just push TK back into the couch and finish this right here because the staircase suddenly seems like a mountain that Carlos is too aroused to climb. But only almost, because he’s been consumed with thoughts of TK in satin for three days and he might never get a good night’s sleep again if he doesn’t scratch this itch.
“Come on,” he murmurs into TK’s lips, giving him another kiss or two and then pulling him up off the couch.
TK follows closely behind him, Carlos holding his hand on the way up the stairs and down the hallway toward their bedroom. He shuts the door behind them and watches as TK walks in the direction of the dresser but then pauses halfway there. Carlos goes to him, wrapping his arms around TK’s waist from behind and kissing his cheek.
“Are you sure you want this?” TK whispers.
“You are already the sexiest man I’ve ever seen,” Carlos tells him honestly. He lets his hand travel, rubbing low on TK’s belly, dipping his fingertips just for a moment underneath the waistband of his jeans. “You in something pretty is gonna take me a week to recover from, I know it. But if you’re not sure, then we don’t have to.”
TK leans back against him and for a moment he’s quiet. Carlos lets him take his time, lets him sort out everything he’s feeling and kisses his neck. Then TK moves, extracting himself from Carlos’ arms. He opens the drawer and fishes the panties out of it, smiling tentatively at Carlos as he passes by him on his way to the bathroom.
Carlos blows out an overwhelmed breath as soon as he’s alone. His heart is beating so fast and he’s more than half-hard in his own pants even though absolutely nothing has touched his cock. He does, as he stands there. He palms himself through his jeans and then removes them, leaving them and his t-shirt folded on the top of the dresser. He doesn’t know what to do with himself so he sits on the edge of the bed with his hands curled into fists, pinpricks of anticipation on his skin.
TK’s gone a little longer than Carlos is expecting. He touches himself a little more through his boxers, just for something to do with his hands, but he stops the instant he hears soft footsteps. He looks up across the dimly lit room and sees TK peeking around the doorframe.
The arm and half of his chest that Carlos can see are bare, and his brow is furrowed yet again. He looks unsure, and Carlos wants to run over to him and wrap TK up in his arms, soothe away all his worries with kisses.
“Hey,” he says, instead.
“Hi,” TK answers, smiling shyly.
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay. A little nervous.”
“Can I see you?”
TK nods. He steps out from behind the wall and steals all the breath from Carlos’ lungs. He walks, the room filled suddenly with thick silence, until he’s standing before Carlos, an absolute dream in aqua satin. Carlos reaches out with shaking hands, palms sliding up TK’s smooth thighs, soft skin and just the barest dusting of hair, until his fingers find lace.
“Baby,” comes out of his mouth in a rush of breath. The waistband sits so low on TK’s abdomen, barely covering him at all, the shadow of trimmed hair peeking out over the top of it. “Baby, look at you.”
TK exhales slowly.
There’s so many things Carlos should be saying. He should be lavishing TK in praise, reciting sonnets about how gorgeous he looks, how much Carlos loves him, how much Carlos wants him, but he can’t. He’s lost, his thoughts ricocheting around his brain like it’s a pinball machine. He curls his hands possessively around TK’s thighs and leans forward, rubbing his nose along the silky material barely covering the jut of TK’s hip. He inhales deeply, the scent of soap and TK and arousal filling his nostrils and leaving him delirious.
“I guess the reviews are good?” TK asks quietly, with his hand petting over Carlos’ hair.
Carlos blinks up at him, sure he looks stupid and incoherent but too turned on to mind. He slides his right hand over the panties, cupping TK through them. Rubbing him, feeling the heat and the ridges underneath his palm.
“You look beautiful,” Carlos whispers to him, taking TK’s charming tease and turning it back serious, because he does. He looks beautiful, and he’s so precious to Carlos, more than he could ever say in words. He’s never been good with words anyway.
“Thank you,” TK whispers back.
Carlos touches him again, enraptured by the way the fabric catches the light from the lamp on his bedside table. TK is hard inside them and the thin fabric does nothing to hide it, framing the outline of his cock like it’s a masterwork of art. Carlos dips his head forward again and wraps his lips around the head, sucking at him through the panties and moaning around it when TK’s hand tightens in his hair.
“What do you wanna do?”
Carlos doesn’t answer. He stands on shaking legs and reverses their positions, guiding TK to the bed. TK scootches up toward the head of it and lays back, head against the pillows and one arm draped over his head. He bends one knee, opening his hips so Carlos can see all of him, and he loses the ability to breathe for another moment or two.
“Baby,” he murmurs.
“You said that already.”
“Kind of can’t find any other words,” Carlos admits, shaking his head in disbelief. “Pretty sure if I spoke 50 languages I wouldn’t have the words to say how perfect you look.”
TK giggles softly, cheeks pink and eyes dancing. His gaze lowers pointedly, eyebrows raising as he looks at Carlos’ lower half and his mouth remaining in a playful smile. Carlos shoves his underwear down and off so that TK can see how hard he is and then he gets onto the bed, kissing up TK’s legs as he crawls. His head spins as he comes face-to-face with the panties again, ducking down to kiss the wet spot of saliva and precome that’s darkening the satin.
Gently, he tugs them sideways so that he can get his mouth on the bare head of TK’s cock, groaning at the taste of him as it slides over Carlos’ tongue. TK holds his hair as Carlos sucks him; soft, contented moans becoming their soundtrack as Carlos bobs his head and rubs his thumb obsessively over the fabric, pressing into TK’s balls and lower.
“Carlos,” TK gasps, when Carlos presses up underneath the sac and digs his thumb in.
“Love the way you taste,” Carlos mumbles, stopping only long enough to tug a little rougher at the panties. He hears the cracking of seams but he can barely spare a thought for it, letting TK’s cock slide further into his mouth until he has to close his eyes to breathe around it.
TK’s fingers grip his hair and his hips buck up into Carlos’ mouth before falling back against the bed with a breathless laugh.
Carlos smacks his hip gently. “Turn over,” he says, his voice coming out as a possessive growl. He feels out of control, wants to do so many things to TK right now that he can’t decide which path to follow.
TK rolls over obediently, his ass an absolute vision in the snug, delicate panties, and Carlos hears himself growl again. He brushes his nose along the space between the cheeks, wanting to feel the soft fabric against his skin again.
“He was wrong,” Carlos says in a low voice, surprised at how possessive he feels seeing TK like this. “All of them were, every single jerk who made you feel like you’re anything less than perfect.”
He pulls the panties down and uses his thumbs to split TK open. He presses his tongue to TK’s hole, feeling it quiver as he licks slowly. The warm scent of arousal is so thick, here, and TK whimpers beautifully as Carlos licks at him until he’s slick and relaxed enough for Carlos to press the tip of his tongue inside.
“Baby,” TK whines, trying to push back against Carlos’ face and down against the mattress at the same time.
“The thing is?” Carlos continues, dizzy with arousal as he speaks into TK’s skin, lets him feel the vibration of it. “I can’t really be that mad at them, because their loss is the reason you’re here with me, instead. You’re all mine because they were too stupid to know what they had.”
TK squirms and Carlos swirls his tongue and presses TK’s hips down with his hands, encouraging him to move. He sits back just for a moment, just to watch the way TK’s body rolls and listen to the cadence of stuttered gasps.
Carlos sucks his own forefinger into his mouth to wet it and then pushes it slowly into TK’s body, watching with his cock absolutely throbbing between his legs as TK’s entrance greedily swallows it up. He bends it, petting the walls inside, finding the place that will make TK see stars when he rubs against it.
“Fuck,” TK cries. Carlos should work him up to it, should be dragging it out and teasing him and pleasuring him slowly but he can’t seem to get a grip on himself.
“Let me hear you.”
“Feels so good, baby. Please don’t stop.”
“Oh, I won’t. You’re gonna come like this,” Carlos tells him, in a desperate, needy rasp. “Just like this, with my mouth on you. Fucking the mattress, all needy. Get these pretty things all dirty.”
TK says his name again on a broken moan as Carlos ducks back down to slide his tongue alongside his finger. He works in a second as TK trembles, so that he can spread TK open and lick between them. TK moves incessantly, hips rolling against the mattress as if he can’t stop them. Carlos licks into him until his jaw aches and doesn’t stop, high on the way TK’s moving and the breathless, broken whimpers that fill the room.
He’s quiet when he comes but he shakes, back arching and thighs trembling as the orgasm travels through him. Carlos rests his forehead on the small of TK’s back and just listens to him breathe, feels the way his hips still press into the mattress long after the rest of him has stilled. Carlos reaches between his own legs and squeezes his burning hot erection, struggling to breathe himself.
“Carlos,” TK says, in the smallest whisper, and Carlos kisses his back and pulls the panties back up before he helps TK turn over.
He surveys the damage, licking his lips hungrily as he takes in the sight of the fine material stained with TK’s release, and a tear in the lace on one side. His softened cock is still sheathed in them, sticky and wet now, and Carlos can’t seem to help the heavy, possessive way that makes him feel. Nobody else has ever had TK like this, and nobody ever will again. He gave it to Carlos, so sweetly and so bravely, so it belongs to Carlos now. They both have their pasts, but this is just theirs.
Carlos crawls back up his body, kissing as he goes, and TK grabs for his face so their mouths can slide together. Carlos should definitely brush his teeth first but TK doesn’t let him, TK moans as their tongues tangle, and it adds to the weight of the moment as Carlos drops his hips and his aching cock drags through the mess TK left on his own stomach.
“Want me to ride you with these still on?” TK asks, and Carlos groans wantonly.
“Fuck. Yeah, please.”
“You already ripped them, so.”
Carlos laughs softly. “I’m sorry.”
“Good thing they’re old and weren’t expensive.”
“You said they were your favorite.”
TK doesn’t respond. He rolls them, landing on top of Carlos and fumbling blindly for the lube they keep in the drawer on Carlos’ side of the bed. He makes a triumphant noise as he locates it. He hands it to Carlos and then he frowns, and Carlos raises his eyebrows in question but TK just shakes his head and pops up off of him. He leaves the room quickly, holding up a finger to indicate he’ll be back.
Carlos exhales and scrubs his hands over his face. He’s so hard against his own hip, he thinks if he touched himself right now he might explode so he doesn’t. Instead he props some pillows up against the headboard and reclines comfortably against them, waiting for his boyfriend to return.
TK appears back in the doorway with a pair of red-handled scissors in his hand. He stands next to Carlos and hands them over, and then turns around. It takes Carlos a moment to figure out what TK’s asking for, and when he realizes, he swears softly and feels a thick pulse of further arousal deep in his pelvis.
“Already ripped anyway, like I said,” TK says, with a half-shrug and a smile at Carlos over his shoulder.
Carlos sits up a little straighter. Carefully – rendered breathless with the magnitude of how much TK trusts him – he holds TK’s hip in his left hand and with his right, uses the tips of the blades to slice a slit into the back of the panties.
TK turns when he’s done, watching as Carlos sets the scissors down onto the nightstand and then reaches for his hand, helping TK straddle his lap. TK picks up the lube and squeezes some of it into his hand, warming it between his palms before spreading it over Carlos’ cock.
His hand feels so much better than it should, and Carlos moans and drops his head back. When he looks back up, TK is smiling at him with a funny twinkle in his eye.
“Feels good,” he says, with an embarrassed laugh.
“Good.” TK kisses him, and Carlos takes his hips and helps him lift up to his knees.
He reaches behind TK, inhaling sharply at how sexy it feels to find the hole in the back of the panties with his fingertips and guide his cock through it and into TK’s warm body. TK always wants this part faster than Carlos does, always wants to rush when Carlos wants him to slow down and take it carefully, but this time TK wins that battle before it’s even begun. In one fluid motion he sinks down, panting as he does, until he’s sitting in Carlos’ lap.
He curses and laughs breathily and his eyes twinkle again as they meet Carlos’.
“What?” Carlos asks.
“You’ve got this … look on your face, right now. Kinda … I don’t know. Overwhelmed, maybe.”
Carlos wraps his arm around TK’s back and cups his face. That’s exactly the word for what he’s feeling. “Thank you so much for trusting me.”
TK shrugs and smiles shyly.
“You can always tell me things, okay?” Carlos says, stroking his sweat-damp hair, wishing a little bit that he didn’t want to come so badly because it’s so nice, being buried inside TK like this. Maybe he’ll try to stay in, for a while, after. “Things you like, things you want to try. If I’m into it too, we’ll try it. If I’m not, we can talk about it. There’s no judgment, TK.”
“Even if I want to wear women’s underwear under my uniform?” TK’s voice lilts with the cadence of a joke but Carlos wonders if he’s serious. If he’s testing.
Carlos kisses the corner of his mouth. “Honestly? It’s not something I ever really thought about before but yeah, turns out I would be really, really into that.”
TK smiles, and it’s not shy anymore. He lifts his hips and rolls them, and Carlos moans into his mouth.
“What is this?”
Carlos looks up as TK walks toward him in the kitchen. He’s holding the white box Carlos had left on his pillow, while TK was at work this afternoon. He leans his elbows onto the kitchen island as TK approaches and sets the box down between them.
“Open it.”
TK eyes him suspiciously. He carefully unties the gold ribbon and lifts the lid off the box. The tissue paper inside matches the gold of the ribbon, and TK folds it back. He inhales quietly. Folded neatly inside are five new pairs of panties in varying pastel shades. One is higher waisted than the ones Carlos had ripped a few days ago (the structural integrity of which was so irreparably damaged by the time Carlos had finished with them that they had to be thrown away). One is a thong cut. One comes with what Carlos learned this afternoon are called garters, in a soft pink lace with small, delicate bows.
TK’s eyes are wide and his lips are slightly parted as Carlos shrugs, trying not to feel too self-conscious. “You bought these?”
“Yes.”
“Today? At like – a store?”
“Yes,” Carlos repeats.
“Did a salesperson think you were shopping for your girlfriend?”
Carlos nods, grinning a little at the look of utter delight that’s taken over TK’s gorgeous face.
“Did you correct them?”
His heart had felt like it was beating out of his chest as he’d gathered the courage to tell the woman for my boyfriend, actually, but he’d done it. For a third time, Carlos says, “Yes.”
Smiling and shaking his head, TK steps around the island and practically jumps into Carlos’ arms, kissing him so deeply it takes his breath away.