Work Text:
Carlos runs the water to rinse a few breadcrumbs off his hands. He dries them on the charcoal terry towel hanging from the handle on the oven door. When he’s done he drapes it neatly back in place and then packs the sandwich he’s made into his insulated lunch bag and leaves it on the counter. He used to get take-out for lunch most days, it was just easier than waking up early to prepare a packed meal, but they’re trying to save money. Carlos, in truth, doesn’t think they need to worry about that, but he knows it makes TK feel better.
He crosses the loft, checking his watch as he does. Just a few minutes until the time he’d set in his head last night that they needed to leave, and he hasn’t heard from TK in at least 15 minutes. If he’s still lying in bed messing around on his phone, Carlos is going to be annoyed. Madly in love with him, but annoyed nonetheless.
He’s heading for the bedroom, but movement catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. Carlos turns his head toward it and notices TK’s arm in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, through the gap in the door that’s almost closed but not quite. He heads in that direction instead, until he gets closer and more of TK’s reflection comes into view, and Carlos stops dead in his tracks.
TK is only half dressed. The black short-sleeved button up he wears as part of his uniform – with its stitched-on name tag and departmental insignia – is on and buttoned, but he’s still bottomless. Carlos frowns for a moment as he hovers outside the door, unsure of what TK is doing. He seems to be just staring at himself in the mirror, and he doesn’t seem to have heard Carlos approaching in his socks on the concrete floor. Then TK slowly lifts the bottom of the shirt and all of the breath leaves Carlos’ lungs in one punch. He has to fight to keep himself from making a noise and alerting TK of his presence, which, now that he understands what’s going on, he definitely doesn’t want to do.
On the lower half of TK’s body is nothing but a pair of panties.
They’ve been back together for six weeks. TK’s been here, in the loft and in Carlos’ space and back in his life, for six weeks. At the hospital, TK had half-heartedly suggested maybe he should get his own place, at first, while they rebuilt what they’d lost. Carlos knows him too well. He’d been able to read so easily in TK’s tentative expression that what he was really doing was giving Carlos a way out, to keep him from feeling like he had to let TK move in with him. Into the place Carlos lived alone when it was supposed to be theirs, if Carlos wasn’t ready to forgive him so quickly.
You belong with me, TK. I don’t want you anywhere else, Carlos had told him, sitting next to his hip in a hospital bed and holding his hand, hating all the tubes TK was still connected to and counting down the hours until he could get him out of there and back where he should have been all along.
Two weeks after Carlos moved him in and TK got home from the hospital, Carlos left a box on his pillow, like he had all those months ago at the townhouse.
Those pairs are gone, now. Burned up along with everything else they owned. Carlos hadn’t even realized. He’d been so mired in his own grief, so distracted by his own devastation from all the blame he placed on himself for not being able to keep TK safe, that this particular loss hadn’t crossed his mind until months later after TK moved in. Carlos all but forgot about it until one day, seemingly out of nowhere, he watched TK walk past the end of the bed in his boxers and the memory had come back to him. Carlos returned to the store where he’d purchased them later that day and managed to replace most of them with similar pairs. TK had unwrapped them with Carlos sitting next to him on the bed and then kissed him so hard they both toppled over sideways onto the mattress.
Carlos never asked, if TK had purchased any for himself in the months they’d been apart. He wasn’t sure which answer would make him sadder – to know that TK had carried on by himself with something that had become so intimately theirs, or to know that TK hadn’t treated himself to something he likes because Carlos wasn’t there to make him feel safe about it. So he hadn’t asked.
These ones are a soft buttery yellow and made of a floral lace. They’re high cut – high enough that if TK were only wearing pants without a tucked-in shirt to cover them, they would show overtop of the waistband. Carlos knows that because he’s done just that, before. He’s worn that particular pair around the loft with low-slung sweatpants and no t-shirt, so that Carlos has to witness the yellow lace laid delicately against his pink skin, the elastic that hugs the curve of his lower back. So that Carlos, who knows exactly the way it looks when TK’s wearing them and nothing else, has to live with those images burning behind his eyes while most of what he really wants to see is covered up.
He moves slightly to the side, half so that he can remain concealed outside of the door and half to enhance the angle of his gaze to the mirror. He watches, with blood rushing and pulse quickening, as TK turns, slowly to one side and then the other, examining himself in the mirror. The panties are exquisite on him, the high cut of them conforming tightly to his perk backside and cradling his soft cock in daffodil satin. The cut of his hips seem more feminine, somehow, because the lace rides up high along his waist, and Carlos knows that’s one of the things TK likes the most about this particular pair.
When he can manage to tear his gaze away from TK’s lower half, he finds TK’s face in the mirror. TK’s looking down, taking in the reflection of his own body as he lifts his shirt up even higher to get a better view of everything. Carlos watches as TK’s eyes travel over himself and he draws his bottom lip in to worry for a moment between his teeth with a pensive but unsure expression on his face. Then TK releases his lip and his tongue comes out to lick them before his mouth curves into a small, pleased smile.
Something fluttery happens in Carlos’ stomach as he watches TK ghost light fingertips along yellow lace, making sure the garment is in place before he reaches for the pair of black pants that he’s left folded on the closed lid of the toilet. Carlos turns and hastily tiptoes back to the kitchen. He leans over to rest his elbows on the countertop of the island, clasping his hands. He can feel his heartbeat in them, through the suddenly clammy skin of his palms as he pressed them together. TK’s smile plays like a movie in his mind, soft and a little shy and pleased with his own reflection in the mirror. TK is a confident person; he likes the way he looks and he likes being naked and he’s never been anything close to what Carlos could deem bashful or insecure. But Carlos has never seen him smile quite like that.
His mind races, wondering so many things as he tries to settle his racing pulse so that he won’t look so manic by the time TK comes out of the bathroom that he’ll instantly guess Carlos was spying on him. He wonders how often TK wears them to work. He wonders when that started. He still doesn’t know for sure whether TK’d replaced the ones he lost in the fire, although now, if Carlos had to bet he would guess that TK didn’t. The way TK was looking at himself in the mirror seemed more likely to suggest this was a relatively new thing for him.
Before he can think any more about it, the door to the bathroom slides open and TK emerges, fully dressed with his hair gelled and his shirt neatly tucked in and his chunky black watch around his wrist. He smiles brightly at Carlos as he crosses the room, and Carlos stands up and tries to arrange his facial features into an at least mostly unincriminating expression.
“Ready to go?” TK asks.
Carlos looks at his watch. “Right on time.”
“I know you like being on time,” TK says, with a casual shrug.
“I do,” Carlos agrees. It’s a battle to keep from dropping his gaze toward the middle of TK’s body, because he can vividly picture what the panties look like on him and he could so easily mentally strip TK of his uniform.
TK’s looking at him expectantly and Carlos manages to grab his lunch and rounds the island. TK turns away from him, searching momentarily for his keys, and Carlos has to force himself to look away from TK’s ass because they have to go to work, both of them, and Carlos is fighting against a strong urge to grab TK and toss him down onto the couch and rip that uniform off him.
TK scrolls on his phone in the passenger’s seat. He doesn’t know that Carlos knows this is any different from all the other days they drive to work together, and Carlos grips the steering wheel a little tighter than he otherwise would. At a red light TK drops his phone into his lap and looks over at Carlos with a smile. He reaches for Carlos’ hand, and Carlos gives it to him and watches as TK brings it to his mouth and kisses the back of it.
“You got plans tonight?” he asks, and Carlos shakes his head.
He never has plans that don’t involve TK. Maybe he should, maybe they shouldn’t be quite so attached at the hip, but Carlos lost him for four long months and had to face the possibility he might never get TK back so he thinks he’s entitled to at least a period of doing nothing in his spare time but holding TK and kissing him and laughing with him and doing nothing with him.
“Dinner?” Carlos suggests.
TK nods and kisses his hand again. He keeps it in his lap, both of his hands wrapped around it, as Carlos drives the final few blocks toward the 126. TK lets him go so that he can reach down for his bag. He sends another smile in Carlos’ direction and thanks him for the ride, and he’s about to get out of the car without another word when Carlos can no longer help himself.
He reaches out, grabbing TK by the wrist and pulling him back. TK raises a curious eyebrow but goes easily as Carlos leans across the console and tugs him into a kiss. TK makes a surprised sound against his lips but he melts easily into it as he always does, mouth moving pliantly as Carlos pours a little bit more leftover desperation into it than he means to.
TK laughs softly when it ends, resting his forehead against Carlos’ for a moment. “What was that for?”
“Love you,” is all Carlos says, and TK seems to deem it an acceptable answer.
“Love you, too. See you tonight.”
Carlos nods, and watches as TK exits the vehicle and makes his way in the direction of the open ambulance bay. This time, he allows himself the indulgence of watching the sway of TK’s hips as he walks, the way his ass looks in those snug pants, the way Carlos feels like he has x-ray vision and can see the yellow strips of elastic hugging the small of TK’s back.
He’s distracted all morning.
His partner notices and comments, and Carlos has to spin a lie about a cousin going through a difficult time so that she’ll accept his scatterbrain and won’t ask too many questions. He hates lying but in this situation it feels entirely necessary because he can’t very well tell her the real reason his head is in the clouds.
All he can think about is TK at work, doing his job, riding in the ambulance, treating patients, being the amazing and heroic professional that he is, and all the while underneath his standard issue is all that yellow lace. He thinks about it being a little rougher against TK’s skin than regular briefs – he’d liked that, the time Carlos had asked him to rub a pair against his heated flesh before the fire had taken so much from them. He’d like the way it felt, the way it chafed a little, the way he could still feel it the next day. He thinks about TK on a physical call, having to lift someone or restrain someone in a way that made his shirt come untucked. He thinks about it riding up and someone else catching a glimpse of what Paramedic Strand is wearing underneath his uniform. He wonders if that’s part of the thrill, for TK. The idea that someone might see.
It all culminates in Carlos leaving the sandwich he’d packed in the break room refrigerator and stopping by a food truck to take lunch to the 126 instead. He has no idea whether any of them will even be there when he arrives. He doesn’t text anyone first, and their calls are as unpredictable as Carlos’ are. He doesn’t let himself overthink it, he just picks up an assortment of paninis and French fries and drives over.
He’s in luck. Or maybe, Carlos thinks, he’s not. Maybe it would have been better if he’d found the firehouse empty. Maybe he could’ve left the food in the fridge with a note and splashed some cold water on his face and screwed his head back on straight, gone back to work like the competent professional he is supposed to be. As it is, TK and his crew are all in the kitchen as Carlos walks in with a bag and a stack of boxes, and they’re all happy to see him.
“Baby!” TK cries, practically skipping over. He lets Paul take the boxes out of Carlos’ hands and then he nearly leaps into Carlos’ arms to kiss him, while Nancy and Marjan make obnoxious noises about it from across the room.
There was a time, not that long ago, when Carlos would have been embarrassed to be kissed in public. There was a time he would have worried about being judged, about getting glanced at sideways and spoken about behind his back, about whispers getting back to his father. He wraps his arms around TK’s waist and laughs into the kiss, and feels tall and warm and unbreakable when he remembers there was also a time, not that long ago, when a pair of turquoise panties was stuffed into the bottom of a long forgotten box and the sight of them had TK bursting into embarrassed, ashamed tears. He’s wearing sunny yellow ones under his uniform, now, and Carlos kisses him in full view of their friends and feels not a flicker of discomfort.
They gather around the large table in the kitchen and divvy up the food Carlos brought, and they eat to the soundtrack of loud storytelling and shouts of carefree laughter. Carlos really loves these people, all of them, and he’d missed them all so desperately during the months he and TK were apart. They’re finishing up when the alarm sounds, indicating the firefighters are needed. Movement erupts, and Carlos watches as Judd, Paul, Marjan, and Mateo spring into action, leaving everything behind them and jogging out of the room and toward the bay where the trucks are.
He’s left with just TK and Nancy, and they tidy the leftover mess while Nancy tells them about a crazy run-in her mom had at the grocery store with a customer who lost it when the place had run out of horseradish. She thanks Carlos for lunch again as she leaves the room, once it’s clean, and TK turns to him, grinning happily.
“This was nice, thanks baby.”
“Yeah. No problem.” Carlos nods at him.
“Do you have to get back?”
“Soon, yeah.”
When Carlos doesn’t immediately bid him farewell and head back to his car in the parking lot, TK frowns and tilts his head curiously. “Everything okay?”
Carlos doesn’t know how to answer that. He’d been distracted, at least mostly, by the crowd of their friends. Now that it’s just the two of them again, the buzz of desire from before is back under Carlos’ skin.
TK looks so innocuous, standing here. He’s in the uniform he wears every day, when he’s on a shift. It’s simple and black, it looks good on him because everything looks good on him but there’s nothing particularly sexy about the clothes themselves. It’s just that Carlos knows what’s underneath them, and TK doesn’t know he knows, and there’s something so tantalizing about it that Carlos can’t shake. He can’t remember the last time he was this distracted in a place and time where it’s so inappropriate for him to feel that way. There’s a fog in his mind and a prickle to his skin and he wants to throw TK over his shoulder like a caveman and take him home and lay him out on their bed and leave shreds of yellow lace behind in his wake.
Wordlessly, he takes TK’s hand. It’s stupid, it’s unprofessional, and it’s so, so reckless, but Carlos doesn’t feel like his brain is running this ship anymore. TK follows behind him without asking where they’re going, probably completely confused but trusting enough not to question it. Carlos takes them up the stairs and locates a supply closet on the second floor, at the end of a long hallway that hopefully means they’ll be less likely to be discovered. He leads TK into it and closes the door behind them, the dim light overhead casting shadows on TK’s frowning face.
“What are we doing?” TK asks slowly.
Carlos doesn’t answer. He’s not sure he has the brainpower left to explain it even if there was a respectable explanation – and there certainly isn’t. Instead he just takes TK’s face in his hand and surges forward to kiss him, tasting barbecue sauce on his tongue as TK makes a muffled, surprised sound and then melts into the kiss.
Letting his hands slide down, Carlos runs his palms along TK’s chest while he roams TK’s mouth with his tongue, grabbing the sides of his shirt between his thumb and forefinger and gently tugging.
TK inhales softly. There’s a sudden nervous tremor, a tone of warning, in his voice as he quickly says, “Carlos.”
“I know. It’s okay, sweetheart, I already know,” Carlos whispers, dragging his nose across TK’s. When the shirt is free he cups TK’s hips and feels the lace protruding over the waistband of his pants as Carlos knew it would be. He smiles and rubs his thumbs over it.
“You … knew?” TK whispers.
Carlos nods. He pops the metal button on the slacks to give himself more room to work and then slides his hand down the back of TK’s pants to cup his ass, the lace warm and rough against his palm.
“I saw you, through the mirror in the bathroom,” Carlos confesses, as TK shivers against him.
“I didn’t know you were watching.” TK sounds embarrassed, but there’s a hint of something else in his honeyed voice. Excitement, maybe. The sort of thrill of having been caught, of thinking he had a secret and then finding out Carlos knew all along.
“I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t spying, I was just walking by.” Carlos feels just a little bit guilty, all of a sudden, even though TK doesn’t seem upset. TK’s trusted him with this, this thing that he has such a complicated relationship with, and for a moment Carlos forgets his arousal and worries that he’s ruined it.
“It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry, I should’ve just let you do your thing. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“… Yeah?” TK asks, soft and hopeful.
Carlos knows how it went, the last time someone dragged a uniformed TK into a supply cupboard and put their hands down his pants. He hadn’t thought of that, when he’d done the same thing minutes earlier, but the knowledge crashes back into him as his brain reminds him (too late, unhelpfully). He knows TK was mocked and laughed at and left humiliated, and he hadn’t intended for this moment to be a do-over of that one, but maybe it isn’t the worst thing in the world if that’s how it’s turned out. He can make that better, too. It’s all he’s ever really wanted to do, since he first laid eyes on this incredible but wounded man. He’s wanted to gather up all of TK’s past hurts and heal them one by one until nothing but sunshine was left.
He squeezes TK’s ass again and then reaches with his other hand for the elastic ribbons at the small of his back, plucking one and letting it snap back lightly against his skin, making TK inhale.
“This pair is so sexy,” Carlos breathes, smearing another messy kiss to TK’s lips. “I’ve been fucking useless all morning, all I could think about is you in an ambulance and no one knows you’re wearing these except me. Our secret.”
TK makes a small, suddenly desperate noise and Carlos’ stomach swoops. He slides his hand around to the front, pushing TK’s pants down further until they fall over the widest part of his hips and slip with a swish of fabric to the floor. He palms TK through the panties as TK moans softly into his mouth, finding him hard and burning hot already. Carlos teases him just for a moment, because they don’t have the time or space for the way he’d like to drag this out for an hour to get TK back for the state of chaos Carlos’ brain has been in all morning.
He – carefully, this time, because TK has to go back to work after this – tugs the panties to the side so he can free TK’s cock and wrap his fingers around the burning, hardened flesh.
“We’re in a fucking closet, Carlos,” TK says, but his actions betray his words. He doesn’t pull away, his hand squeezes the back of Carlos’ neck and he angles his head so that he can deepen their kiss. TK loves being kissed, he has since the very first time their lips met, and Carlos loves being the one to indulge him.
Carlos hums his agreement and strokes TK, slow at first and then speeding it up, twisting around the head and swiping at precome with the pad of his thumb.
“Mm,” TK moans. “God, I love your hands.”
“You do, huh?” Carlos teases. He feels out of control, he understands what a massive risk this is and how completely mortified he would be if anyone ever found out they did it, but he can’t seem to stop. Someone else is in the driver’s seat, in his brain. He’s usually so careful, so steady and composed, holding so tightly to his self-control and his professionalism. He knows it makes him a little bit boring, sometimes, but he’s always been that way. Stoic, and measured. TK undoes him. From the very beginning, everything about the man squirming against him right now has knocked down every one of Carlos’ defenses.
“What if we got caught?” TK asks, echoing Carlos’ thoughts.
He shudders as Carlos strokes him, and he makes a beautiful, startled sound when with his other hand, Carlos plucks at a strip of elastic that crosses his abdomen and lets it snap back onto TK’s skin, a little rougher than he had with the one at his back.
“Does that turn you on?” Carlos asks, in a low, rough voice.
His head is swimming, arousal coursing through him rough and unrelenting, and before TK can answer, Carlos spins him. He pulls TK’s back against the front of his body so that he can grind his hips against TK’s ass as he strokes his cock. Carlos doesn’t know when exactly he got so hard but all of a sudden his pants feel tighter than they’ve ever been and he might die if he doesn’t get some friction on it. TK feels so good in his hand, warm against his palm and so familiar because he’s learned this body, studied it like a map, touched and kissed and licked every square inch of it.
Carlos thinks their friends might have trouble looking him in the eye ever again, if they knew how much he loves having sex with TK. He’s not sure he would blame them, and he’s also not sure he cares.
“Yes,” TK admits in a shaky whisper. “Can’t you feel it?”
“I can feel it.” Carlos strokes TK’s erection a little bit faster to illustrate his point and then slows down again just to feel TK’s hips twitch and listen to a stuttered exhale. “You’re so hot when you’re needy.”
“Just for you, baby,” TK breathes, and Carlos’ stomach swoops, because that’s exactly what he wants. He wants to drive out every second of the memory TK shared with him, all those months ago. He wants to claim him and devour him, so that TK can never look at a supply closet the same way again.
Carlos attaches his lips to TK’s neck, just below where he knows the collar of his shirt will cover, and sucks at his skin. Marking him, branding him. It makes him feel powerful, to think of TK walking around for the rest of his shift with more than one piece of Carlos on him, that no one else can see but is there lurking just under the surface.
TK swears again and the rough edge to his voice is filthy music to Carlos’ ears.
He shoves a hand between their bodies so he can push his own uniform slacks down to his thighs, softer cotton boxers much more forgiving against his throbbing erection. He pushes it upright inside his underwear with his free hand so he can slot it in between the warm cheeks of TK’s ass and rolls his hips.
The friction is devine and he moans against TK’s neck before sucking at him again.
“Fuck, baby,” TK breathes, hands scrambling for purchase on the concrete wall in front of him. Next to them, a jug of some kind of cleaning fluid slides dangerously closer to the edge of a melamine shelf.
“Do you know how hard it is for me to be careful with all these pretty things when you wear them?” Carlos asks him, almost not recognizing the rasp in his own voice. TK’s body feels like heaven against his own, and Carlos twists his wrist around the head of TK’s leaking cock again just to listen to him gasp. “When the second you put them on, all I wanna do is rip them off you?”
“We could – ah – work it into the monthly budget,” TK jokes around a moan. “A line in the spreadsheet for regular replenishment of the panty supply.”
Carlos chuckles. He loves this man so completely, loves his cheek and his mischief and his gentle heart.
“Carlos,” TK groans. “Carlos, I’m gonna come if you don’t stop, what are we …?”
“I got you,” Carlos tells him, biting at his neck again. “Go on, babe. But quiet, though, unless you want Nancy bursting in here to see what all the fuss is about.”
TK groans even louder, dropping his head so that he can press his mouth into his own bicep to muffle the sound of it as he comes. Carlos catches it with his other hand, the hot spurts of it filling his palm, and he closes his eyes and rests his forehead on TK’s shoulder so that he doesn’t make too much noise, either.
Much quicker than he’d like, while TK hangs his head and struggles to catch his breath, Carlos extracts himself from the embrace and grabs a roll of paper towels he’d noticed earlier. He wipes his hand, carefully folding it up and putting it into his pocket so he can discard it in a less conspicuous garbage can.
TK tucks himself carefully back into the panties and Carlos helps him pull his pants back up, and then TK spins and shoves Carlos roughly against the closed door, hard enough that someone standing just outside in the hall would have definitely heard the thump. The knob painfully catches his hip, as TK in one swift motion sinks to his knees and pulls Carlos’ underwear down as he goes. Before Carlos can make heads or tails of what’s happening his cock is encased in warmth and wetness, TK expertly swallowing him down and sucking at him.
Carlos swears, hands tangling in TK’s hair as TK hums around him and bobs his head. He’s always been good at this, right from the very first time they ever made each other come, and he’s only gotten better as he’s learned all of Carlos’ sensitive spots.
“Shit,” Carlos hisses, tugging at TK’s soft, tousled hair.
TK wraps his hand around the base and sucks, hard, at the head of Carlos’ cock and Carlos presses his lips together and his eyes closed and comes down his throat, tremors of it slithering through his body and leaving his knees wobbly. TK licks him clean with pleased sounding hums and then pops back up to his feet, tugging up Carlos’ underwear and helping him redress as he helped TK moments earlier.
For the first time since they entered the cupboard, their eyes fully meet. TK’s mouth is shiny and red, his cheeks are tinged pink and his hair is messy, and he looks at Carlos with wide eyes and parted lips just for a moment before he smiles. Big and bright and happy, and Carlos can’t help the laugh that bubbles up out of him.
“You have no idea how much I wish I could tell someone about this,” TK says to him, laughing too, as he wraps his arms around Carlos’ shoulders. “People think you’re so respectable. They think I’m the one who corrupted you.”
“Is that so?” Carlos muses flirtily, as he tucks TK’s shirt back in for him, just for one more chance to leave his fingerprints on the yellow lace before it’s hidden away.
“Mhm.” TK smiles smugly at him and kisses Carlos’ lips. “They have no idea you go so insane for me in lingerie.”
“Our secret,” Carlos says, like he’d said before, and TK seems to glow just a little brighter at the thought.
Hours later, Carlos sits in his Camaro back in the 126 parking lot, waiting for TK. It’s only a few minutes before a familiar face appears across the lot, chatting animatedly with Paul as they both leave for the day. Paul waves at Carlos and he returns it, and watches as they bid each other goodnight and then Paul heads in the other direction toward his own car. TK jogs over, bounding into the passenger’s seat like an excited little kid and tugging Carlos into a kiss as soon as he’s close enough to do so.
“Hey, babe. Have a good day?”
“Couple of messy calls. But my unbelievably sexy boyfriend brought lunch for my crew and then jerked me off in a cupboard, so that was a plus.”
Carlos grins at him, thoroughly tickled at the pleased-as-punch expression on TK’s face.
Once they’re back in the loft, with the door closed and locked where they can really be together and safe and themselves, Carlos sinks onto the couch and tugs TK with him. TK folds into his lap easily, his body knowing after all this time exactly how it fits against Carlos’, and Carlos undoes the buttons of TK’s shirt so that he can push it off and let it fall to the floor. The yellow lace appears, tight along TK’s hips.
“There’s still a bit of a patient’s blood on that shirt, anyway,” TK says, settling back in.
Carlos laughs softly and rubs his back. They both need to shower, neither having done so at their respective stations this time, but for the time being, Carlos is content to sit with TK in his lap. He’s warm, and he still smells like TK, underneath a bit of sweat and bleach.
“Have you done this before?” he asks, letting TK know what he’s referring to by rubbing his thumb along the lace at his lower back. “At work, I mean?”
TK shakes his head. He leans forward even further, resting his head against Carlos’ shoulder. He seems to melt, his body molding into Carlos’ like they were designed to fit together. “No. This was the first time.”
“And? How’d it feel?”
He feels a smile forming against the side of his neck, and it fills Carlos with joy he isn’t expecting. He loves TK happy. “I was a little nervous at first. But then it felt really good. And then as previously mentioned, my boyfriend gave me a hand-job in a closet.”
Carlos presses a long kiss to his cheek. “You like that word, lately. Boyfriend.”
“I lost you, for a while.”
“We lost each other,” Carlos corrects gently. He summons the courage to ask the question he’s been avoiding for a month. “Did you buy any for yourself? When we were apart?”
TK shakes his head again.
“Why not?” Carlos was correct, to be unsure how he would feel about that. He still isn’t sure, now that he knows the answer.
“I don’t know. I guess it … felt like our thing.”
“It is,” Carlos agrees. He holds the back of TK’s head, cradling him and kissing his cheek again. “And I love that you share it with me. But it’s also yours, babe.”
“You make it feel safe,” TK replies with a shrug. “I didn’t want it, without you. I know it’s my fault that you were gone, but …”
“We agreed, no more blame,” Carlos reminds him. “We both fucked up. And I’m here now.”
“I know.” TK lifts his head. His eyes are so beautiful. Carlos kisses him, soft and slow.
He lets the subject drop. He’s not going to pressure TK into something he isn’t comfortable with, and he’s not going to make TK feel bad for not being comfortable, but he suspects the thought is going to stay in the back of his mind, even if he isn’t verbalizing it.
“C’mon,” he says, gently nudging TK up and off his lap. TK stands and Carlos stands after him, pulling him into a brief but deep kiss before he takes his hand and pulls him in the direction of the bathroom. They need to shower anyway, and maybe Carlos can take the opportunity to get a better look at TK in yellow panties than he had earlier, tucked into a supply closet and rushing so they wouldn’t be caught.
He sits on the closed lid of the toilet seat and positions TK close to him, unbuttoning his pants slowly as he smiles up at TK. He gets a smile in return as Carlos pushes his pants down and lowers his gaze.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, his heart skipping a beat as he takes in the sight before him. He tips forward, pressing a kiss low on TK’s stomach, as TK makes a pleased noise and combs his fingers through Carlos’ hair.