Part 2 of my new M/M(/M) serial. This is very much meant for adults only. And yes, of course I am a tease!
By the end of the ride, Steven doesn’t know whether to laugh, roll his eyes, or just take Dave’s stories at face value. It’s difficult to imagine him as part of Sinatra’s entourage. Then again, he is well connected today; maybe he always was.
It’s only when they’ve entered the mall that Dave stops rambling long enough for Steven to ask, “Is there a point to the trip down memory lane or are you just trying to look cool? In which case, sorry, but you’re only proving how cheesy you are.”
It’s a cheap jab, but Steven figures, after twenty minutes of Rat Pack stories, he’s allowed.
Dave scowls at him. “You’re taking Alex’s lines, now? And yes, there is a point.”
Which he doesn’t explain, and Steven has to prod. “What point? Where are we going? Do you have a costume idea for me?”
Dave’s hand slips into his and squeezes once. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles. Steven loves that smile, loves how it makes his throat tighten and his pulse race.
He knows that’s not why Dave smiles, but he also knows, all too clearly, that Dave is aware of the effect that smile has on Steven. Sometimes, he wonders if Dave regrets sending him away. He wonders if what they have left, whatever it is, is just a way for Dave to cling to what he won’t let himself have fully. Steven wonders, mostly, why he agreed when Dave said he ought to see other people; why he still agrees every time Dave’s resolve falters and he touches Steven in a way that goes way beyond the friendship they supposedly have.
Steven is with Alex, now. He loves him – he really, truly does. And still, he loves Dave, too, even if Dave won’t allow him to say the words. If Alex was jealous, Steven would stay away, and it’d be the most gut-wrenching thing he’s ever done. But Alex isn’t jealous; Alex actually offers advice about his Sire to Steven, like he wants them to get back together – but why would he want that? He loves Steven too, he said as much and Steven believes him, just like he would have believed the same words if Dave had ever voiced them.
It’s all a mess. Steven is with Alex but he still has Dave in his life; it should make him happy and yet… something’s missing. He’s had a few sleepless nights thinking it over. He has learned to lie still and keep his breathing even not to wake Alex. It doesn’t always work.
Without looking at Dave, Steven squeezes back his hand, bumps against his shoulder as though by accident, a silent ‘thank you’ for everything they had – and the things they still share.
“So where are we going?” he asks again, although by now the answer is pretty clear. There’s a store ahead of them, the window full of mannequins in elegant suits. The whole Vegas talk is starting to make sense, and Steven isn’t sure he likes where this is all going. He stops abruptly, forcing Dave to do the same. “I was thinking, an actual costume, you know. Something silly. Like, a black cape and fangs?”
A flicker of amusement lights up Dave’s eyes. “And you think that’d be enough to make Alex decide he wants to tag along? He’d laugh in your face.”
“You don’t know that,” Steven says, and now he’s trying not to pout – and judging by Dave’s widening grin, failing miserably.
“I would. Now do you trust me or not?”
Steven knows Dave only means it for this particular instance, for the help Steven asked from him, but the answer is the same whatever the circumstances.
“Of course I do.”
Dave seems to hear the nuance in Steven’s voice, and his smile softens. “Good. Let’s go.”
The next twenty minutes are sheer torture. Dave demands to be shown every available fabric, he touches each sample, even sniffs a few, and talks with the store owner – who is apparently a bona fide tailor, and wow, do they really still have those? – using esoteric words that bore Steven to tears. He’s half asleep in a surprisingly comfortable and plush armchair when a few words startle him awake.
“Let’s get this young man out of his clothes.”
That’s the tailor, and he doubtlessly means it in a completely professional way. Dave is right behind him, though, and the flame in his eyes means something altogether different. Steven swallows hard and is very grateful for his loose cargo pants and untucked shirt.
He’s even more grateful, just moments later, that the tailor is either hard of hearing or extraordinarily discreet.
He does give a token protest when Dave follows him into the changing room. He’s certainly old enough to dress – or undress himself. But Dave has turned the deaf ear thing into a fine art. Steven knows all it would take is a word, just one: no. It never occurs to him to say it.
Not when Dave stops his fingers on the first shirt button and says, very quietly, “Let me.”
Not when the shirt falls down, quickly followed by his t-shirt, and Steven is pretty sure he could have kept that on for the fitting.
Not when Dave cups his cock in one hand, the back of his head in the other, and draws him in for a kiss, just lips on lips, almost chaste. The same lips are anything but chaste when they caress a line down Steven’s chest. Dave kneels in front of him like he would in front of the altar, eyes half closed as he opens Steven’s pants and tugs them down, worship written all over his face, and damn, Steven’s mind takes strange turns sometimes when Dave’s hand is on his dick.
He starts leaning back, seeking the support of the wall behind him, but Dave clucks his tongue, and Steven feels it against his balls just as much as he hears it.
“Stand straight,” Dave demands, voice mild yet suffering nothing short of perfect obedience. “There’s a way to hold yourself when you wear a nice suit. You might as well start practicing now.”
Steven is a good boy; he does as he is told, only breathing out a quiet, “Yes sir.”