Continuing with the naughtiness... If you missed the previous parts, they are here: #1 - #2
If Dave said he brought Steven here for this, he’d be lying. If he said he regrets it, the lie would be just as bad.
The first time he touched Steven – the first time Steven led Dave’s hand to his cock and Dave’s mouth to his neck – they were both drunk out of their minds, Steven on a few beers, Dave on a lot more than that. It was over in seconds for both of them.
The first time he closed his mouth on Steven’s cock, they were both sober and knew exactly what they were doing. The one thing Dave didn’t know was whether it would ever happen again; he took his sweet time, made it last, bringing Steven right to the edge over and over before pulling back, letting him cool down just so he could do it again. Steven called him all sorts of horrible names, at first, but by the end all he could say was “Please” and “Dave”; Dave still gets hard just thinking about it.
It’s different this time, there’s no teasing, no delaying, just the constant pressure of Dave’s lips and tongue. He knows how to wring pleasure out of this boy he doesn’t really dare call ‘his’ anymore, knows how to demand quiet moans and pleas without uttering a single word, knows when to add just a hint of a blunt tooth on that one special spot beneath the crown to make Steven gasp, make him shudder, make him spill himself onto Dave’s waiting tongue.
Dave doesn’t let one drop go to waste. He cleans up Steven with small licks, then pulls his boxers up before standing again. His own cock is screaming for attention, but that’s nothing for Steven to worry about.
Draping one arm at Steven’s waist, Dave draws him close. “You’re beautiful,” he says in his ear, both because it’s true and because making Steven blush is one of his favorite things.
Eyelids heavy and a contented smile on his lips, Steven rests his head on Dave’s shoulder, whispers a “Thank you” that tickles Dave’s neck, as delicate as fingertips.
“Ready to get measured?” Dave asks, fingers coursing through Steven’s hair. It’s too long again. It’s always too long. Once, Dave coerced Steven to one of the city’s most reputed hair salons. Three days later, he could hardly even tell that Steven had had a haircut. As much as he huffs about it, though, he secretly loves being able to rake his fingers through Steven’s hair.
“In a minute,” Steven mumbles. “Just want…”
He doesn’t say what he wants, but Dave can guess. He holds him a little closer, the way he did during that beautiful summer, the way he never dares to anymore unless Steven is still flushed and dazed from pleasure.
He knows the entire thing is wrong, of course. He knows in a few hours, when Steven has returned to his life, Dave will regret breaking his resolve. Again. All he’s doing is confusing Steven, giving him mixed signals.
But the truth is, Dave can’t truly give up on Steven. He’s tried. He tried to let Steven go back to the normal life he ought to have. But Steven keeps coming back, and Dave is weak. Even knowing Steven is with Alex, now, even if the last thing Dave wants is to cause friction between them, he just can’t keep his hands, his mouth off this lovely boy. At least he can control his fangs. Small consolation.
It doesn’t help that Steven is always oh, so very willing.
“Okay,” Steven says with a quiet sigh. When he pulls away, his eyes are fully awake, his pleasure remaining only in his relaxed smile. “Let’s get to the torture bit.”
With an indulgent grin, Dave opens the changing booth’s door and precedes him out.
The tailor looks up from patterns spread on a table a short distance away. His gaze is absolutely unperturbed, and Dave adds a mental zero to his tip for his discretion.
“I think I found the pattern that will suit this young man the best,” he announces as he comes closer, measuring tape already in his hands. “You mentioned something fitted?”
Dave confirms, talks colors and fabrics. Steven rolls his eyes.
The tailor directs Steven with fleeting touches, and it’s almost like watching him dance. Arms up, down, out in front of his body, bent elbows, standing straighter to his full height, a quietly casual inquiry as to whether this is the side he usually dresses. That last one stumps him for a second, and when he gets it, he turns crimson before stammering an answer. Dave smiles to himself, but keeps a very close watch on the tailor’s hands, making sure they do not linger any longer than absolutely necessary. It would be a pity to have to break his fingers before he can get to work on the suit.
“It better be worth it,” Steven mutters when the tailor releases him to get dressed again.
Dave knows one way to make sure it is. Borrowing the tailor’s notepad, he jots down numbers. Alex hasn’t changed much in the past forty years, although maybe he’ll need to relearn how to stand properly when wearing a suit. Dave is sure Steven will enjoy the view as much as he himself used to.
An appointment is made for Steven’s fitting. Dave hands out his credit card for a deposit and well-earned tip. Soon, they’re in the back of the limo again, and the driver has strict orders to take the long way to drive Steven home.
Steven is in Dave’s lap the entire ride, his mouth on Dave’s, their cocks pressed together in their joined hands. Steven smells of both their comes when he says goodbye and slips out of the car. Dave tries not to imagine what Alex will say. What he’ll think. What he’ll do. Fuck Steven into the closest convenient surface, probably. Prove to himself that Steven is still his. Jealous bastard. Dave wishes he didn’t understand so well.