Another installment from this weird little serial of mine...
Ten days after their first visit to the tailor, Dave isn’t surprised when Steven enters his office. Happy, as always, but not surprised. Amused, too, when Steven lets out a huge sigh; the elevator doors haven’t even closed on them yet.
“It better be worth it,” Steven mutters.
Dave doesn’t say a word, but he gives him a look, an eyebrow twitching; he’s pretty sure he made it worth Steven’s while last time, and he’s not above doing it again today. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about it as the days ticked closer to their fitting appointment. He can still feel how warm Steven was, afterward, cradled against his chest, can still hear the tattoo of his heart, slowly calming down.
Steven notices the look, and his reaction is instantaneous and familiar: he blushes. It starts high in his cheeks, two spots of color like red dots on a painted porcelain figurine. Dave wants to touch with his fingertips, his lips, taste the warmth spreading over Steven’s face, his ears, his neck, and probably down his chest, too.
“I didn’t mean…” Steven clears his throat, looks away, even rocks a little on his heels. It’s adorable. And it bring Dave back to his senses, at least for now.
“How was your week?” he asks. “How’s school?”
Small talk is not easy, but they manage well enough.
The tailor ushers them in with the warm smile of the well-tipped. He pulls the plastic cover off a suit on a hanger. Steven looks at the suit. Dave looks at Steven looking at the suit. He tries to read his face, tries to see if he likes it. He wonders if Alex taught him to play poker.
When Steven takes the suit into the changing room, Dave hesitates. He wants to follow, wants to help Steven slip into expensive fabrics, fasten buttons and knot the tie. The small talk on the way is what stills him; that, and the smile Steven flashes at him.
“Be right back.”
The tailor clears his throat discreetly and uncovers a second suit. Dave inspects it absently. Without an actual fitting, it’s hard to tell, but the proportions look right. It should fit Alex pretty well. Dave almost wishes he could see him. He almost – just almost – gets nostalgic.
For now, though, Steven is quite enough.
He walks out of the changing room, and Dave’s dick instantly proclaims its approval. The tailor is good. The tailor is much better than good. The suit fits to perfection. The pants are a little bit long, but that might be because Steven is barefoot. They’re tight but not too tight, making his legs seem longer, fitting just right at the crotch, and Dave’s dick isn’t the only one having fun here. The jacket falls perfectly over his shoulders. Unbuttoned, it shows that the shirt is just as well made. The tie is the same reddish color, snug at the collar; Dave wishes he needed to tighten it, just to have an excuse to touch. He shoves his hands in his pockets.
“So what do you think?” Steven asks, but his tone says he already knows. Sharp eyes, bright boy, brighter smile.
“If Alex doesn’t go to that party with you,” Dave says gruffly, “he’s an idiot.”
Steven laughs. “You already think he’s an idiot.”
Shrugging, Dave doesn’t respond. He pulls a hand out of his pocket and motions with his finger. Steven obligingly turns on the spot.
“Will another fitting be necessary?” the tailor asks, but he, too, already knows the answer to his question.
Too soon, Steven returns to the changing room. Dave pulls out his credit card and busies himself with trivial matters until it’s time to go. The suits are back under plastic. The limo driver lays them flat in the trunk while Dave and Steven get in the back.
“When’s your party?” Dave asks.
He never gets an answer. As soon as the door closes on them, Steven climbs into his lap. Hands on Dave’s shoulders, knees on either side of him, hard cock against Dave’s, and his mouth like a caress against Dave’s lips, his cheek, his ear.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
Dave smiles, half closes his eyes and wraps his arms loosely around Steven’s waist. “Welcome,” he breathes. “Anytime. Anything you want. You know that.”
“Anything?” Steven repeats quietly, the words tickling Dave’s earlobe. “Really?”
Dave should know better than to hum an affirmative. He’s already breaking his own rules too much as it is. How can this young man affect him so much? He’s not even as old as Dave was when he became a vampire, and that was a long time ago.
Steven pulls away, frees himself, and Dave tries not to let regret fill him. And then, he tries not to swallow his tongue. Because Steven only pulled away to slip off his lap and onto the limo floor. He kneels between Dave’s parted thighs, fingers already working at his belt, his fly. Dave’s hands cover Steven’s, still them. He offers a pained smile and shakes his head.
“You said anything.” Steven’s voice is quiet and steady; his eyes, steel. “This is what I want.”
Dave wishes he could say no.
He wishes he didn’t have to.
“Steven, it’s not…” He doesn’t know how to finish. He tries again. “You don’t need to do this.”
Steven smiles, the curve of his lips as patient as it is indulgent. “I know I don’t need to. But I want to. And you said anything.”
With a quiet sigh, Dave releases Steven’s hands. “Just this time,” he whispers. “Okay?”
Steven’s smile widens; he doesn’t reply.