Part 8 of my naughty serial...
Alex doesn't get up from the bed. He's not sure his legs would hold him up if he did. "So. Costume party."
Steven’s eyes gleam with amusement. "I did tell you about it."
"Well, yeah, but. I didn't think you were going Brat Pack." And Alex immediately rolls his eyes. "Sinatra, silly boy, not the stupid eighties actors."
Steven slides a hand down his tie, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles out of the silk, a small smile flirting on his lips. The pretty, silly boy has no clue what he’s doing to Alex’s cock.
“Do you have Vegas stories too? Dave just wouldn’t shut up about it.”
And that works quite well for cooling Alex’s head. Grimacing, he slides to the edge of the bed, now sitting close enough that he could just reach up, grab that tie, twist it around his fingers and pull Steven down. Oh, the things he could do with that tie…
His fingers clench on the edge of the mattress. The Egyptian cotton sheets feel like burlap.
He tries to keep his tone innocuous—“Dear old Dave got you the suit, then?”—but he misses by a mile and sounds exactly like what he is.
When they first met, the boy had exactly three smiles. Bashful, which is too cute for words and always makes Alex want to caress Steven’s face, kiss the pretty eyes he hides behind his bangs, and hold him tight. Sad, and that’s the smile Alex never wants to see again. And happy; that’s the one he likes best, and he tries to do something to receive it at least once a day.
Since then, Steven has extended his repertoire, and Alex isn’t too sure when he learned to smirk. He isn’t sure either whether he likes it or not. But he does like Steven slinking closer and sitting on his lap, a leg on either side of Alex and his hands linked at the back of his neck.
“He was in a buying mood,” Steven says, his grin softening right along with his voice. “And someone told me to stop fighting it and let him spend his money on me when that happens. Just to make him happy.”
He brushes his lips against Alex’s, a caress more than a kiss. Alex slides his hands beneath Steven’s jacket and touches silk that’s just as soft as the skin it hides. Always the best quality, for Dave’s boy, and never mind that it makes Steven squirm uncomfortably to have Dave pull out his wallet for him.
Alex has told Dave he’s an idiot—repeatedly—and that it’s not gifts Steven wants from him. It never was. But Dave is stubborn, and really, why would Alex try all that hard to stop him when Steven isn’t the only one who gets to enjoy those presents?
“It worked, by the way,” Steven adds, eyes twinkling. “We skipped the whole uncomfortable guilt trip part and went straight to the babbling stage. Good advice.”
When his mouth touches Alex’s again, it’s not just to tease anymore, and his tongue presses in, slow but insistent. Alex’s hands drop to Steven’s ass, push him closer on his lap until they’re flush, hardness to hardness, and there’s no way Steven will go out to that stupid party now.
Steven bucks forward; he’s panting, just a little, when he breaks the kiss. “I’d better go or I’ll be late.”
He slides off Alex’s lap as smoothly as he slid on, and all right, that’s a bet Alex would have lost. Mouth still half open, he stares at Steven’s crotch while the boy adjusts himself, and with those perfectly tailored pants, everyone at that party will notice.
“You’re going to leave me hanging?” Alex croaks, but what he really means is, you’re going to go out like that? He sometimes lets Steven drag him to those parties. He’s seen how the girls look at his boy, like he’s candy, chocolate and sex all rolled together and only needs the right pair of tits shoved in his face to realize he’s not really gay. It always amuses Alex, always makes him curl his hand a little more possessively on his boy’s hip—always makes him fuck Steven raw once they get back home.
Steven chuckles quietly. If Alex didn’t know any better, he’d call him evil.
“Pretty sure you’re not hanging,” he drawls. “And you’re the one who said you didn’t want to…” His eyebrows rise a little higher. “What did you call it again? Play fucking dress up with a bunch of half-grown kids?”
The words sound a lot worse when taken completely out of context. Alex scowls, fingers twitching for a cigarette. “Didn’t mean it like that.”
Steven crosses his arms and makes a noncommittal noise. “If you say so. But if you don’t want to be alone, all you’ve got to do is come with me.”
“Would rather just come,” he mutters. “And I don’t have a costume, do I?”
The grin that blooms on Steven’s lips tells Alex all he needs to know before the boy even says a word. Evil doesn’t begin to cover it. Devious, cunning, and too smart for his own good are more like it.
“Did I mention Dave was in a really good mood?” Alex says, tongue in cheek, as he walks over to his closet. He pulls out a hanger, rips off the plastic covering and shows the suit to Alex. The blue of the pants and jacket is just a shade darker than the one Steven is wearing, the red of the shirt and tie, a shade closer to fresh blood.
Alex’s eyes narrow to slits. “You had this planned all along.”
“Not all along,” Steven says, shrugging. “Only after I heard about the many hidden rooms and dark corners in that frat house. I know how much you like… architecture.”
A bubble of laughter bursts on Alex’s lips. Jumping to his feet, he grabs Steven’s face in both hands and plants a kiss on his lips. God, but he loves this boy.