What Not to Wear – SATURDAY

“You’ll be changing into something more decent.” Beckett kept his voice as calm as he could, but he was aware his comment was statement rather than question. “We’re due at the restaurant by seven.” He stood at the front door of the apartment, keys in hand, ready to go outside. He’d been standing there for fourteen minutes now. Not that he was counting. Much.

Doug had ambled into sight in the doorway of their bedroom and was staring at him from along the hallway. His hair was unbrushed and his eyes sparkled. He ran a finger – apparently aimlessly – along his neck, just under the ear, tracing a dark, mouth-sized mark, and sighed at Beckett with an obviously exaggerated patience. “But you complained when I changed last time.”

“That was because you changed to naked last time,” Beckett replied. The pulse at his right temple quickened. He tightened his fist on the keys.

Doug yawned. “It’s the weekend, Beckett. It’s down time. We’re officially unemployed, albeit for just a couple of days. Remember?”

“You’ve been all but naked since Friday night,” Beckett said. He wondered why, in his voice, that sounded like a complaint. In Doug’s, it’d sound like a mission statement. “It’s now Saturday night. To be precise, you’ve been naked since Friday evening, just after half past six, which is when you started to strip off.”

Doug smirked. “Far as I remember, to be precise, you weren’t too keen on my T-shirt. Something about its inappropriateness at our exit interviews.”

“Just the T-shirt, Doug. I had no issue with the trousers. Nor the socks, nor the boxers.”

Doug stretched slowly and languidly. He didn’t bother to hide the fact he was also making sure that Beckett was watching him. “Details, mere details.”

Beckett felt a knot of tension form in the back of his throat. “Doug, we were in the car. We still had five miles to reach our apartment. There are lights at every junction, and we had to stop at each one. I don’t think that man appreciated you tossing your underwear into his open window as he drew up beside us.”

Doug shrugged. “Looked like his girlfriend did. I was just expressing my relief at the end of a tough working week.”

Beckett felt very flushed. He assumed he looked it, too, and that was why Doug was laughing as he spoke.

“Yeah, lover. You expressed your relief pretty graphically, too.”

The only details Beckett could truly remember were the sounds of his car shrieking to a halt at the lights accompanied by Doug’s triumphant laughter: his sudden left turn across two lanes of traffic and into an underground car park; the murderous glare at the barrier as he grabbed for a ticket; the desperate search for the darkest bay; and, finally, the even more desperate abandonment of any discretion as he dragged the car to a diagonal stop in the nearest bay available and fell on Doug’s virtually naked body.

“Fuck.” Doug made a soft growling noise in his throat and took a step toward Beckett. “The look in your eyes. So good.”

“Don’t,” Beckett said. But he wondered – as he often did – why he bothered to say it.

“Hell of a day. I just wanted to console you. Please you.”

Beckett felt the heat flicker inside him, like a small, intimate flame had been lit, low in his belly. “In the middle of rush hour traffic?”

Doug took another step forward, still smiling. “Worked, though, right?” He didn’t wait for Beckett to reply. “Looked like I pleased you a lot when I flipped my car seat back and opened my legs around your hips.”

Beckett sucked in a breath, trying not to provoke his lover any further. And just how futile was that?

“Pleased myself even more, feeling your chest close up against mine. The edge of your open zip against my thigh, the sharp pain of your teeth in my shoulder. The thrust of your cock right up inside my arse. Couldn’t laugh, could hardly breathe. Very fine.”

Beckett bit back a moan. They’d climaxed within a couple of minutes, both of them, the car windows steaming up and the suspension rocking furiously. Beckett had held himself back to a restrained groan, but Doug had cried out in his usual, exuberant way. Then he’d rolled off Beckett with come trailing down his leg, and now there was going to be a sizeable bill for the steam cleaning of the car seats. Again.

Doug was only a foot or so away now. “Good thing you left that job. You’ve been much more relaxed since you did.”

Beckett had to admit that was true. It wasn’t only because of the freedom from a job that, although stressful, he’d only left the day before. The other reason was in front of him: the man who brought him agitation and sexual turmoil. Also unadulterated joy – and plenty of relaxation. A hell of a delicious mess, all the time.

He was rather amused to realise that suited him just fine.

Doug was grinning back at him, but the insouciance was deceptive. Beckett could see the way Doug’s pupils darkened and swelled, the flickers of passion bubbling like a hot spring in the dark irises. It was that strength of emotion that Beckett realized he loved, that he craved. He glanced down his lover’s body. Doug’s T-shirt was oversized and thigh-length. Beckett just knew there was nothing else underneath it. He felt momentarily dizzy. That was Doug’s way, of course: the planting of sensual seeds in Beckett’s deepest, most lustful heart – the place where Beckett knew he wasn’t the one in control.

“You can’t wear that to the restaurant,” he said. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the hem of the shirt and the shifting, swelling shapes underneath it. Or was that just hopeful wishing? He hadn’t realised his imagination could be so vivid until he met Doug. “It’s Alan’s birthday. He and Sam are going to take exception.”

They both looked down at the shirt.

I’m cute? No shit.

Doug looked up, his expression quizzical. “It’s a lie?”

Beckett raised an eyebrow.

Doug’s gaze dropped back down to the front of Beckett’s trousers, and his grin became blatantly wicked. “Off it comes, then.”

He was still lifting it over his naked shoulders when Beckett tackled him and brought him to the carpet. They wrestled for a few minutes, laughing and panting with the effort, then Doug rolled on top of Beckett, pinning Beckett’s hands above his head. The T-shirt was hanging from only one arm, and he wriggled it off impatiently.

“Naked again.” Beckett sighed. He thought the words sounded gleeful, which wasn’t really the tone he’d been aiming for. Doug’s skin was warm against him and when he looked down, he saw Doug’s muscled thighs on either side of his hips, gripping him tightly. He could also see the tip of Doug’s erection, shamelessly weeping with arousal, dampening the lower half of Beckett’s shirt. His heartbeat quickened.

Doug sat back on his heels and flipped open the button of Beckett’s jeans. “An hour ago, you weren’t any better dressed yourself. You were bare-arsed naked – and not only that, but hot, horny, and very, very hard.” He wriggled on top of Beckett’s legs, pulling Beckett’s jeans down. The briefs followed. When he unbuttoned Beckett’s smart shirt, the T-shirt underneath made him pause – and laugh. “So this is your contribution to the provocative line in shirts, I see.”

“It’s from your drawer.” Beckett gasped, trying to take a proper breath, but most of Doug’s weight was on his belly. His hands weren’t captured anymore, but he kept them stretched above his head just because it felt good. What a startling thought. His bared cock was heavy and thick, twitching against his groin.

“Nah.” Doug snorted. “Could have been made with you in mind.”

Beckett sucked in a breath as Doug’s warm hand ran up his leg, tugging his thighs farther apart. “I told you… it’s your shirt. Your slogan.”

Doug shucked back to settle between Beckett’s outstretched legs. He ran sweaty fingers along the creases of Beckett’s groin, down the underside of his straining cock, and under his balls, which he squeezed, none too gently. Beckett gasped and his hips bucked up from the floor, instinctively reaching for attention.

“I like that slogan a lot.” Doug’s eyes met Beckett’s over the T-shirt in question.

Objects below are larger than they appear.

“They damned well better be,” Doug growled.

Beckett gave a hoarse laugh. “You, of all people, should know.”

Doug grinned and knelt up. Beckett’s legs were bent back toward his chest, Doug’s strong hands stretching him wider. He felt Doug’s cock pressing at his entrance, its warmth teasing against the sensitive pucker. “Fabulous,” Doug murmured, though he sounded breathless. “Muscles clenching. Ready for me. Waiting…”

Beckett’s arousal bobbed with impatience against his belly, brushing against hairs that were damp with sweat. His balls felt heavy, shifting inside the sac, pendulous and hot against the front of Doug’s thighs. “Do it.” God, had he said that aloud? “Doug, do it.” But Doug was frowning down at him, as if struggling with a reply. Beckett’s only struggle was in believing that could be true. Was there a real problem? “Doug, are you okay?”

“Beckett.” Doug swallowed hard, his hands tightening on Beckett’s ankles but his cock no further forward. It might have seemed a ludicrous position to Beckett if he hadn’t felt so desperate. “Look, Beckett. I mean… You look so damned fine. You know? It’s so good. How you are… how we are…”

Beckett felt warmth inside that had nothing to do with the shared body heat. “I know. Not always a joke, right? Not always a game.” And Doug, not always a joker. A partner, a lover, a challenge, a comfort. He smiled up at Doug and reached out a comforting hand. “You want to put something on a T-shirt?”

Doug scowled at him, but his eyes widened and, for a moment, his expression was very vulnerable. “Arsehole.”

“You said it.” Beckett smiled even more broadly. “So get the hell on with it.”

Doug shook his head and laughed. He wriggled his knees forward to get closer. Beckett took a deep breath as Doug’s cock pressed inside; he felt his muscles stretching around it, welcoming the invasion. Groaning loudly, he found himself scrabbling at the carpet, seeking some purchase. But Doug grabbed his wrists again and pressed them to the floor above his head. Beckett arched under a deep, strong thrust, and then another. Too slow. To his chagrin, Beckett couldn’t hold back a pleading whimper.

Doug curled his other hand around Beckett’s cock and began to pump. His palm slipped up and down the shaft in the same rhythm as his hips ground up against Beckett’s arse.

“Now.” Beckett groaned. “Oh, fuck!” He gasped as the climax shuddered through him. His cock swelled inside Doug’s fist, and come started to spit out from its tip. It spilled over Doug’s fingers, slicking his gradually slowing hand. He fought against Doug’s other hand, restraining his arms, but Doug still held him firm. He did, after all, know perfectly well what Beckett liked. At the same time, Doug arched back, his legs stiffening against Beckett’s, his head thrown back. Beckett watched the pleasure in his lover’s half-closed eyes and listened to the loud cry of satisfaction as he climaxed too. None of it ever disappointed him, ever failed to delight and excite him. He let his head roll to one side and his body relax back on the carpet. Above him, Doug groaned and slumped forward, stretching out over Beckett’s prone body.

They both lay there on the hallway floor, spent, sweating, and sated. The restaurant was far from Beckett’s mind and, judging by Doug’s satisfied, exhausted expression, from his as well.



Follow the story from the beginning:

“Lunch, did you say?” Doug raised his eyebrows. He grinned broadly and licked his lips. “Like, now?”
Beckett coughed as if he knew Doug wasn’t just referring to a cheese and pickle sandwich…

Just before Beckett was nudged back up against the side of the elevator car, he caught sight of his lover and colleague’s T-shirt. His gut gave a familiar churn and his mouth dried.

Doug watched Beckett’s fingers under the cloth, probably teasing a nipple. Or both. A bead of sweat ran down the middle of his back. Maybe his guy didn’t need Doug’s personal crusade to lighten up as much as he thought…

A quick sidestep, an unanticipated grip of the elbow, and he had Doug pressed back onto the Board table. Doug gave a grunt of surprise, and his hand scraped across the varnished surface, seeking purchase…

The sudden noise from the telephone was shrill, the cradle rocking on the desk as they thrust alongside each other. Beckett reached out to answer it.
“Leave it!” Doug groaned…