[identity profile] annabeth.livejournal.com in [community profile] osgood_asitgets

Chris doesn't have any instructions on what he should do while he waits for his assignation to begin, but he suspects that Drapes will probably enjoy unzipping the dress and exposing his undergarments, so he stands awkwardly in front of the bed and tries not to fidget.

But he quickly gets bored, sneaking glances at the alarm clock on the nightstand and trying to figure out what the hell is taking Drapes so long.

Honestly, if the grandmother thing didn't work, there is always thinking about someone else—say, Chara—naked. He chews his lower lip and shimmies in the dress because the thong is not the most comfortable thing he's ever worn.

Well, this isn't fun, Chris decides. So even though he doesn't want to wrinkle the dress or otherwise damage the overall effect, there's no reason he can't turn the TV on and find something to watch while he waits.

So he picks up the remote control off the bedside table and flicks the TV on, keying in numbers until he finds an on-demand channel for porn.

He giggles a little bit to himself; any minute now, he and Drapes are going to be making their own porno—well, sort of. He wonders if Jenna would film them together if he asked—then wonders if that's being cruel to her, taking things too far.

Damn, this is boring. At least until the guy in the porno strips down to his skin and begins to suck off the innocent-looking younger guy lying on the bed.

By the time Drapes unlocks the door, Chris has forgotten about not wrinkling himself and is sitting, hunched over, on the bed, eyes glued to the screen as the dark-haired older guy fucks himself on the blond. It's fast and furious and Chris hasn't even consciously noticed Drapes until his friend clears his throat.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asks, and Chris starts. He drops the remote control, which bounces on the carpet and comes to rest directly in front of Drapes's feet.

Drapes bends down to retrieve it and turns off the TV.

"I can think of better things for you to be doing than watching porn," Drapes says. "After all, all that lead-up, and I hope you're not going to—" he halts.

Chris follows his line of sight down to his lap. Uh-oh, he's somewhat ruined the effect of being a 'girl', because at some point he untucked his cock without paying attention and now his hard-on is stretching the fabric of the dress between his thighs.

"Um," Chris says, then closes his eyes to really get on with imagining Chara naked and doing Babs, but then there's a warm hand covering his dick, and he opens them again to meet Drapes's pale blue eyes.

"I like it," Drapes says. "It's one thing to pretend you're a girl for awhile, Ozzie, but you should remember that the reason I want you is because of you—and that includes your cock."

"At least you didn't say, my 'fat cock', like the guy in the porn just did five minutes ago," Chris says archly.

Drapes rolls his eyes, but he palms Chris's cock again, bringing him back to full hardness and almost beyond, so hard it hurts.

That's when Drapes goes down to one knee and relocates his hand from Chris's dick down to join the other at the back of his legs.

He runs his fingers up over Chris's calves first, then shudders, eyes fluttering closed, and sucks his own lip into his mouth as he slides his hands back down, then up again, this time more slowly.

When he gets to the backs of Chris's knees, he presses into the flesh there, and then skims upward again, wordlessly urging Chris to stand up.

When he does, Drapes gets back to his feet and lets his palms travel the full length of his legs, all the way up to the bare cheeks of his ass, which Drapes cups as he rucks the dress up.

"Jesus," Drapes breathes. "Just, fucking Jesus."

Chris manages a shy little smile, pretty sure that's a good sign, but not completely certain because his friend has never sounded quite like that before.

"Jenna said—"

"Yeah, I can imagine what she said," Drapes says, voice cracking with arousal. "You shaved your legs, didn't you? That's so filthy—and hot." Drapes rubs his fingers over Chris's ass, ever-tightening circles until he reaches for the secrets concealed within the cleft—and then his eyes roll back in his head a little, and he looks down.

"The thong," he says, "I didn't really think you'd wear it."

Chris smiles coyly. "You thought I'd put the dress on without the proper undergarments beneath?"

Drapes swallows, his Adam's apple jumping inside the line of his throat. "You don't wear undergarments," he says weakly, and this time, Chris knows his smile is positively evil.

"Not always, but I can make exceptions," he murmurs, before ducking his head down and biting the side of Drapes's neck.

Drapes slips his finger into the back of the thong and pulls it away from Chris's ass, then begins to rub at his hole—it should be uncomfortable, Drapes's finger hot and dry, but it just whets Chris's appetite.

Words he should say to Drapes catch in his throat, things like how long it's been since he's had anything besides his own finger (or Jenna's) up there—how long it's been since he's been with another guy.

Drapes probably thinks Chris has been around the block—the locker room, that is—with enough guys already that he's certainly not going to tell him that the last time he slept with a guy was in high school, and that didn't go any farther than a toy his high school friend had.

His mind wandering, he almost doesn't hear Drapes when he speaks.

"Time to get you out of this dress," Drapes says in a hushed voice, and he takes his hand away, reaches up behind Chris and sweeps his hair (the wig) out of the way. He turns Chris around and the sound of the zipper going down fills the room.

It's so strange to hear that sound and know that it's not his jeans being unzipped, but a dress; it gapes away at his chest, the straps slipping down his shoulders, and all of a sudden he's grabbing at the front of it, as if afraid of Drapes seeing him naked—which is stupid, of course.

Drapes kisses the back of his neck, bared to the cool air. His lips are slightly rough and warm like melted butter. Chris moans and rolls his head forward to expose more of the back of his neck—he tries to pretend he's not thinking about this in terms of food, but he does so love his food.

The tip of Drapes's tongue touches the nape of his neck, and then Drapes is sliding his hands through the straps of the dress and tugging them down, out of Chris's grip.

He hums when he realises that Chris is wearing a strapless bra in satin-red, and then Drapes is deftly unhooking it, pulling it away and all that's left is Chris's bare skin and the faint whisper of a thought of where it might have ended up.

"You're beautiful like this," Drapes says, the vibrations of his voice carrying through Chris's skin. "But you're even better naked," he finishes up with.

And then the dress is pooling at Chris's feet and Drapes is smoothing his palms down Chris's legs again, hands circling his ankles as he buries his face in the valley of Chris's ass.

Drapes's breath is hot and unbelievably erotic against the back of the thong, which just barely conceals Chris's hole.

Chris shudders, now clothed in nothing but a pair of high heels and a Red Wings thong, and he's never felt so naked before.

"I don't know how it's possible, but you smell amazing," Drapes offers suddenly into the poignant silence. "I mean, not that I'm smelling your ass or anything," he adds right away, as if the fact that he might do just that is creepy.

Chris feels a thrill go through his body. He probably smells like sex right now—his cock is pressed against the fabric, making it tight across his hipbones, and he can almost smell himself in the air, the pre-come seeping through the material.

Drapes slides his finger into the back of the thong again, but this time he uses his other hand to tug the elastics holding it up down over his thighs, and then down his legs—making certain to run his hands over Chris's smooth legs again.

Chris obediently lifts up each foot so that Drapes can dispense with the thong, leaving his cock as bare as his ass is.

Drapes reaches around Chris's body and cups his erection, thumb flicking over his slit, greasing his cockhead up with pre-come.

"Ozzie," Drapes whispers softly, "can I fuck you?"

Chris can feel a shiver start at the back of his neck and roll its way down his spine. Somehow, the barely-spoken, provocative words lodge themselves at the base of this throat and he finds himself regretting every time he might have unintentionally flirted with someone and given Drapes the idea that he didn't want him back.

Thinking back on it now, he knows that this moment has been building from the second he found the thong in his locker. Knows, too, that Drapes is desperate for him to say yes, but prepared for him to say no.

His wife has always known him so well, it figures she knew beforehand how much he'd come to want this. How likely it would be that he'd find himself in this position.

Chris turns around, even though it means dislodging Drapes's hand from his cock. He takes both of Drapes's hands and tugs him to his feet.

"Yeah," he says, own voice a faint croak. He clears his throat and repeats himself. "Yes."

It's Drapes's turn to shudder. His cheeks go pink and he's just staring at Chris now.

"Happy birthday," Chris whispers, and lifts up one heeled-foot. "Come on. Get me all the way naked."

Drapes complies, divesting Chris off the heels, which puts them back on, no pun intended, even footing. Now he can see the shine of saliva coating Drapes's lips.

"This is..." but Drapes can't find the words he wants, throat working soundlessly. For once, he doesn't seem ready to lecture.

"I'm sorry," Chris says softly. "You should have said something."

But immediately he knows that what Drapes did was the only thing he could do: make a move with the option to play it off as a prank. Chris probably couldn't've have done any differently, if the situations were reversed; he wouldn't want to risk their friendship suffering because of it, and he knows that Drapes feels the same way.

But they're past all of that now. He's standing here naked—and kind of cold, to tell the truth—but it might help for him to remember that while he's freezing his nuts off, Drapes is still cosy warm in his suit, right down to his suit jacket.

Chris leans forward, trying to put his nakedness out of his mind, and slides his hands beneath the sides of Drapes's suit jacket, flattening his palms against Drapes's chest, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feel of his best friend's nipples underneath his hands.

He just holds them there for a bit of time, and gradually, his teammate's nipples harden, and then Chris begins to rub at them with his fingertips through the shirt.

Oh, it's dangerous, what he's planning: Drapes might need to borrow clothes or Chris might be going out dressed as a woman later to buy him some clothes, but the longer Drapes stands in front of him in that suit, the more he wants to sully it up, to sex his friend up with some of the clothes still on.

It's Drapes's birthday, and he really should have—he has an idea.

"Sit," he says, and pushes against Drapes's breastbone until the birthday boy lands with a 'thwump' on the edge of the chair in the room.

It's so counterproductive, and it might give Drapes a bit of worry, so he says, as he shimmies back into the thong,

"You can still fuck me, but you should just enjoy this."

He turns around, adjusting the thong so that the front at least partially covers his cock and that the back is in the place it's supposed to be.

He hears Drapes's sharp intake of breath as he wiggles around to get comfortable, and then he turns back. He saunters over to the chair, and drapes himself over it and his best friend, one hand by Drapes's head, the other on Drapes's chest, and lifts one knee so that it's slightly balanced on his teammate's thigh.

He slides his fingers into Drapes's hair, and lowers his head and lays a kiss on his lips. Soft, so soft, like it's not quite real, but he can feel the vibrations of his nerves resonating throughout his entire body.

He moves his knee next to Drapes's thigh so keep from crushing him, and deepens the kiss, tightening his fingers against the back of Drapes's skull.

It hits him suddenly: this is their first kiss. He pulls back, and Drapes's breath leaves his chest in a whoosh, bathing Chris's lips and chest.

The wig is still in place, the hair long and convincing as it caresses Drapes's collarbone, and Chris gives him a coy little smile.

He draws a senseless pattern down the center of Drapes's chest with his fingertip, feeling the body heat rising up to meet the sensitive pad of his finger, and then he slowly unfolds himself till he's standing again, and then he turns around, and puts one hand on each arm of the chair.

Drapes's breath is hot and rapid against his shoulderblades. It's obvious he's figured out what's happening.

Chris begins to swivel his hips, to shake his ass to music only he can hear (he's not telling anyone that he's totally hearing 'Do You Think I'm Sexy' in his mind right now) and he lowers himself down enough to grind lightly against Drapes's clothed erection—pleased, actually, that Drapes is already hard.

Then he lifts up again and begins to sway his hips again, listening to—and feeling—the way that Drapes's breathing changes as he moves in front of him, giving him a lap-dance while wearing the thong that his best friend had so hoped he would wear.

This time, when he lowers himself down, he grinds his ass against Drapes's cock with conviction, every movement designed to inflame and entice—and it's working. Drapes's dick is throbbing against the bare skin of his ass, and he can feel it twitch against his body.

And then he levers himself up again, balancing temporarily on one hand—feeling the muscles strain and quiver as he does so—so that he can reach underneath him and unfasten Drapes's slacks.

He unzips them, and slowly lifts his cock out, then sits back on his lap so that the hard length of Drapes's dick rides up the crack of his ass, grazing each side but skin-on-skin contact in the centre thwarted by the thong.

"In the drawer next to you," Chris says softly, and when Drapes pulls open the drawer, Chris knows that he finds the condom and lube he stashed there.

"Fucking Christ," Drapes murmurs, and then he's grabbing Chris's ass and yanking him up, dragging the elastic of the thong to the side, and pressing against Chris's hole.

"Nope, just me," Chris says arrogantly, or at least, he's pretending to be. Drapes huffs out a disbelieving laugh, and then Chris hears the foil packet being torn open.

Any minute now, Drapes's cock is going to be sliding inside him for the first time. It's either going to be mind-blowing, or hurt like hell because he hasn't really had anything that size up there in a long while.

He finds himself gritting his teeth with anticipation, but while he's not sure what he's going to get, he does know he's not going to turn Drapes away.

Chris kind of wants to ask if Drapes has ever done this before, with another guy. He doesn't know what to expect, but he can't think of any way to ask the question without exposing too many of his own insecurities. But then Drapes's fingers are back, slightly cool from the lube, and Drapes is running his fingertip around and around his entrance, as if trying to relax Chris before finally pausing and pushing just the tip of his finger in.

Chris hisses, and Drapes immediately stops. "Am I hurting you?"

"No," Chris says, the barest whisper of noise. "It was... a surprise. A good surprise."

He sucks his lower lip into his mouth and Drapes works his finger inside. Chris is tight, he knows it, and he can tell from Drapes's breathing just what this is doing to his friend: slow torture.

If he thought he could take it, he would tell Drapes to just jam it in already, but he knows that's liable to be more pain than pleasure and hurrying things could ruin it for both of them.

"Add another," Chris instructs, feeling like every word he says is weighted and sinking down to the floor in front of him. The atmosphere of expectation is almost suffocating, the anticipation making his cock leak into the thong, right where the Winged Wheel is.

Drapes complies, slowly pushing another finger in. Chris closes his eyes, and arches his back, and then he pushes back, and swallows up both of Drapes's fingers; he starts to fuck himself on them, and Drapes gasps and moans a little. Chris can only imagine what he must look like: makeup and womens' underwear, and a wanton whore, most likely—though Drapes doesn't seem to mind.

"All right," Chris manages to get through his tightened-with-lust throat. "That's good enough."

"Tell me if I hurt you," Drapes murmurs, then pulls his fingers free with a slight sucking sound caused by the lube and the release of Chris's muscles.

Chris can barely even nod, and then something much thicker is up against his opening. He takes a deep breath, then releases it, and tries to release all the tension in his body with it, as Drapes grips his hip with one hand and presumably uses the other to make sure his cock goes in like it should.

His cockhead breaches his entrance first, and they both gasp, and quiver—Chris can feel the tension in Drapes's grasp on his hip.

Drapes takes an audible breath of his own, then another inch is being taken by Chris's body, and Drapes is going so slow, it's excruciating.

"Closer," his teammate says, "another few inches. Can you take it?"

"Yeah," Chris pants. "Give it to me. Give it all to me."

Drapes's fingers squeeze on his hip, and then Drapes cants his hips up and his cock slides right up into Chris.

Oh, it feels good. Better than Chris expected: even with the condom on, the texture of Drapes's cock—the veins and smooth hardness—is very different from the toys and fingers that have been up there before.

Chris is relieved when Drapes doesn't ask permission to move, just starts thrusting.

He clenches his fingers, and lowers himself as Drapes fucks upward, which drives Drapes's cock so deep Chris sees stars behind his eyelids.

All those inches, Chris thinks, remembering the size of Drapes's cock from the showers, and every last one is buried within his body. It's such a thought of utter hotness that his whole body tightens.

Drapes lifts Chris up easily—he has another thought of how much Drapes works out really helps in a situation like this—and then Chris sinks back down, body easily taking everything Drapes has to give him.

He's starting to sweat, collecting under his shaven armpits, and behind his knees. Drapes kisses the back of his neck, then layers kisses down to between his shoulderblades even as he fucks him.

Drapes's forehead is damp with perspiration as well, and then he lets go of Chris's hip, apparently content to just remain sheathed within him for the moment, and runs his hand up Chris's chest, pinching a nipple before wrapping his arm around him and pulling him back against his own chest.

This close, their skin almost smells the same.

Chris reaches back and fumbles until he finds Drapes's hair, and clutches clumps of it in his fists as he begins to move on his own, rocking back and forth a bit fretfully, to get the stimulation he needs.

Drapes takes the hint and resumes his own thrusts, tiny, precise movements now that Chris is clasped in his arms, but each one sends piercing pleasure through him as Drapes hits his prostate.

Drapes licks his shoulder, then bites it just hard enough to hurt, but that enhances the experience and Chris grunts with how good it feels.

Chris is so caught up in the connection between the two of them that it takes a few seconds to register that Drapes's cell phone is ringing.

"Ah," Chris says, squirming on Drapes's lap, on his cock, half-expecting that his best friend is going to insist on answering it, but Drapes doesn't let up, and he doesn't loosen his hold on Chris's body, either.

Chris's bare back is sweaty against Drapes's dress shirt, and he can feel the dampness of the fabric, which is faintly scratchy against his skin.

"Don't worry," Drapes mumbles against his shoulder. "If it's important, she'll leave a message."

Chris wants to ask why Julie would call if she knows where her husband is—Jenna said she did, but does she know where her husband is, and what he's doing?—but he doesn't want to break the spell linking the two of them. And then Drapes whispers against his ear, causing a full-body shiver to go through Chris,

"I want to see your face, Ozzie. I want to know it's you I'm fucking and not..." He doesn't say, and not some girl, but Chris knows what his friend means.

After all, he's still wearing the wig and the thong, and if Drapes closed his eyes, he could probably pretend he was just fucking any willing woman. Though he knows that Drapes would never cheat on Julie with another woman... this doesn't count, right? He gets distracted by the thought, and almost doesn't notice Drapes's cock tugging free, until he's so empty he's aching with it.

Already he misses the ache of being filled, so he stands up and strips out of the thong, then turns around and climbs back onto Drapes's lap.

Drapes gives him a tiny smile and says, "You forgot something," and yanks the wig from his head, leaving his hair undoubtedly mussed in a ridiculous fashion.

He takes Drapes's cock in his hand and aims it properly and then sinks down on it, which draws an, Oh, from both of them.

Drapes strokes his cheek with the back of one hand, then kisses him, and Chris adjusts to the fullness of his dick again as they make out, Drapes's tongue exploring his mouth.

But this isn't getting Chris what he wants, and he doesn't think it's going to get Drapes there, either, so he breaks the kiss and begins to bounce himself up and down on Drapes's cock, faster and faster.

The phone has ceased its ringing and Chris has his eyes closed, his focus concentrated on the point where their bodies are joined; Drapes is moaning almost non-stop now, as if watching Chris and his stupid I'm having sex face is the hottest thing ever.

"Oh," Chris says, as he's lowering himself down again, feeling Drapes's cockhead brush his prostate. "Oh,
he repeats, and then, "oh my God," and he wasn't expecting this, but all of a sudden he's coming, body stretched around Drapes's dick and clenching against it as he fights it, trying to prolong it, but there's no stopping it—like an oncoming train.

He reaches around Drapes with both arms and buries his head in that spot between his neck and shoulder, breath coming fast and damp, hanging onto Drapes as his cock spurts and spasms.

Drapes has taken control to make up for Chris losing it, and he's fucking Chris so hard and fast that he can tell how close Drapes is, too.

"I'm sorry," he gasps, because God, he went over that peak so quickly, but Drapes just shushes him and then tightens his hands on his ass, where, at some point when Chris wasn't paying attention, they must have ended up.

He can't move, body limp and soaked with sweat, as he waits for Drapes to finish; his best friend speeds up fractionally again, then goes still with a grunt, and Chris wishes that there wasn't a condom between them. He should have just gone for it; should have let Drapes fuck him without the condom because this is his birthday present, after all.

Drapes's body goes slack as well, and for what feels like forever, they sit in the chair, clasped together, breath harsh in the quiet room.

Drapes eventually pulls out, and they both kind of wince when he does, and then Chris catches sight of Drapes's clothes: his suit jacket, his shirt, and even the waist of his pants are splattered with Chris's come, an obscene white against the black backdrop of the material.

"I'm sorry," he says again, but Drapes just shakes his head. "Are you expected back home?" he asks, and Drapes shakes his head again.

"No, we can sleep here, if you want," he says breathlessly. Chris pushes against the back of the chair, even though his arms still feel like limp noodles, and then grips Drapes's chin and kisses him fiercely.

"Happy birthday," he says, and it comes out half-way to a moan. "I'm sorry you didn't know I liked you back."

Drapes smiles lazily, sated and obviously pleased with himself. "Nothing to worry about, now," he says.

They disentangle, and, hanging off each other, make their way on wobbly legs to the bed. Chris lies down first, and Drapes rips off his clothes so fast Chris hopes he hasn't lost any buttons.

But they don't really sleep, not right away; they stay up for hours just talking, until dawn begins to light up the sky.


"So, how did it go?" Jenna asks Chris when he gets home later the following morning. Chris is stripping out of his clothes, the spares he brought with him to the hotel, and testing the water in the shower as his wife leans against the bathroom doorjamb.

"It taught me one thing," Chris says wryly. He finishes undressing and steps into the shower. From beneath the spray of the water, he can hear Jenna say,

"And what was that, I wonder?"

"I should never let you and Drapes conspire together, that's what." Chris squirts shower gel onto his bath poof—the one that Jenna and his daughters make fun of him for using—and begins to scrub at his chest to get the dried sweat and flaky come off.

"I was just doing you a favour," Jenna says. He hears the door shut. "Are you going to tell me what it was like?"

"Honey, you want details?" Chris laughs and begins to wash his ass gingerly, a bit sore. Jenna sits down on the closed toilet lid—Chris can see her shadow through the curtain—and laughs herself.

"I can't help it," she says ruefully. "Some part of me is still a teenager looking for juicy gossip."

"I'm not going to spill," Chris says. He can hear Jenna make a noise of disappointment. "But, if you want to, you can watch next time," he adds with a private grin. One of the things he and Drapes had discussed last night was what to do about their wives and whether they should take their one-night stand any further.

"Haha, I knew it!" Jenna crows. "Julie and I had a bet going, how long it would take one of you to offer."

"Well, that explains her phone call," Chris comments. "I think she was trying to get the jump on you. Drapes and I might have been finished at that point if we didn't spend so much time at the restaurant."

"Ooh," Jenna says. "I'm going to call her right now. She totally loses because she cheated."

He hears the door open again, and calls after her,

"Hey, babe?"


Chris pictures her standing impatiently, half-out the door to call her friend.

"You didn't say whether you wanted to watch," he reminds her.

Jenna bursts out laughing. "I can't believe you have to ask," she says. "I've been imagining what it must have been like since I sent you off last night, like sending my daughter off to prom."

"Just so you know that there is no way either of our daughters are spending prom night the way I spent last night."

Jenna peeks her head around the shower curtain, and he steps forward and kisses her, which is what he knows she wants. She makes an appreciative noise, then licks her lips when he lets her go.

"Thank you," Chris says, knowing how much like a grovelling idiot he must look, but unable to keep himself from saying it.

Jenna strokes the side of his face, then puts her damp finger in her mouth.

"Just one thing," Chris adds. "I'm not getting all dolled up next time. What you see is what you get."

Jenna rakes her eyes over him, wet and soapy, and probably wearing marks here and there from Drapes's mouth and hands.

"When you get out of the shower," she says, "I'm taking you up on your offer."

"Hey!" Chris says, covering his chest with his hands. "I'm going to need some recovery time, you know."

"I didn't mean that offer," Jenna says with an arched eyebrow. She gestures to his bare body. "I meant that one."

Chris should have realised that his wife had taken his statement as a come-on—he would have, coming from her.

She practically dances out of the room, and Chris begins to hurry up with the washing. When he gets out of the shower, before he spends some time alone with his wife, he needs to call Drapes.

And make some plans.

He touches the puffy rim of his hole and smiles secretively to himself. Maybe he can convince Jenna to make out with Julie the next time he and Drapes do it.

All in all, it was a memorable birthday—for both of them.

And to think, it all started out so simply: a Red Wings team thong.


Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.

February 2014

345678 9
10 111213141516

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags