Oh! You Pretty Things

[i_am_tl_dr]

Title: Oh! You Pretty Things
Characters: Quentin Kinley, Tyler Jordan Graham, Wendy Graham, Preston Brooks, David Moore, and Max Parker
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 10275
Notes: Quentin's plans for Halloween come to fruition, and nothing plays out the way he thinks it will.


Timeline: October 31, 2015


"You take really good care of your hair," Wendy said as she rolled the curler up one dark lock. "It's very soft."

"Thank you?" Quentin was a little twitchy, not used to anyone but Tyler Jordan playing with his hair. "I wouldn't keep it long if I wasn't going to keep it well."

"You do keep it well. And this is going to look super cute. Did you decide how you want your makeup done?"

"Subtle," Quentin said. "Not bright or anything obvious."

"I can do a smoky eye, that's subtle and sexy."

"Definitely do a smoky eye on him," Tyler Jordan said from across the room. "I want something more blatant. Maybe a cat's eye."

"Oh, I know exactly what I'm doing on you," Wendy said. "Flashy but feminine. Trust me, TJ, you'll be a showstopper."

"Stellar." Tyler Jordan came over as Wendy released Quentin's curled hair and grinned. "Oh, that is cute. You're gonna be so pretty, Q." Quentin touched the curl and looked at Wendy.

"This will come out, right? It won't stay curly or wavy or whatever?"

"Once you wash it, it'll be straight again. No worries. You'll only be pretty tonight, then it's back to being handsome. But you'll be very pretty."

"I bet Tyler Jordan will be prettier," Quentin said, and Tyler Jordan made a kissy face at him.

"We'll see. You sure you won't let me do your brows?"

"Do not touch my eyebrows," Quentin said. "Don't do anything I can't reverse by tomorrow afternoon. Don't pluck anything, don't try to shave anything."

"You're not committed," Tyler Jordan said. "I shaved my legs."

"That's because you're insane," Quentin said. "You're way overcommitted."

"Yeah, but actually feel them." Tyler Jordan hiked up one leg of his pajama pants and put his foot on Quentin's lap. "Touch. So smooth." Quentin ran his hand up Tyler Jordan's calf.

"Oh. Yes, very smooth..." His hand kept going up. Wendy coughed behind him, tugging the curler wrapped in his hair, and Quentin let go, not even looking embarrassed about it. "Okay, yeah, that feels really nice."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Wendy said. "They'll be all prickly in two days. I don't shave my legs after Columbus Day, I just wear leggings all winter long. Unless I'm getting laid. I'll shave for that."

"I don't wanna hear about your sex life," Tyler Jordan said, and Wendy smirked at him.

"Why not? I know about yours."

"What have you been telling her?" Quentin asked, and Tyler Jordan held up his hands defensively.

"Nothing! Not since that huge piece of advice."

"Oh, yeah... that was really good advice," Quentin said meditatively. Wendy snorted and rolled up the last curl on that side of Quentin's head.

"You guys have become a lot better adjusted since then. I'm glad it worked so well for you."

"So am I." Quentin's voice was fervent, and he tipped his head back to look up at Wendy with a small smile. "Thanks, Wendy."

"No problem. Happy to turn an adolescence of reading advice columns I shouldn't have been looking at into something useful." She tugged Quentin's hair gently to get him to turn his head and he bit the inside of his cheek. "I just want TJ to be happy. And you make him happy. So... don't fuck that up."

"I'm not gonna fuck it up," Quentin said, stung. "Not deliberately, anyways. And he's very forgiving. And he makes me happy, happier than anyone has ever made me before. So I'm gonna keep trying to make him happy."

"Oh, speaking of which," Tyler Jordan said. "You wanna be a witness when we get hitched? We're going Friday morning."

"You what?"

"We're getting married at the courthouse."

"Without telling anyone?"

"We're telling you," Quentin said. "And we're gonna ask your dad and Theresa and Olivia if they want to be there too. But I really don't wanna make a big deal out of it."

"You aren't gonna tell your family?"

"Wasn’t planning on it."

"Your mother's gonna be pissed," Tyler Jordan said, and Quentin shrugged.

"If I told her, Janet would find out. And if I told Rishi, he'd tell Mom, and Janet would still find out."

"What does it matter if your sister finds out?" Wendy asked.

"She's a troll and she curses everything good I've ever had," Quentin said flatly. "I don't even want her and Tyler Jordan to be in the same place if I can avoid that happening. So far, so good. I'm not gonna let her swoop in and poison his love for me the day we get hitched."

"She wouldn't be able to," Tyler Jordan said, taking Quentin's hand and lacing their fingers together. "She doesn't matter, okay? She made you miserable since the day she was born but you're an adult now and you can shut her out of your life if you wanna do that. I don't want her anywhere near you if that's how you feel about her. But I promise you, nothing your shitty sister can say or do is gonna have any effect on how I feel about you, unless it's to make me more protective of you."

"I don't wanna risk it." Quentin squeezed Tyler Jordan's hand and offered him a slight smile. "But it's fine. My mother will get over it. It won't be the first time she's been furious with me and it probably won't be the last time, either."

"You should tell her," Wendy said mildly. "At least call her Friday morning and give her the option to be there. It would mean a lot to her."

"She saw Sakura get married. She saw Rishi get married even though that barely lasted three years. She's gonna see Orly get married. I'm not that significant."

"I think she would disagree with you," Tyler Jordan said. "But if you honestly don't want her there, that’s your decision to make."

"I don't-- I'll think about it," Quentin sighed. "I guess I really don't want her to be that mad at me."

"Well, look at it this way-- how hurt will she be when she finds out because you changed your name on Facebook? And how simple would it be to keep her from being that hurt?" Wendy released the last curl and loomed over Quentin for a second. "Isn't it better to head into your marriage without causing your mother that much pain?"

"Oh my god, you weren't kidding about her," Quentin said, looking wide-eyed at Tyler Jordan. "She's worse than Dear Abby."

"She's not wrong," Tyler Jordan said. "I think you should tell her. I think you should tell Rishi too, but he'll be less offended than she will if you don't tell him."

"You Grahams and your family values are so foreign to me."

"Hey, you're gonna be one of us Grahams in a week, so you better start getting used to it," Tyler Jordan said, leaning in to kiss Quentin quickly. "I'm not gonna make the decision for you. I'm just gonna register my opinion and leave it at that."

"I'll think about it," Quentin said again, "I have a few days to decide."

"Okay, who wants to be first for makeup?" Wendy asked. Quentin waved at Tyler Jordan, who grinned.

"Work your magic, Wendy darling." He let Quentin move out of the way, then took his glasses off and batted his eyes at his sister.

"Are you wearing those tonight? If you're wearing contacts you should put them in before I do your eyes."

"Oh. Yeah, okay, hang on." He darted into the bathroom and emerged a minute later. "I don't think I can pull off the nerd girl look. I wanna be a bombshell."

"Don't worry, you'll turn heads," Wendy said. "I'm glad you opted for a wig though. What color's your dress?" She pulled out her makeup bag and started sorting through it, then poured foundation on the back of her hand and started brushing it all over Tyler Jordan's face.

"Red. Like blood red. And Quentin's is spruce green and black." Tyler Jordan went slightly cross-eyed watching his sister make him up, and Wendy made a face back at him.

"Are you wearing each other's favorite colors? That's sweet."

"Well, we want to look good to everyone, but we mostly want to look good for each other," Quentin said. "And his favorite color is really flattering on me." Wendy went "aww" and finished blending the foundation in with a flourish.

"You're too cute. Okay, TJ, close your eyes and keep them closed until I say you can open them." She had a light touch with the makeup brushes. Quentin was kind of fascinated by the process, watching her do Tyler Jordan's eyes in shades of brown and gold with a wicked wing to his black eyeliner. "Okay... will you be all right if I put mascara on you or are you gonna flinch?"

"I just poked myself in the eyeballs, I'm not afraid of your mascara wand," Tyler Jordan scoffed. "Go for it." She snorted and leaned in close, and Tyler Jordan had to bite back laughter to keep still as she made his lashes dramatically longer and fuller. He batted his eyes at her when she finished, and Quentin made an approving hum and tipped Tyler Jordan's chin to look at him.

"Wow. Your eyes look huge."

"I know how to make brown eyes pop," Wendy said. "Now, your eyes..."

"Uh... finish him first," Quentin said, and Wendy grinned.

"Yeah, yeah. What's wrong, haven't you ever worn makeup before?"

"On stage, but not like this."

"TJ, smile for me and hold it... yup, perfect." She brushed blush onto his cheeks and buffed it into a rosy glow. "I'll do your lipstick now, but I'm gonna have to touch it up before you leave. I just want you to see how it looks all done."

"Yeah, sure. I’ll try not to ruin it right away,” Tyler Jordan said. Quentin snorted.

“I make no such promises. If he looks kissable, I’m gonna kiss him.”

“I always look kissable,” Tyler Jordan said with a laugh. “And you always kiss me.”

“Okay, lovebirds, cool your jets for a minute! TJ, open your mouth like this…” Wendy demonstrated, and Tyler Jordan did it, letting her paint his lips a bright scarlet. “Purse them… All right, press them around this tissue… oh, wow, yes, perfect.” Tyler Jordan looked up at them and made a kissy face, and Quentin shook his head slightly.

“You’re very pretty and I feel conflicted.”

“You feel conflicted now, wait until I put the wig and the dress on,” Tyler Jordan purred. “I’m gonna get you so mixed up by the end of the night. You won’t know what the fuck to do with me.”

“Oh, you’re way overestimating your own powers of confusion if you think I’m gonna forget what to do with you just because you put a dress on. And I did play straight long enough to have a clue what to do with a woman, anyways. One way or another, I know exactly what the fuck to do with you.” Quentin smirked. “Your come-hither eyes are really amped up right now. I think Wendy might do me up as a clown if I ruin your lipstick immediately though.”

“Don’t try me,” Wendy said threateningly, pointing an eyeliner pencil at Quentin. “Your turn. Sit down and stop talking.”

“Ouch.” Quentin pressed a hand to his heart. “I’m wounded, Wendy. Deeply.”

“Shut up or I’m gonna make you look like a prostitute.”

“Please don’t make my future husband look like a whore,” Tyler Jordan said. “I still have to take him home at the end of the night and I don’t want people getting the wrong idea.” Quentin just stared at Wendy with his lips pressed together and his eyes plaintively wide.

“That’d be some next level Pretty Woman shit right there,” Wendy said, and started going after Quentin with the foundation. “My demisexual brother in drag bringing home a crossdressing hooker with a heart of gold.”

“I don’t have a heart of gold,” Quentin couldn’t keep silent for very long. “Maybe like…. tarnished brass.”

“Demiwhat?” Tyler Jordan said. “And you’re not brass, Q. Just because I’m the only one who realized how precious you are doesn’t make you any less precious.”

“Demisexual,” Wendy said.

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“Probably? You said you only want to have sex with people you already have feelings for, right? That’s basically demisexual.”

“I thought I was bisexual? Where’d this demi thing come from?”

“Tumblr,” Wendy said, and Quentin made a sound of disgust. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, if you’re marrying Quentin, you’re effectively Quentinsexual.”

“I like the sound of that a lot better,” Quentin said, and Tyler Jordan snorted. “I’m very strongly in favor of you identifying as Quentinsexual, please adopt that immediately. Just take everyone else out of the running.”

“You would like that,” Tyler Jordan said. “Sure, lemon drop, whatever makes you happy. Since I’m apparently redefining my sexuality every time I talk about it. I’m bidemiQuentinsexual. Okay.”

“Quentin, close your eyes… and if you open them you’re gonna get stabbed in the eye,” Wendy said.

“How come he got the nice warning and I get the threat?”

“I’m trying to speak your language.”

“Oh, fair enough.” Quentin closed his eyes, smirking, and Wendy got to work giving him a sage green smoky eye look with just enough wing on the eyeliner to make the smudged shadow look perfect. By the time she let him open them again, Tyler Jordan had changed into his dress, and Quentin’s eyes widened when he caught sight of the spaghetti straps baring Tyler Jordan’s broad shoulders and the flared skirt swishing around his legs just above the knee. “You’re too hot,” he said, almost whining, and Tyler Jordan grinned.

“You’re pretty hot too. Let me see…?” Quentin blinked slowly, and Tyler Jordan whistled. “Wow, your eyes look so intensely green. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Not done yet,” Wendy said. “He still needs mascara and lipstick. Think I’m gonna skip the blush though, he looks good pale.”

“I’m not that pale,” Quentin said, and Wendy snorted.

“You are too. Especially right now. Do you blush when you drink? No one will be able to tell tonight.” Tyler Jordan walked around the apartment, gratuitously swirling the skirt around his legs, and Quentin’s eyes followed him until Wendy clicked her tongue to get his attention back. “Mascara. Do you flinch?”

“I have nerves of steel.”

“Nerves of steel and a heart of brass?”

“Heart of stone, maybe,” Tyler Jordan said. “Precious stone. You have a heart of ruby, Q.”

“I’ll accept that,” Quentin said, and he held very still as Wendy got his lashes, sighing when she pulled the mascara wand away. “Don’t give me red lipstick.”

“No kidding,” Wendy said. “Go put your dress on so I can pick the right shade.”

“Fine…” Quentin disappeared into the bedroom, and Tyler Jordan grinned at Wendy.

“So? How do I look?” He did a slow spin to show off, and Wendy gave him a thumbs up. “Help me with the wig?”

“Of course.” He’d picked a dark bob to frame his face, and Wendy helped him get it on properly, adjusting it until it was perfectly straight. “There. You look super pretty. This actually reminds me of how Kendall wore her hair senior year.”

“I was kinda thinking about that,” Tyler Jordan admitted. “Figured I could bank on the family resemblance to find something flattering.”

“Well, good job!”

“Tyler Jordan?” Quentin called through the cracked-open door. “Could you help me? I can’t get this zipped up.”

“Absolutely!” Tyler Jordan came in to find Quentin looking almost demure, holding the dress up around his shoulders. “Oh, I see what happened.” Tyler Jordan eased the zipper down where it had gotten caught on lace, trying hard not to be too openly thrilled about the fact that Quentin had given in and was wearing the male lingerie Tyler Jordan had been trying to get him into for half a year. He’d halfway thought that Quentin might change his mind at the last minute, but no, they were both wearing lace-trimmed silky underthings under their pretty dresses. Tyler Jordan zipped Quentin’s dress up carefully and stroked his fingertips up the back of Quentin’s neck, making him shiver.

“Don’t get me all riled up before we even leave the house.” Quentin was smiling when he turned to face his fiance, though. “Thanks.” He stole a quick kiss, then a slower, firmer one, and Tyler Jordan laughed and settled his hands on Quentin’s narrow hips through the soft fabric of the green dress.

“Can I help with anything else? Or did you already…” He ran a foot up the back of Quentin’s calf to find his leggings already on. “I know you just put it on, but I’m already thinking about getting you out of it.”

“You’re the one who wanted to go bar hopping,” Quentin said. “I’d be just as happy to go to one party and come home when we’ve had enough.”

“We have to show off, though. We look amazing.”

“Who do we have to show off for? We could just go to Preston’s. Most of the people we care about impressing are gonna be there at some point tonight.”

“I was planning on making Preston’s our last stop before coming home,” Tyler Jordan said, reaching up to wind one of Quentin’s curls around his finger. “Figure by ten thirty everyone will be there, you can really freak David out because he’ll be too high to cope with you in a dress, you’ll probably have to chase Max away from us or he’ll just follow us around the party making moon eyes all night…”

“I didn’t think about Max’s reaction,” Quentin said, biting back a laugh. “Is it bad that I wanna tease him? He spent so long teasing me that it seems fair.”

“I think you’re within your rights to tease him back… just don’t get his hopes up,” Tyler Jordan said. “Cause I’m pretty sure the conclusion he’d like to jump to is back into our bed.”

“I’m still not sure if that was a stupid thing to do in the first place or not.”

“Stupid? Possibly. But fun? You definitely had fun.”

“We all did. Doesn’t mean I wanna do it again.”

“Then don’t let Max think you do.” Tyler Jordan gave Quentin’s hair a tug and let the curl bounce out of his fingers. “I know I have no plans to let anyone else touch you once I slide that ring on your finger on Friday afternoon. And I’m nowhere near as possessive as you are.”

“Hello? Did you get lost? Are you ruining his lipstick already?! I’m not done with your makeup yet, Quentin!” Wendy called through the door. Quentin smirked and kissed Tyler Jordan again, this time with the intent of messing up his lipstick, before coming back into the living room with his lips stained red. Wendy rolled her eyes at him. “It was a question, not a suggestion!”

“We all knew it was gonna happen,” Quentin said. “At least I did it before we were both wearing different colors.”

“Ugh. And I can’t even blame it on you being newlyweds yet.”

“Well, I mean, it’s not like we’re holding off on anything until we get married,” Tyler Jordan said. “I think the newlywed stereotype applies more to the waiting-til-marriage folks.”

“Of which you almost were one,” Wendy reminded him, and he sighed. “I bet the two of you get ridiculous right after you get hitched anyways.”

“I plan on it,” Quentin said, looking very smug. “I’m gonna keep him so busy.”

“Oh, are you really,” Tyler Jordan said. “Cause I had the same intention for you. We should compare plans.”

“Save it,” Wendy said, and she swiped at Quentin’s mouth with makeup remover. “I don’t care what you do after I leave, but I don’t need the details of your sex life.” She held up two lipsticks and frowned slightly. “These both match. Which one do you like better?”

“Uh…”

“The more noticeable one,” Tyler Jordan said. “I can never stop looking at his stupid beautiful mouth, make everyone else notice it too.”

“How about the less pink one?” Quentin said.

“Well, that is the more noticeable one, so you both get what you want,” Wendy said. “Do this with your mouth…” She demonstrated, Quentin copied her, and she added severely as she painted his lips, “and don’t ruin it immediately. At least leave the apartment before you do. This color should last a long time, but not if you intend to wreck it.” Quentin rolled his eyes and pointed wordlessly at Tyler Jordan until she finished.

“If it gets wrecked it’s his fault. I already messed his up, he’s probably gonna retaliate.”

“Oh no,” Tyler Jordan said, raising his hands defensively. “I’m not messing with yours until we get some epic photos first. I mean, by the time we get home, it’ll be gone, but at least for a couple hours I’m planning on behaving. Kinda. Maybe.”

“You’re such a bad liar,” Wendy said. “Get over here so I can fix yours.” It only took her a moment to do it, and then she looked at them critically, brow slightly furrowed. “Okay. You look pretty good! What do you think?”

“I think he looks classy,” Tyler Jordan said. “I have a feeling I don’t look that classy.”

“You look like a vamp,” Quentin said. “Not trashy. But provocative.”

“I am provocative,” Tyler Jordan said. “But am I pretty?”

“I already told you you’re pretty, now you’re just fishing for compliments.” Quentin took a step back and gave Tyler Jordan a lingering head-to-toe glance. “You’re gonna freeze tonight. But you look lovely.”

“I will not. I run hot, I’m gonna be drinking, and we’re gonna be in crowded places. I’ll be fine.” He gave Quentin the same evaluating look, then grinned. “You don’t look like yourself. I think you’re gonna freak people out when they realize it’s you. Especially if they’re already lit.”

“Well, by the time we see the people who know us, they’re all gonna be toasted, so… game on, I guess.” Quentin shrugged slightly and offered Wendy a slight smile. “Thank you, Wendy. You’ve been invaluable.”

“Don’t worry, I’m calling this favor back in pretty damn quick. When are you both available this week?”

“This week?”

“Yes. I want you in the studio before Friday.”

“Why?”

“Because my studio lighting assignment is due on Monday and I want to have the weekend to edit the photos.”

“You want us to model?” Quentin sounded appalled. “I’m not photogenic.”

“Shut up, you are too,” Tyler Jordan said. “Just because you’re vehemently anti-selfie doesn’t mean you don’t photograph well. I have so many good shots of you.”

“Yeah, and I have to yell at you to keep them off Instagram and Facebook because you’re a social media slut and I’m not clickbait,” Quentin said, and Tyler Jordan sighed.

“You’re not clickbait, you’re the love of my life. And I almost always listen to you. But speaking of photos…” He handed his phone to Wendy and wrapped an arm around Quentin’s shoulders. “We need a good shot of us all prettied up. And this is going on Facebook.”

“Did you shave your armpits too?” Quentin asked, barely suppressing laughter. “You way overcommitted to this.”

“Shut up, I’m beautiful.”

“You’re both right,” Wendy said, aiming the phone at them. “Smile…” She took a few shots, grinning. “All right, there you go. You’re both gonna turn heads tonight.” Handing his phone back, she pointed at her brother with a mock-stern look. “I need you both this week. Don’t forget. I’m gonna harass you until you comply.”

“Hail Hydra,” Quentin muttered, shaking his head. “Text him tomorrow, neither one of us is gonna remember after tonight. If he even survives the night. I told you not to buy heels…”

“You told me not to buy stilettos,” Tyler Jordan corrected him. “I didn’t get stilettos. I got kitten heels. Because I’m brave. You should have gotten something with a heel, I’m gonna tower over you tonight.”

“Brave or stupid? Anyways, I’m not as graceful as you are. And you need someone stable to catch you when you inevitably topple over.”

“Inevitably? Please.”

“I’m gonna pay attention to how much you drink tonight because I’m gonna call it right here-- you fall over after drink number eight. And I’m gonna be right there to catch you when you do.”

“You’re on.”

“But when you fall over, that’s when I’m taking you home.”

“Buzzkill.”

“I’m a buzzkill? Really? Do you need me to spell out what I’m gonna do to you after I take you home?”

“Please don’t,” Wendy said, “Or wait for me to leave before you do.” She zipped her makeup bag closed and gave them both another look. “Here, you’ll need this before you go to bed, unless you want your makeup to stain your pillowcases.” She handed Quentin a bottle of makeup remover and a handful of cotton pads. “Use that, then wash your faces.”

“Unlikely, but thank you,” Quentin said. “You’ll probably see the evidence of tonight on his Instagram before you see us again.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” she said. “Have fun. Be safe. I’ll text you tomorrow.” She kissed Tyler Jordan on the cheek and added, “Don’t embarrass your fiance,” before heading out the door. Tyler Jordan pouted at Quentin.

“I’m not an embarrassment, am I?”

“Maybe a little bit when you’re super wasted. Don’t get that drunk tonight, okay? Cause it would be a shame for those sexy undies to be wasted on a case of whiskey dick.”

“I’m not gonna take myself out of commission,” Tyler Jordan scoffed. “Are you kidding? After as much of a fight as you put up before you put on the panties once, I’m not banking on getting you back into them.”

“Well, they’re not as uncomfortable as I thought they would be,” Quentin said. “The silk is kind of nice against my skin.”

“I can’t wait to get you out of that dress and see how it looks on you…” Tyler Jordan ran a hand down Quentin’s side and toyed with the fabric at his hip, grinning. “You look great in the dress, though. This was a fantastic idea.”

“Let’s go break some hearts, then.”

They’d barely been at the first bar for twenty minutes before someone bought Tyler Jordan a drink, which delighted him almost as much as the amount of handsy Quentin got in response to it, settling a hand on Tyler Jordan’s ass and keeping it there possessively until Tyler Jordan dragged him onto the dance floor. A guy in a Slenderman costume tried to cut in with a hand on Quentin’s shoulder, and Tyler Jordan let him go gracefully, laughing at the way Quentin lit up to see someone dressed as his favorite creepypasta. It didn’t even take an entire song for Quentin to find his way back to Tyler Jordan, looking miffed. “That creep tried to grope me,” he complained. “Give me your drink, I’m gonna go throw it in his face.”

“No way, that’s a waste of good tequila,” Tyler Jordan said. “You know better than that. Do you need me to defend your honor?”

“How about we just go to the next place,” Quentin suggested. Tyler Jordan knocked back the last of his drink and they headed for a place a few blocks away. He looked around as they went in, then grinned.

“This is where we met.”

“Yup. Right over there.” Quentin pointed at the bar. “I couldn’t stop looking at you and your black eye.”

“I was so miserable. And then you made me forget all about how bad I felt.”

“You’ve repaid that a thousand times over,” Quentin said softly, lacing their fingers together and tugging Tyler Jordan over to the bar to order them shots of Fireball. “Here’s to drowning our sorrows in each other.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Tyler Jordan agreed, clinking their glasses together before downing the shot and shivering. “Damn, that always gets me. You and your thing for spicy.”

“You like me spicy,” Quentin said with a grin. “You wouldn’t like me if I was bland.”

“You’re definitely not bland.” Tyler Jordan reached up to wind a curl around his finger and tug gently on it. “You make my life so interesting.”

“So do you for me. You’re a different kind of spicy.”

“Good evening, ladies,” a deep voice behind them said. Quentin arched his brows at Tyler Jordan and they were both smiling when they turned around. The tall man blinked twice, looking from Quentin to Tyler Jordan and back again, and said, “I’m still going to offer to buy you both a drink because you look amazing from behind, but I’m not going to flirt with you after all.”

“Fair enough,” Tyler Jordan said, laughing. “See, Q, I told you I’m not the only person in the world who appreciates your butt.”

“Honestly, I’m a little disappointed that it was so easy to see through.”

“If you’d been alone I probably wouldn’t have known right off the bat,” the guy said. “If that makes you feel any better. But you’re a little obvious,” he said to Tyler Jordan, who shrugged.

“I’m not really trying to fool anyone,” he said. “Just trying to look pretty.”

“You do look pretty. You both look pretty. But I’m trying to get laid tonight and you’re not exactly my type.”

“We’re spoken for anyways,” Quentin said, reaching for Tyler Jordan’s hand. “But thanks for the compliment.” He did buy them drinks before he moved on to try his luck with a sexy witch further down the bar, and Quentin couldn’t repress his amused expression as he looked his fiance over. “You really don’t look feminine,” he said. “Your jaw is too strong and your shoulders are too wide.”

“Not to mention the lack of breasts,” Tyler Jordan said, smirking. “You think I should have stuffed a bra? I didn’t want to ruin the spaghetti strap look.”

“No, absolutely not. You fashionista.”

“Don’t get mad when I say this, but you do look feminine.”

“That’s the point,” Quentin said, but he ducked his head so a few curls fell into his face before looking up at Tyler Jordan through his lashes. “As long as you don’t tell me that tomorrow.”

“I will be very careful about my choice of adjectives.”

“You do that.” Quentin sipped his drink and looked around the bar. “When do you wanna go to Preston’s? I didn’t realize how objectified going out like this was gonna make me feel… it’s uncomfortable.”

“People are still gonna be objectifying you at Preston’s,” Tyler Jordan pointed out, and Quentin’s lips twisted wryly.

“Yeah, but at Preston’s I can get stoned enough to not care if people stare at me. And I think I’ll care less if it’s our friends doing it.”

“Oh, that’s fair. Okay, I’ll get an Uber now.” It took them another forty minutes to actually make it to Preston’s house, which was packed with people, almost all of them known, most of them in pretty decent costumes. Quentin split off to go find David and Preston where he knew they’d both be, in Preston’s weed sanctuary room. David was wearing a Mickey Mouse bowtie and had his wild curls pulled into mouse ears, passing the bong back to Preston in his Goofy vest and yellow hat when Quentin came in and neatly intercepted the pass.

“Mind if I cut in?” he asked, pitching his voice an octave higher, trying to hold back his laughter when both his friends visibly perked up.

“Spark it up, sweetheart,” Preston said, handing Quentin a lighter. This was clearly not the first bowl they’d packed, and for all that David was some kind of genius he wasn’t particularly quick on the uptake at the best of times. Quentin wondered how long it would take one of them to figure it out but was going to have as much fun with it as he could before someone twigged on. He tossed a flirty wink at David before hitting the bong like the pro smoker he was, pursing his lips to blow out the smoke above their heads, and cocked his hip slightly when he handed the bong to Preston.

“Have you been here before?” David asked, looking more impressed than puzzled. “You’re one of Emily’s friends, right?”

“I know Emily,” Quentin agreed, not lying. Emily didn’t particularly like him, but she didn’t like many of Preston’s friends.

“Cause I didn’t know any of Emily’s friends could take a hit like that,” Preston said.

“I’m just special, I guess.” Quentin tucked his hair behind one ear and looked around the room like he hadn’t spent hours every month for the past two years hanging out there. “This is a pretty nice setup you’ve got here. Looks like you’re dedicated.”

“This is ten years’ worth of paraphernalia,” Preston said proudly. “Every piece I’ve owned since I started smoking, except for the ones that broke. This is my happy place.”

“It’s a very happy place,” David agreed, “it’s one of my favorite places. Preston is great at atmosphere.”

“I’d say.” Quentin wandered around the couch to inspect the huge brass hookah on the table, casually tugging one of David’s hair puffs as he passed. “This is cute, you ever fire it up?”

“Only on special occasions,” Preston said.

“Not just any run-of-the-mill party, huh?”

“Preston throws a lot of parties,” David said, staring at Quentin with wide blue eyes. “Didn’t you say you’ve been here before?”

“You said that, not me.”

“But you have. I’ve definitely seen you before.”

“Did I make an impression?”

“You look familiar, that’s all.”

“I’ve seen you before. You work at Walmart.”

“Yeah, I do. Is that where I saw you?”

“I guess I didn’t make that much of an impression.” Quentin turned back to the hookah, shoulders shaking with poorly stifled laughter, and then he felt a gentle touch against his hip and turned to find David holding out the bong again, brow furrowed as he studied Quentin’s face.

“You’re not…” He frowned. “You’re too cute for me not to remember you.”

“Oh, you’re sweet.” Quentin took the bong, blew a kiss at David and hit it again, but the smoke came out in puffs when he dissolved into laughter, not able to keep up the pretense any more. “Do you really think I’m cute?” he asked in his normal voice. “You never said before. Actually, you said I wasn’t your type.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Preston said, and Quentin rolled his eyes and pulled his hair back from his face, shaking his head.

“Oh, you dick,” David said. “Quentin. Dude. You make a frighteningly attractive woman. Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t recognize me,” Quentin said. “I don’t look that different.”

“I don’t think you have any room to bitch when people call you girly any more,” Preston said. “If all it takes is a little makeup and hairstyling for you to pass.”

“I feel betrayed,” David said. “That was entrapment. How dare you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Dave. Now I know you’re secretly into me, I can’t trust you any more. God only knows what you might try to pull.”

“You’re so sketchy. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“You know exactly where I’ve been,” Quentin said, rolling his eyes. “You’re the sketchy one, eyeing me up like that. What would Tory say?”

“Dude, no,” Preston said as David’s face fell. Quentin’s brows pulled together. “Poorly timed.”

“What happened?”

“Tory broke up with me three days ago,” David said, looking miserable. “I’ve basically been sitting here stoned since then. I haven’t been back to our apartment except to grab a bag, I can’t even show my face at Walmart because she left me for Randy.”

“Oh, no way. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t realize I was hitting you when you were down.” David sighed heavily and sunk lower into the couch, and Preston patted his shoulder gently.

“He’ll be okay. I told him he can stay here until he finds a place. We were gonna take the van and go get his shit while she’s at work on Monday. And the cat.”

“You’re taking her cat?”

“I’m taking my cat,” David said. “I’m the one who feeds him, I’m the one he cuddles up to, he’s my cat.”

“Okay, yeah, but she’s the one who brought it home…”

“If she wants the cat back she can fucking beg me for him back after she apologizes for cheating on me for six goddamn months and then I’m gonna laugh in her face and keep him anyways.”

“He’ll like it here better,” Preston said. “Poor thing’s been cooped up in that tiny apartment, soon he’ll have a whole house to run around in.”

“Are you talking about Shadow or about Dave?”

“Don’t be cruel, Quentin.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry, man, you deserve better than her anyways.” Quentin patted his other shoulder and pushed the bong back into his hands. “You go get your cat and chill with Preston, he’ll take good care of you.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Preston said. “Strategic vengeance against exes and post-breakup support. We’re taking the bed too, bitch can sleep on the couch.”

“Let me know if you need an extra pair of hands,” Quentin said. “I’m always down for revenge. And Shadow likes me.”

“That’s because you speak cat,” David said. “Ninety percent hiss and ten percent purr.”

“Cats are my spirit animals,” Quentin said. “Cats don’t take shit from anyone. When I die, I wanna be reincarnated as a cat.”

“When you die, you’re gonna be reincarnated as a mosquito,” Preston said, and Quentin pinched him on the back of the neck. “Ouch! Bitch, try that one more time and see if you ever get high in this house again.”

“You won’t remember you made that threat tomorrow,” Quentin said confidently. “But I’m gonna leave you alone now. I have to go find Tyler Jordan before he falls over in the heels I told him not to wear.”

“Tyler Jordan’s wearing heels? This I gotta see,” Preston said, standing up. “David? Care to brave the crowd with me?”

“I can’t deal with people right now,” David said. “Bring me a drink when you come back.”

“Can do,” Preston said, following Quentin out and down the hall. “Why is he wearing heels?”

“Because he wanted to,” Quentin said. “For what it’s worth, he really makes them work.” They kept to the edge of the room while Quentin looked around for his fiance, but he caught sight of the other person he was looking for first, and cut through the crowd to catch a finger in Max’s silk scarf and twist it a little tighter around his neck. “Hello, Max.” Max turned and then did a double-take, dark eyes going wide. He had a pair of aviator goggles holding his hair back, and a leather bomber jacket stretched across his shoulders.

“Well. Hello, beautiful. You’re looking ravishing tonight. Where’s your better half?”

“I was hoping you knew the answer to that question.”

“I haven’t seen him, but if you came as a pair I think I’ve been looking for the wrong indicators,” Max said. “I can make an educated guess, though. Want to compare guesses?”

“He’s probably in the garage,” Quentin said. “Bet he’s got an instrument in his hands when we find him.”

“I’m not going to take a bet I know you’ll win.” Max offered his elbow. “But I’ll escort you out, if you like. You’re too pretty to be left on your lonesome tonight.”

“Oh, so you can pretend to be a gentleman.”

“Excuse you. I’m such a gentleman.”

“I know exactly what you are, Max. And it’s not a gentleman.” Max grinned, absolutely unabashed, and Quentin smirked slightly and took his arm. “You recognized me right off.”

“I’m a pop punk singer. Boys in makeup are a major demographic.” He leaned a little closer and added, softer, “And I will never forget the way you say my name. Dead giveaway.” Quentin’s smirk widened as they walked through the kitchen and out to the garage. There were fewer people out here, but still a lot of them, and in the back corner Tyler Jordan was sitting on two amps stacked together, head bent over Max’s guitar. Max stopped stock-still for a second with a quiet gasp, then dropped Quentin’s arm and pulled out his phone to capture the moment. “Oh my god, red is his color.”

“Wipe your chin, drooling is undignified,” Quentin said, then skirted the edge of the garage to come over to Tyler Jordan’s side. “Ignoring the party?”

“I have a higher calling,” Tyler Jordan said, glancing up at Quentin through his lashes and smiling. “It came to me all at once, I just had to see if it works on the guitar as well as it works in my head.”

“What’s the verdict?”

“I need a second opinion.” A moment later, Max walked over, followed by Preston, who whistled.

“Christ, Quentin, you weren’t kidding.”

“What wasn’t he kidding about?”

“You make those high heels work. And I say that as the sole straight member of the band.”

“You think?” Tyler Jordan stretched one leg out and pointed his toes. “They look all right.”

“They look amazing,” Max said. “You look amazing. You both look amazing, how do you both look so good tonight?”

“Magic,” Quentin said. “A visit from the fairy godsister. Don’t ask what happens at midnight.”

“I’d like to observe what happens at midnight,” Max said. Tyler Jordan shook his head slightly, shooting Quentin a look that clearly said I told you not to get his hopes up. Quentin rolled his eyes.

“The pumpkin only seats two,” he said. “And it looks like you need to fly yourself home tonight, Amelia.”

“I’d get lost in the Bermuda Triangle,” Max said. “You don’t really want me to disappear forever, do you?”

“He’s staying here tonight,” Preston said. “Casa del Brooks is filling up. What are you doing, Tyler Jordan?”

“Listen,” he said, turned the amp up a little, and started playing. Preston’s fingers started tapping the beat against his leg, and Max’s head tilted slightly as he got a thoughtful look. After about a minute he trailed into silence and looked up at his bandmates.

“Is that what we were working on on Wednesday?” Max asked.

“Yeah. I know it’s not the direction we were going with it, but I think it’s interesting…”

“It’s definitely interesting,” Max said. “Here, let me see it…” Tyler Jordan stood up to take off the guitar and wobbled slightly as he handed it to Max. Quentin smirked as he steadied him.

“How many drinks have you had?”

“Six,” Tyler Jordan said, and stuck his tongue out. “I didn’t fall over.”

“Yet,” Quentin said, and wrapped his arm around Tyler Jordan’s waist. Max played the last few bars of what Tyler Jordan had played and spun it out a little more, and Tyler Jordan clapped his hands together.

“Yes! Oh, that’s a hook. Yeah. Shit, I need to write that down, what happened to that notebook?”

“It’s right here where it always is,” Preston said, handing it to Tyler Jordan. “You two are a little bit creepy, you know. The way you sync up about music.”

“Tyler Jordan is my songwriting soulmate,” Max said, and he smirked at the venomous look Quentin shot him. “Just musically. I’m not trying to steal your fiance.”

“As if you could possibly be competition,” Quentin scoffed.

“Calm down,” Tyler Jordan said, pencil flying.

“You’re my RL OTP,” Max said. “I ship it so hard. I’d be heartbroken if you broke up.”

“They’re your what now?” Preston said. Tyler Jordan had to pause, laughing too hard to hold the pencil steady, and Quentin reached over and twisted his hand in Max’s scarf.

“Don’t fuck around with me, Parker,” he said. Max widened his eyes innocently and tilted his head back slightly, and Tyler Jordan sighed and wrapped his hand around Quentin’s wrist to pull him away.

“Quentin. What did I tell you before we left the apartment tonight.”

“I’m not,” he protested, and Tyler Jordan gave him a disbelieving look, then cut his eyes over to Max, who was looking more than a little flushed. “Uh… I wasn’t intentionally.”

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on here but I’m gonna leave you to it,” Preston said, “and please never enlighten me.” He walked away quickly. Tyler Jordan finished writing, looked at his fiance and then at his singer, and sighed.

“We’re not taking you home with us,” he told Max. Max reached up and adjusted his scarf, staring at Quentin, who looked back at him unblinking.

“It’s very unkind of you to start something you don’t intend to finish,” he said. “Next time you start pulling on my scarf, I’ll follow you home like a lost puppy and whine until you pay attention to me.”

“You said you only wanted one night,” Quentin said. Max pursed his lips, glancing at Tyler Jordan.

“No. I said I thought you’d only agree to do it once. I won’t beg for a repeat. But if you start yanking me around by my neck, I’m taking it as the same kind of invitation it was the last time you did it.”

“It’s not,” Quentin said flatly.

“Then don’t take liberties with me,” Max said. “I wasn’t being sarcastic when I said I ship it. I think you guys suit each other. But don’t tell yourself you didn’t enjoy having me there when you can’t keep your hands off me now. I have feelings too, and they matter. Tyler Jordan respects my space. But you, Quentin, you’ve been saying one thing with your mouth and a whole other thing with the rest of your body. You wanna tell me not to fuck with you? I’m not doing anything I wasn’t doing before you took me to bed. You’re the one who’s acting different.”

“I’m not--” Quentin stopped himself short, biting down hard on his lip, and Tyler Jordan tugged gently on his wrist.

“He’s not wrong,” he said softly. “I told you to leave him be.”

“I’ll say this once, very clearly, and then it’s on your head,” Max said. “The next time you touch me, I’ll touch you back. And it’s either going to be a kiss or a punch. Figure out which one you want before you lay hands on me, or I’ll choose for you, but you know what direction I err in.” He looked at Tyler Jordan and shrugged slightly. “You heard me say it. So don’t be surprised if and when it happens.” He took his guitar off and put it back into its case, then turned his back on them and went back into the house.

“Why do you have to be such an asshole?” Tyler Jordan asked, pulling Quentin against him. “I told you not to get his hopes up. And then you go for his throat. Literally.”

“I wasn’t even trying…”

“You get possessive,” Tyler Jordan said softly. “Did you get possessive of Max? You were so worried about how I would feel that you didn’t check yourself?”

“That’s not…” Quentin deflated, slumping against Tyler Jordan with a whimper. “Oh, fuck, I did, didn’t I.”

“What’s going on in your head, Q?” Tyler Jordan tangled a hand in Quentin’s hair and tugged lightly. “I was so sure of you. Should I not have been?”

“No, don’t-- don’t doubt me, please, don’t.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“No. Tyler Jordan, I just-- please take me home. Let’s go home. I can’t stay here. I fucked up. Let’s just go.”

“Shhh. It’s okay. We’ll go.” Their Uber car came pretty quickly, and Quentin was subdued on the ride home, hair falling over his face as he stared down at his hands folded in his lap. Tyler Jordan slid his hand over Quentin’s, lacing their fingers together. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Quentin said quietly. “I really don’t.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“You have a right to be.”

“What good would it do? You have some explaining to do, for sure, but you know it takes more than that to make me angry.” Tyler Jordan shrugged. “I don’t even want you to try to explain tonight. I think it’s a conversation we need to be sober to have. I think you’re more shaken than I am right now.”

“Yeah…”

“Don’t make yourself feel bad about it, okay? I don’t want you getting lost in your head tonight. We had plans for when we get home, I’m not ready to give up on them.”

“Oh, hell no, we’re not giving up on them. I’m not that shaken. And now I feel like I have something to prove.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“My devotion to you.”

“Sounds promising,” Tyler Jordan said, and Quentin squeezed his hand, smiling slightly. “I love it when you feel like you have something to prove. You’ve done some very interesting things on those terms.”

“No kidding,” Quentin said, tracing a fingertip across Tyler Jordan’s palm. “Don’t abuse it.”

“Abuse your sense of pride? I wouldn’t dream of it. Lean on it, sure, but not abuse it. I’m only interested in building you up, not breaking you down.”

“You only ever have.” They let go of each other to get out of the car, but as soon as their apartment door closed behind them Tyler Jordan dug a hand into Quentin’s curls and kissed him hungrily.

“Can I get you out of that dress now?”

“You’ve been very patient,” Quentin said, kicking off his flats as he walked to their bedroom, peeling the leggings off unceremoniously. “I think you should unzip it for me.”

“I can definitely do that,” Tyler Jordan agreed, following him in after abandoning the kitten heels and the bob wig in the living room. He swept Quentin’s hair to one side and kissed the nape of his neck before lowering the zipper on the dress. Quentin turned to push Tyler Jordan onto the bed, standing in front of him and leaning to kiss him again before shrugging the dress off his shoulders. It dropped to the floor, revealing a lacy red camisole and lace-trimmed silk panties doing absolutely nothing to disguise Quentin’s growing arousal. “You look so pretty,” Tyler Jordan breathed, and Quentin gave him a skeptical look.

“I look ridiculous,” he said, tucking his hair behind his ears and glancing down at himself. “This lace looks absurd on top of my chest hair. I’m not suited for these sorts of frilly things.”

“Shh, I think you look amazing. You’re not wearing it for yourself, you’re wearing it for me, and I love how it looks on you.”

“Yeah, well…” Quentin sighed and spun around slowly to give him a better view. “Enjoy it, cause I don’t think I’m putting it back on.”

“Not even the panties? They make your ass look super cute.” Tyler Jordan caught Quentin closer with a hand on his silk-covered ass and Quentin wiggled as Tyler Jordan goosed him. “Really, really cute.”

“They’re not terrible, I guess.” Quentin put a knee up on the bed next to Tyler Jordan, biting his lip when Tyler Jordan tickled his balls through the silk. “They’re actually surprisingly comfortable. You know, for panties.”

“Well, they were designed for guys, I’d imagine ladies’ panties wouldn’t be so… accommodating.” Tyler Jordan pulled Quentin onto the bed and atop him, looking up at him with a grin.“Tell me what you want tonight,” he said, and Quentin tossed his head.

“You wanted me in the lingerie, I’m sure you had an idea of what to do to me when you got me into it,” he said. “Anything you want. I wanna make you happy, what’ll make you happy?”

“Oh, that’s such an open-ended question.” Tyler Jordan leaned up to kiss him, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve got conflicting impulses… part of me thinks I should treat you like you’re precious and part of me just wants to ruin you.”

“Definitely ruin me,” Quentin said eagerly. “You do both, you know. Even when you’re messing me up I know how much you treasure me. They’re not mutually exclusive. Fuck, most of the time when you’re messing me up you’re doing it because I asked you to do it.”

“Yeah, but you look so pretty tonight, I feel bad about it.”

“That’s all the more reason to do it. I might look pretty but I’m not some girl you brought home. Don’t treat me differently. Or do you need me to blindfold you and have you go by touch?”

“Don’t even try it,” Tyler Jordan said, wrapping a hand in Quentin’s curls and giving them a sharp tug. Quentin looked smug as he gasped, and Tyler Jordan pulled his head back a little harder and bit his neck, sucking a mark into the skin before he let go. “On your knees, then,” he purred, and Quentin caught his hands under Tyler Jordan’s thighs and pulled him to the edge of the bed as he slid off, settling himself between Tyler Jordan’s legs and looking up at him through his lashes with his lip between his teeth. “Oh, Q, you’re too much…”

“You better rein me in, then,” Quentin said, pushing the skirt of Tyler Jordan’s dress up his thighs. “Cause I have no plans to dial it back.” Tyler Jordan’s panties were all soft lace, cerulean blue, and Quentin licked him through the fabric, then made a face. “Oh, that’s a weird texture. No.” He tugged them down just enough to pull Tyler Jordan free, then lapped at him again, a wet stripe up the underside of his cock that ended with Quentin’s lips pursed prettily around the tip.

“Hang on,” Tyler Jordan said, and he pulled the dress off over his head and cast it aside. Quentin arched his brows. The spaghetti straps of the red dress had left Tyler Jordan’s shoulders bare, but he’d been wearing a bandeau to match the panties underneath it all along. “I don’t want anything blocking my view of this,” he said, and tapped himself against Quentin’s lips until Quentin opened his mouth and let him inside. Tyler Jordan wound his fingers into Quentin’s hair and pulled him down, groaning as Quentin swallowed around him. “God, you’re beautiful like this, pretty and filthy at the same time.”

Quentin hummed an acknowledgement, one hand sliding up Tyler Jordan’s stomach to trace along the lace wrapped around his chest and seek out a nipple through the flimsy cloth. Tyler Jordan made a breathy sound and tightened his grip on Quentin’s hair.

“It’s funny… this was the first thing you ever did to me and I never, ever get tired of it. You have the most amazing, wicked mouth.” His other hand cupped Quentin’s cheek, his thumb tracing Quentin’s lower lip before pulling his mouth a little wider open and thrusting deeper. “I love how much you love doing this to me.” Quentin glanced up as he pulled back, smirking with everything except his mouth, and held Tyler Jordan’s gaze as he sank back down until his lips brushed wiry curls. “Ah, fuck, you’re perfect.” Quentin scored his nails down Tyler Jordan’s flank in lieu of a reply and kept doing his best until Tyler Jordan’s hand in his hair pulled him off.

“I was busy,” he said, and Tyler Jordan huffed a laugh.

“I’m not ready for this to be over yet. Unless you have some objection to me fucking you tonight?”

“My objection is that you’re talking about it and not just doing it,” Quentin said, voice gone husky. “Are you really asking permission?”

“I’m just being polite,” Tyler Jordan said, pulling Quentin up onto that bed with that hand in his hair. “You’re so pretty it’s throwing me off, I know you like being manhandled already…”

“I’m never wearing makeup again, you treat me too courteously.”

“I’m pretty sure there wasn’t anything courteous about the way I was just fucking your face,” Tyler Jordan laughed, and Quentin smirked and sprawled out on his back, pulling Tyler Jordan on top of him and catching him in a biting kiss.

“You were right, though… I love doing that to you. Letting you do that to me? Whichever. I love it.” He reached for the bedside table and found the lube by touch while he was busy kissing Tyler Jordan again, then pressed it into his hand. “And I love this. I love almost everything you do to me.”

“Almost?”

“I don’t love it when you make me ask for everything I want.”

“Oh, but I love hearing you say it,” Tyler Jordan cooed, “especially when you say please. That’s my favorite.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Quentin said, and Tyler Jordan snorted. “Yeah, I know, not as lucky as I am that you love me. Will you fuck me now? Please?”

“Of course.” Tyler Jordan pulled the red panties to one side and slowly sank his thumb into Quentin, biting his lip at the way Quentin moaned and arched into the touch.

“Come on, come on,” Quentin said, curling a leg around Tyler Jordan’s waist to pull him closer. “Now, please, right now. Show me I’m yours.”

“So hasty, you won’t even let me get you ready.” Usually he’d tease, but they’d both been thinking about this all evening, and Quentin had said please. Tyler Jordan gave himself a stroke to get slick and pressed into Quentin all in one steady thrust, just the way Quentin liked it best. Quentin made a sound of pure pleasure, head falling back, and Tyler Jordan took the blatant invitation to bite at his throat and the place where his neck met his shoulder.

“Yes,” Quentin hissed, nails digging into Tyler Jordan’s biceps, “fuck, yes, like that!” Tyler Jordan gripped Quentin’s hips as he drove into him, changing the angle until Quentin’s gasps turned into throaty moans and he shivered with sensation. Tyler Jordan got a hand between them to wrap around Quentin’s cock and lifted his head to meet Quentin’s eyes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he purred, and Quentin reached up to tug his hair. “Love you so much.” Quentin didn’t answer with words, just curled up to meet him halfway in a hungry kiss and fell back to the pillow with a cry as Tyler Jordan gave it to him faster and deeper as he raced toward his own close peak. It didn’t take long for him to get there, and he came with Quentin’s name on his lips, Quentin’s hand on the back of his neck, Quentin’s eyes looking up at him full of passion.

“You make the best expression when you lose it,” Quentin said, squeezing the back of his neck gently. “Hot and a little goofy. Don’t leave me hanging…”

“I would never,” Tyler Jordan said, still breathless, and tightened his grip, stroking Quentin quicker. “Tell me what you want?”

“This, just this, keep doing this.” Quentin leaned up for another kiss and whimpered when Tyler Jordan bit his lip and kept working him over, pulling him over the edge with a practiced touch, knowing exactly how he liked it and giving it to him gladly. They traded lazy kisses as they settled next to each other, and Quentin glanced down and laughed. “This camisole is ruined, I guess I have to get rid of it.”

“Are you kidding? I’m keeping it as a souvenir of tonight,” Tyler Jordan said, dragging a fingertip over the come-stained silk.

“Is this a thing you do now?”

“I won’t ask you to put it back on… I’d rather see you in the green one next time.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“Fine, I’ll wear the green one. I think I look cute in the lacy things.”

“You do look cute in the lacy things. It suits you a lot better than it suits me. I’m done looking ladylike, it was interesting for a night but I’m not fond of the way anyone treated me when I was all dolled up.”

“I think you looked beautiful…” Tyler Jordan kissed him again, then added, “but I like you better the way you really are.” Quentin smirked and slid out of bed, pulling the camisole off and tossing it at the hamper, then kicking the equally ruined panties down his legs. He tossed a glance back at the bed through a curl falling into his face.

“I’m taking this makeup off and hopping in the shower. I need to look like myself again. You coming?”

“Not twice in twenty minutes,” Tyler Jordan said, but he got up to follow Quentin into the bathroom after a yawn and a stretch across the bed. It had been a very interesting night… but they both wanted to end it washed clean of the feminine trappings and back in boxers in their own bed.