"Hey," Travis greeted, quieter than usual. Cozying up next to the blonde, he became part of his partner's morning routine. A plain bagel with low-fat cream cheese already sat waiting on a plate on the counter. A cup of straight, black java – no cream, no sugar – was the remaining component to his daily breakfast. His preferred mug sat next to his bagel, awaiting the steaming liquid filler.
Wes felt the brush of his partner's body against his before he heard his voice whispering in his ear. He tried his hardest not to turn into the sound, to lean into what he now knew to be a strongly defined body. Instead, he reached for his mug, breath straining in his chest from the effort it took to resist Travis' charms. It took all his control to steady his grip while filling the mug, his hand shook so much. "Hey," he whispered back, refusing to look up and embarrass himself. Or worse, draw attention to the two of them.
Travis set his usual, chipped mug onto the counter before taking the coffee pot, fingers brushing against Wes' hand in the process. "I was wondering if I could come by later, after we finish our shift. Bring a six pack and a pizza or something."
He chewed his lower lip, memories of the last time Travis had dropped by surging straight towards his cock. Play it cool, he told himself. Try not to jump him here in the break room. "I suppose you could intrude on my evening. What's the occasion?"
That smile – the one that caused panties to drop on command, his included – creased Travis' face in an epic manner. "I've got something for you," he hinted before walking away.
Wes' cock throbbed, pressing eagerly against his tailored slacks. Swallowing hard, he followed his partner out into the department. Sliding into his chair, he leaned across his desk, glaring at Travis. "You did that on purpose."
Travis grinned, the look alone telling Wes he knew he had him hooked. "That's a yes then?"
"Yes," he growled, wondering just what the hell he was getting himself into now… and whether he'd regret it in the morning.
Travis knew it really wasn't fair to tease Wes like he had, but he couldn't help himself. Ever since he'd stumbled into Wes' hotel room two weeks ago and found him parading around in a dress, all he could think of was getting him back into one. Or, more specifically, out of one.
Although, he had to admit, rucking up the back of that sundress and taking his partner over the back of the couch had been some of the best sex he'd ever had, definitely the kinkiest to date. Maybe getting the dress off wasn't as big a priority as he'd thought? Eh, he'd figure it out later. Right now, making Wes squirm had top priority.
And that would explain the box currently sitting on his kitchen table. A pretty blue frock, cradled in tissue, wrapped in pristine white paper and topped with a silver bow. He wasn't sure if it was quite Wes' color or hell, if it even would fit. But he figured they'd have one hell of a time finding out, right? One of his foster moms had told him that it wasn't always the results that made the journey worthwhile, sometimes it was the journey itself.
He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. These thoughts were rapidly moving in the wrong direction. Travis glanced up from the phone he'd been holding and saw his partner staring at him. Shit. "Sorry man, my brain wandered. What was that again?"
Wes smirked – smirked! – at him and repeated his question. "I was asking you if you managed to eat before you got here this morning because we have three witnesses to interview and a suspect to lean on. You need to keep up your strength."
The tip of Travis' tongue slipped out and traced the curve of his lower lip. "Yeah, power-filled breakfast," he assured the blonde. "Full of meat and other protein."
A faint pink tinged Wes' pale cheeks. "So glad to hear it. Means we can skip lunch."
With a wink and a flourish, Wes stood and grabbed his suit jacket. He was halfway out of the room before Travis realized he was walking away. "Damnit, Wes, wait!"
A throaty chuckle was his partner's only response.
"You really have something for me," Wes asked, half afraid Travis had only been kidding that morning. "Or are you screwing with me?"
Travis leaned an elbow on the center console, chin resting firmly in his hand. He raked his gaze across his partner, taking in every visible inch of his perfect body. "I desperately want to be screwing with you, Wes, which is why I have that little gift I mentioned."
The blonde took a steadying breath, his gaze falling to the bulge of bicep poking out of Travis' t-shirt. His mind flashed to those two, shapely arms crushing him to an equally well-defined chest, slick with sweat. "So you'd really like to come over… later?"
"The sooner the better," Travis agreed, "but not before you're ready."
"I think I'm ready whenever you are." He chuckled, embarrassed. "Or, at least, that's what my body is adamantly telling me."
Travis barked a laugh. "I hear that. I should have known that teasing you was teasing me, too. So what do you think, buttercup? Meet back at your place in an hour?"
Wes thought for a moment before nodding, calculating how much time he might need. "Yes, that will work."
Travis dipped his head in agreement, unbuckling his seat belt. "I'll see ya in an hour then, beautiful."
His hand was on the door handle when Wes blurted, "Travis, wait."
"What? You okay? Change your mind?" He turned a concerned face on the blonde.
Wes flushed deeply. "I – I was wondering… uh…"
Travis couldn't be sure, but the level of anxiety washing off the other man hinted strongly at what he was too afraid to ask. He moved his hand off the handle and leaned back across the console. "Wes baby," he began, fingers lightly tracing idle patterns on his partner's thigh, "whatever makes you more comfortable. Surprise me. Suit or sundress, you're one fine man and I'd be an idiot to complain either way." He placed a chaste kiss on Wes' cheek before exiting the car.
He sat there for a moment, staring after his partner's retreating back. That Travis thought him attractive no matter how he was dressed was something that hadn't occurred to him before. If that was true then… no. He shook his head, clearing out all other thoughts. Wes decided that tonight, he'd pull out all the stops and really sock it to the devil of a man. He'd hook Travis Marks and he'd hook him good.
Since his last encounter with Travis, Wes had been practicing. He honestly hadn't believed Travis would ever want to come back around, but on the off chance he did, he wanted to be prepared. So, he'd taken to doing his makeup every night, whether anyone ever saw him or not. Practice makes pretty after all.
And now he had his chance to prove that that night hadn't been a fluke. Wes had even gone shopping – it wouldn't do for Travis to find him in that same old outfit, would it? Not that he'd splurged and bought himself an entirely new wardrobe, but he had acquired a couple of new dresses, just in case.
He briefly debated between the classic black calf-length and the more spirited magenta one that hit just above the knee. His first instinct was to go old school, but something told him Travis would be happier with something more playful. Flirty even. The magenta won the day.
With practiced ease, he pulled the fabric over his head, slipped his arms through the holes and let it settle around his muscular thighs. Wes gave himself a good long look in the floor-length mirror he'd bought while shopping, critically appraising his new outfit. It fit well, giving highlight to his toned thighs and calves, something his suits didn't. A familiar knock at his door pulled his attention away from himself and back into reality.
Travis stood on the other side of the door, cleaned up and dressed up – his version of it anyway – in new jeans and a lavender button-up. The white paper of the package he held stood out starkly against the pastel hue of his shirt. His trademark grin, dialed down a notch or two, lit up his face. "Well look at you," he teased out, admiring Wes' new dress. "You didn't have to do all this for me, baby."
He lifted a pale shoulder in feigned indifference, moving out of the way so Travis could enter. "You know what they say, 'don't be a drag just be a queen'."
"What?" Travis gasped, giving the blonde a sideways look, grinning at him. "On second thought, never mind. I'm just awed at how different you are tonight."
Wes closed the door and lifted an eyebrow in question. "Different?"
"Yeah, you're more… I dunno, relaxed, I guess. Is it the outfit or the ah-maaa-zing sex we had?"
As the heat filled his face, Wes looked away briefly before meeting his partner's questioning gaze. "I don't honestly know. Maybe it's just you?"
"If I made this change in you then I will happily take credit. I like it when you smile." He touched the tips of his fingers to Wes' cheek, drawing them down along his jaw line. "And one of these days you'll have to tell me what you use to get such a clean shave, too. Such soft skin."
Wes pulled away, half embarrassed, half tempted to show him how soft the rest of him was, too. "I moisturize, okay?"
Travis reached a hand out, gently grasping Wes' forearm. "Hey man, relax. I wasn't making fun, I swear. It's actually really… nice."
He fixed his eyes on Travis', searching for even the slightest hint he was lying to him, finding none. "I'm sorry," he admitted. "I'm just so – so used to you picking at every single thing I do or say that I…"
"…automatically assume that everything that comes out of my mouth is therefore a joke or an insult. I guess I deserve that. I'm trying, Wes."
A smile tugged at a downturned corner of Wes' mouth. "I know you are. And I – I like this, too. The 'new you'. You're still annoying but in a much nicer way."
"I'm so happy to hear that. I was afraid I was going to have to take my gift back," he teased.
"Speaking of which," Wes hinted, grinning and holding out his hands like it was his birthday. Maybe Travis was right and the clothes had more to do with it all than he'd thought?
"Boy, you really aren't the same boy I used to know, are you?" He handed the package over, eager to see the look on Wes' face when he opened it.
"What can I say? That night we shared changed things for me, in a lot of ways. Mostly good, so I'm trying to hold onto it. Not let myself get so…" His voice trailed off, resistant to calling himself out on any of his annoying personality traits.
"Anal," Travis suggested. "Uptight? Persnickety? Am I getting warm?"
Wes pursed his lips, playfully. "I can tell you this much, Mister," he gave the larger man a spirited push with both hands, "if you keep that line of questioning up much longer, you'll be getting warm somewhere else."
Two dark-skinned hands lifted in surrender. "Okay, okay, baby, I was kidding! You can stand down, I swear!"
Wes chuckled, pressing his lips against Travis' cheek, leaving a bright pink imprint behind. "I'll forgive you… this time. Now, may I open it?"
The room was flooded with the power of his thousand-watt smile. "Please. I've been dying to give it to you since I bought it last night."
Wes gave him a look before sitting on the arm of the couch, smoothing the skirt of his dress after. Situating the box in his lap, he fastidiously untied the ribbon, setting it aside. Sliding a finger under one corner flap, he peeled the paper wrapping back and off the box underneath. He studied the familiar store logo on the top of the box noting that it wasn't the cheapest anchor in the mall, but not the most expensive either. Travis had put some thought into whatever he'd gotten him, but he'd not broken his strained budget for it either. Wes made a mental note to compliment him on this later.
Tugging the lid off the box, he pushed the tissue paper aside, smiling. Nestled inside was a fabulous peacock blue dress. "Hold this, please," Wes asked, standing and handing the box to Travis.
Travis took it from his lover, watching as the blonde pulled the dress out and held it up before him, shimmying from side to side. Layers of chiffon ruffle cascaded down the skirt of the dress, falling in a playful pile. The sequined straps led to a flirty V-neck that, on an ordinary woman, would expose a fair amount of cleavage. He wished briefly for a set of breasts and then realized he was probably better off without them.
"Well, what do you think?" Wes held the gorgeous material up against him, letting it fall against his body in a way that suggested it would look magnificent on him. "I think I might even have a pair of shoes to match."
Travis' grin was uncontainable. "I think you need to go try it on right this second."
Wes' mouth turned up in a seductive smile. "I thought you'd never ask."
Zippers were always tricky, but his daily yoga routine had paid off, giving him just enough flexibility to work most of them on his own. The back fell open, giving him room to wiggle out of one and into another. A smile wormed its way onto his face, the thought that he was playing dress up for his partner of all people was simply absurd. That Travis was going to repay him in a most glorious way was beyond comprehension. And yet, it was going to happen.
Wes rehung the hot pink dress, contemplating whether it would need cleaning or not. He'd only worn it for a short span of time… but he could worry about the details in the morning. Maybe even in the afternoon if things went like he hoped. Travis was waiting.
Holding out the dress, he gave it a good once over, taking in the layers of loose ruffle and the addition of sequins along the neckline. The color was perfect, something he would have even picked for himself. It was dark enough to bring out the blue in his eyes but not so dark as to look like funeral attire. Both flirty and sexy, it would be perfect for a first date or even a special event. His lover had done an excellent job with this gift.
"Wes," Travis called, singing his name, "I'm waiting baby."
Focusing on the present, Wes slipped out of the matching magenta heels he'd donned for the night and rummaged in the closet until he uncovered the box containing the summery leather sandals he thought would go perfect with the new outfit. His memory held as the turquoise accents were precisely the color of the frock's material. Placing the footwear on the bed, he turned back to the dress.
Wes slipped into the new outfit like costume changes were old hat. Lifting one foot, he slid into one old sandal and then the other. They were one of the few things he'd held onto after he'd left that life back in college. Having met Alex had changed so many things. His extracurricular activities being a big one. Sometimes, moments like this one, he wondered if she had been worth the sacrifices he'd made.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he admired himself in the full length mirror. Somehow, Marks had even managed to figure out the right size, not an easy task considering he was buying the dress for another man. However, when he thought about it, his partner had had his hands on every last part of his body that night. He probably had a better idea of Wes' proportions than he did himself. A visual of Travis trying to simulate his body shape to the confused sales clerk flitted through his brain bringing a smile to his face.
The chiffon fell perfectly against his hips, flaring just enough to give the illusion of curves where he obviously had none. Despite the low plunge of the neckline, his well-defined pectorals gave enough bulk to the front to keep it from being embarrassingly loose. He smiled at his reflection, fluffing his short hair with his fingers.
"Hmm," he hedged, "I think just a touch more lipstick. I smudged myself kissing that bum."
"I heard that," Travis said from much too near to be the living room.
"You'd better not be outside my door waiting, Marks," Wes threatened, smiling, knowing there wasn't anywhere else he could be.
"Who me," he responded, voice moving back down the hallway.
"Thought so," he muttered, amused at how easily that had worked.
Taking one last look at himself, he decided it was now or never. Flipping off the bedroom light, he left the safety of his sanctuary and went to face his lover.
Travis had seated himself on the middle couch cushion, elbows on his knees, hand hanging loosely in front of him. He was looking everywhere but the direction Wes had disappeared, trying to keep his cool and losing the battle. He heard the swish of his partner's shoes against the plush carpet and looked up. His mouth opened but no words emerged.
Wes stopped just outside Travis' reach, waiting. "Well?"
"Well," Travis began, unable to vocalize his awe. "I have to say, I did good."
Laughter burst out of the blonde. "Wow. There's no need to be quite so modest, Marks."
Travis had the good sense to blush at this rebuke. "That didn't come out right. What I meant to say is you look incredible. I was worried it wouldn't fit or be quite your color but…"
"But you were very wrong," Wes informed him. "It fits perfectly."
"I can see that," he whispered. "Come here." He held out his arms in a welcoming gesture. Wes hesitated as if unsure before taking an awkward step forward. "Are you wearing that sexy little thong again tonight?"
Wes shook his head. "Not quite, but I think you still might be impressed."
Travis quirked an eyebrow, suggestive smirk firmly planted on his mouth. "Oh, now this I've got to see. Show me, baby."
Intending to torture Travis, Wes drew his fingertips up, from knee to hip, bringing the gauzy material of the dress along with them. Inch by inch, he revealed long, muscular stretches of flesh until the barest hint of white lace showed beneath his fingers.
"More," Travis instructed, biting his lower lip. "I want to see it all."
Wes turned so he was facing away from Travis, bringing his entire rear into view. Drawing his hands the rest of the way up, he revealed his lace covered backside to his partner. The white satin of his panties hugged his firm buttocks, the Victorian laced edges cupping and accenting his natural assets.
"Good lord," Travis groaned. "I swear to god that has got to be sexier than even the thong."
"I thought so," Wes teased, letting the dress fall back into place. Travis grunted in disappointment.
"You need to come closer, let me get my hands on you."
"What's the magic word, Marks? You can't just order a girl around and expect her to do your bidding."
A sultry chuckle filled the room. "So if I sweet talk you, does that mean you'll do my bidding? Because that sounds promising."
One pale shoulder lifted casually. "You might be surprised. After all, you've already buttered me up with such a pretty dress."
Travis crooked a finger and motioned Wes closer. "C'mere, buttercup. I want to touch you and taste you and make you the happiest girl in the world, but I can't do that when you're so far away from me."
"Well, that's a start," Wes conceded, moving closer to Travis' skillful hands. "But you still haven't said 'please'."
"Please," he choked out, "let me touch you. Let me run my hands along that soft skin. Let me strip you naked and fill you with my cock. Let me fuck you, baby. Please."
Wes thrust a hip out to the side, causing the ruffles on the dress to sway seductively. "That's no way to talk to a lady," he scolded playfully.
"Normally I'd agree," Travis said. "But considering the filthy words coming out of your pretty little mouth the last time we were together, I didn't think you would mind."
Wes curtsied, conceding the point.
"Just what I thought," Travis crowed, triumphant. "Now get that tight little ass over where I can get my hands on it. As pretty as those panties are, they have got to come off."
The blonde moved into Travis' space, stopping just barely out of reach. He slipped his hands beneath his dress and shimmied out of his panties. Bending daintily, he unhooked the satin and lace confection from his foot and flung them at his lover. Travis caught them with one hand, pressing his face into the silky material.
"Am I allowed to keep these?" His voice was hopeful and desperate at the same time.
"If it makes you happy," Wes said. "You can have whatever you want."
"Well then," Travis replied, drawing his words out. "What would make me happy would be for you to climb in my lap."
Wes looked at him curiously, wondering what Travis had planned, but he'd promised himself he'd follow his lover's lead, even if he didn't understand it. "As you wish."
He lifted his dress and straddled Travis' lap, a knee on either side of his thighs. His bare ass settled against the tops of Travis' legs, the stiff, new denim rubbing roughly against his sensitive parts. It only made Wes harder, reminding him of Travis' way of handling him during sex. Coarse and harsh and utterly fucking fantastic.
Travis smoothed the palms of his legs along Wes' exposed skin. Tugging nervously on the dress hem, Wes fluffed the material out, surrounding them both in a small pool of blue fabric. It was a weak attempt at modesty, considering what he'd already said and done so far this evening, but from Travis' groan of approval, he found it incredibly sexy all the same.
"So, here I am," Wes teased, hoping for a little more instruction.
"Yeah, you sure are," Travis agreed, one hand wrapping around the thick length of Wes' cock. "And I don't plan on letting you leave either."
Wes rocked his hips forward, craving the delicious friction of the other man's skin against him. He didn't think he'd make it very long at this rate, but he wasn't sure he cared, either. Travis had proven to him the last time that he had no problem with making him come over and over again.
"Fuck," Travis murmured, appreciatively. "You are so damn hard and I am so damn ready. Been thinking of you all day."
Wes sighed, reveling in the slide of Travis' hand on his cock, the occasional tease of his thumb over the head. "Let me up and we can go…" His voice trailed off as he angled his head towards the bedroom.
"Nuh-uh," Travis said. Wes whimpered when he released his cock, the absence of his warm skin leaving him bereft. "Lift up onto your knees."
Wes did as he was told, rising up as best he could. Travis reached between them, working at the buckle on his belt. The sound of his zipper followed shortly. He leaned forward as Travis wriggled his jeans down over his hips and past his knees, Wes barely brushing his lips against Travis'.
"That is unfair," he growled, biting at Wes' lower lip.
"I always thought that was the point?" He knew it was a cheap shot, but Travis made it so easy sometimes.
"The point is to make me so crazy I fuck you so hard you can't walk? That I flip you onto your back here on the floor and make you scream loud enough to make your neighbors come running? If that's what you are aiming for, well, then congratulations. You win."
Wes' cock leaped, hoping Travis would make good on his promise. "You know me so well, but I dare you to try."
"You're going to regret that," Travis promised.
He'd gone in search of the lube Wes had procured the last time he'd been over. Having found it in the end table, he made sure it was within easy reach. They both knew it did no good to have Wes hot and ready and begging for his cock if he had to go find it again. Pulling the tube out, he squeezed a dollop into his hand. He reached under the material covering his lap and stroked his erection, slicking himself up.
Wes watched Travis stroking himself beneath the spread of his dress. His own hands were in reach of both of their cocks, but he was unsure if he should touch either of them. Travis liked having complete control in these situations. And he had to admit, he took more than a little pleasure out of being told what to do and when to do it. He spent entirely too much time in control.
Travis leaned forward, biting Wes' bare collarbone. "I want you to sit on my cock. Lift up for me, pretty girl." Wes hesitated, unsure of how this was going to work. Travis took his hesitation as something else, however. "Try it for me baby, let me bury myself inside you. Ride my dick and I promise to make you scream."
He bit his lip hard, the flesh turning ruddy in an instant. "Will you… can we…?"
"Like last time," he urged, knowing what Wes wanted. "Yeah, you better believe it. I'll fuck you on your knees twice if it's what gets you off, but do this for me first, can you do that?"
Wes nodded, eagerly. Memories of last time swamped his brain, Travis' weight against his back, fingers pulling at his hair, teeth in his shoulder. The skin that was missing from the palms of his hands and the caps of his knees the next morning. "I – I bought a mirror," he whispered.
"You want me to take you in front of the mirror?" His chest rumbled with laughter. "You are a naughty, naughty little girl. And you know what? That turns me the fuck on."
Travis cupped Wes' ass with his hands, spreading his cheeks and pressing his cock to Wes' entrance. "Ride me, baby, make me come."
"Yes sir," Wes agreed, cautiously lowering himself down onto his lover's erection. "Oh god."
"See," Travis muttered, face pressed to Wes' neck. "I told you. And it's only going to get better."
Travis was right. At first, his movements were awkward and uneven, but before long, he'd gotten the hang of it, his hips rocking and taking every inch his lover sported. Two dark hands steadied him at the hips, holding him securely as he thrust downward, meeting Marks' return thrusts greedily. Wes looped one arm around Travis' neck, the other gripping the back of the couch tightly. Wes' motions picked up speed, his body moving faster against his partner. He whimpered in joy, letting Travis know that moving one hand to his cock, squeezing and rubbing desperately, was absolutely the right thing to do.
"Can't leave you out, can I?" Travis' words whispered across his skin, his lips ghosting along the curve of his jaw. "Want you to come right along with me. You like that, baby?"
Wes whimpered again, embarrassing himself with his need. "Yes," he gasped. "Please Travis."
"Anything for my baby," he promised, punctuating it with an upward thrust of his hips. Wes fell against his chest at the sudden upheaval, chuckling softly as he nibbled at Travis' neck.
Wes righted himself, placing a steadying hand against Travis' broad shoulder. He tried to slow his rhythm, but it was impossible. Travis seemed to understand this and picked up his own pace, stroking Wes more eagerly. His mouth fell open but no words came, only the harsh sound of his breathing. "Trav," he begged, unable to say anything more.
The tightening of Travis' large hand against his ass said he understood. He pulled Wes against him roughly, eliciting an excited squeak out of the blonde. Wes' pace increased, urged on by Travis' grip on his dick.
"Fuck baby," Travis grunted, thrusting hard with his hips, meeting Wes halfway. "So beautiful, so damn eager."
Wes felt his lover's legs stiffen below him, hips arching into his ass. Travis' head fell back against the couch, eyes squeezed closed. A pleased grin spread across Wes' face, knowing he'd done his job well. Fingers burrowed into the flesh at his hip and tightened around his cock as Travis exploded within him. His lover pressed upwards against him, emptying himself fully.
Panting, Wes waited until his partner's movements slowed and finally ceased. Sure that he'd finished, the blonde moved to leave Travis' lap.
"Nuh-uh," Travis denied him, "not yet, honey." His hand found Wes' cock again, still throbbing with unspent need. A few quick strokes had the blonde begging for mercy, fucking into his partner's strong, skillful fingers. "Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about. Gonna make you come right now."
The pride in Travis' voice sent Wes over the edge. His decorum fled and he pumped his cock against Travis' palm greedily, coming faster than he'd though he could. Wes felt the heat of his release splatter his legs, knowing it was covering them both. Travis released his grip on Wes, sliding his free arm around his waist.
"I think you've ruined another dress," he murmured, kissing the curve between neck and shoulder. "You might have a problem there, buttercup."
Wes shivered at Travis' touch, leaning into the kiss. "I do have a problem," he confessed. "It's known in these parts as having a horny ass partner with no respect for his lover's brand new outfits. Luckily, I have a good drycleaner who knows how to be discreet."
Laughter rumbled against Wes' chest, Travis couldn't deny it because it was true on so many levels. "Well then, I guess the only solution is for you to be naked the next time I arrive. Would hate for you to go broke cleaning all these pretty dresses."
A faint flush colored Wes' skin. The thought of answering the door in the buff – or better yet, in nothing but a sexy pair of panties – was encouraging. "Mmm, maybe next time," he teased.
"Next time," Travis scoffed. "How about when I get back from bringing us some food? I still have a promise to fulfill."
Impossible as it seemed, the reminder of what Travis had promised him caused excitement to stir in his belly. "But if I do that, neither of us will get to eat."
"I'll get us sandwiches," Travis suggested. "Something that we can eat cold."
Wes laughed, the sound filling the room. Leave it to Travis to be so ever-practical when you least expected it.
He was gone nearly twenty minutes. In that time frame, Wes had managed to clean up himself, the couch, and find a bottle of wine he had forgotten he had. It was a red and wasn't likely to go well with anything Travis might bring home, but he'd learned that sometimes you had to roll with the flow. He was sitting on the couch in a purple silk robe he'd treated himself to a month or so ago and nothing else.
When the knock came, Wes opened the door and smiled at Travis on the other side, several bags of food in each hand. "Man," he complained, giving Wes the once over. "This is not what we agreed on."
He moved aside so his partner could enter his home. "Yeah, I know," he agreed, rubbing a hand against his chin, "but this hallway has a tendency to be busy this time of night. Last thing I need my neighbors to see is, well, everything."
Travis took the food into Wes' tiny kitchen, setting the bags on the counter. "Good news is, only one of them is permanent – you."
"Point," Wes agreed. "But still. I'd rather not."
"I can live with that, but on one condition." Intrigued, Wes nodded for him to continue. "You better not be wearing anything under that robe."
Smirk firmly in place, Wes lifted the hem of his robe just enough to hint at what lay beneath – nothing but miles of firm, pale skin. "What's with all the bags? How much do you eat?"
Chuckling, Travis started to unload his purchases. "Well, see, at first I thought, 'just two sandwiches' because I had no intention of spending all that much time eating." He looked up and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "But then, I thought we'd need to keep our strength up so I added some chips to the mix."
Here, Wes made a face and Travis ignored him. For one night, Wes figured he could eat the foods of the commoner. He knew he should be thankful Travis had at least bypassed the chain store that was closer to the hotel and opted for the deli just a bit farther down the road.
"And this?" Wes waved a hand at the pink box he was holding. "That didn't come from the sandwich shop."
"Naw, sure didn't," he agreed holding the box under Wes' nose for a moment. "There just so happens to be an all-night donut shop next door to the deli you like so much."
Wes blinked. "Donuts? Really Travis? What do we need donuts for?" A fleeing thought as to the condition of his figure if this relationship continued darted through his brain. It was quickly snuffed by the sweet smell of fried dough and icing.
"Yeah, we're going to need breakfast right? And besides, I mean, hello, cops." He vaguely waved a hand between the two of them as if that said it all.
Something fluttered in the pit of Wes' stomach. "Breakfast?" He planned on staying the night? He wasn't sure if he should be terrified or thrilled. He decided on a little of each.
Travis' smile faltered for the briefest moment before it righted itself. "Yeah, you plan on kicking me out after your next orgasm or something?"
"No," he said, then cleared his through and said more strongly, "of course not. I – I've just not… well, hand any overnight guests is all."
"Other than Hudson," he teased, reminding him of the friendly K-9 companion of their co-worker, Randi.
"Hudson was different," Wes teased. "He didn't seduce me and eat all my food."
"It's obvious Hudson has his priorities backwards," Travis deadpanned, attention focused on unwrapping their sandwiches. "Because number one on my list is seducing you. You got plates?"
Wes' sex-addled brain took a moment to catch up with the change in the conversation. "Yes, plates. Behind you, top shelf. Also, I found wine."
"This is one damn fancy hotel," Travis muttered, retrieving two plates. "Kitchen, dining room, wine… it's like a small apartment."
"I bought the wine." Wes shrugged away Travis' awe, embarrassed for a whole other reason this time. "It's an executive suite. This particular hotel caters to a large contingent of traveling businessmen who don't want to be bothered with renting an apartment when they're only in town a week or two a year. But they also need all the comforts of home, so to speak." He shrugged again, out of words to explain any further. He held out a glass of the red to his partner, waiting.
"It's nice, whatever it is. Fancy and fitting, to be honest." He saw something strange pass across Wes' face and hurried to add, "But in a good way. I can't see you living in a place where you'd have to go out every night for dinner or have no real closet space for all your clothes. Know what I mean?" Taking the proffered glass, he sipped tentatively.
He nodded, agreeing even if it upset him a bit. His money had always been a bit of a sticking point between them, even if Travis usually only ever used it as a way to get him riled up. Taking a sip of the wine, he forced it all aside, determined not to let those usual things come between them right now. They could fight at work tomorrow. Heaven only knew they probably would.
"Absolutely. Hand me one of those plates, I'm starving." He held out a hand and Travis handed him a plate loaded with a sandwich and an excessive pile of chips. "What did you get me? It looks fantastic."
"The most pretentious sandwich on the menu," he goaded. "Turkey with brie, apples, and Dijon mustard."
Travis waited while Wes' face contorted into something akin to frustration. "Pretentious?"
He couldn't stand it, he laughed. "I'm kidding. It just sounded like something you'd like. You're always eating that brie and pear and prosciutto sandwich at the station."
"It's chevre, not brie, but close enough," Wes conceded, pulling a chair out so he could sit.
"What?" Travis had his sandwich halfway to his mouth, still standing at the kitchen counter.
"Chevre. It's goat chee—you know what? Never mind. Just come sit." He pointed to the chair next to him. "And you might try it sometime. With this salt addiction of yours, you'd probably love it." Travis looked at him sideways, unbelieving. "I have a lovely tart that would wipe that look off your face."
"I'll take your word for it, blondie." He pulled out the chair beside Wes and sat, stuffing the sandwich in his mouth.
Wes shook his head. "You know, you plan on spending any time with me outside of work – and outside of my bedroom –"
"Can't say we've spent much time in the bedroom even. Most of it has been on the couch," Travis corrected.
"Yes, thank you for reminding me of what a whore I am every time you come around," Wes sighed. "But my point is, I will not consistently eat this kind of thing, no matter how good this sandwich actually is."
"So, what you're saying is that, if I hand around much longer, I'm going to have to start eating frou-frou food?"
"Maybe sometimes. It can't always be take out and deli sandwiches, can it?"
Travis shrugged noncommittally. "It's worked for me so far."
"And that would explain a lot," Wes muttered.
"You're lucky you're so willing to do what I want or I might just get offended at what you're insinuating, Wesley."
Wes stood, plate in one hand, desperately trying to keep his rising anger in check. "You can go home any time, Marks. Just keep it up and I'll take your spare key away."
Travis stopped chewing. "You're kidding, right? You wouldn't do that to me, not now. Would you?"
"Keep making fun of me and the way I eat and you might find out." He'd never do it, especially not now, but Travis didn't need to know that. Any opportunity to have the upper hand, Wes was going to take it. Even if it was a bit of a sneaky way to do so. "Are you done eating yet or are you going to plow through that entire sandwich?"
"Well, that all depends on whether you're ready for round two already. If not, I'm going to keep eating." He lifted half of his sandwich in salute.
Wes took his plate into the kitchen and set it in the sink, not washing it for the first time in probably his entire life. Reentering the dining room, he tossed his lover a flirty smile, never slowing as he exited into the living room.
Travis dropped his sandwich and followed.
Wes hadn't ever been more thankful to see a Pepto-pink box of fried dough in his life. Popping the lid open, he grabbed the first donut he found and tore off a large chunk. Sprinkles stuck to his lips but he was as far from caring as humanly possible. His stomach growled even as he chewed. He made a mental note to either a) never let Travis spend the night ever again or b) eat more throughout the day because a passionate evening with Detective Marks left a girl hungry.
The source of all this hunger sidled up behind him, wrapping a strong arm around his waist. Wes reached for a second donut - a Boston Creme this time - before leaning back into Travis' embrace, inhaling the scent of his own cologne on the other man's skin. "Thank you," he muttered around a mouthful of custard. "You were right about the donuts."
"There's never anything wrong about a box of donuts," Travis assured him, stealing the lasf bite of Wes' for himself. "But there is a lot wrong with being late to work. I gotta go so that doesn't happen."
"As if," he joked halfheartedly. Wes pulled away from Travis then, turning to look at him sadly. "You have to leave already?"
"If I thought I could squeeze my ass into your jeans, no. But I don't see that happening, baby. Forgive me?"
"Of course," Wes assured him, moving back in for one last, long hug. "When duty calls, we must answer."
Travis squished him tightly before letting him go. "I'll see you in an hour. Promise." He pressed a quick kiss to his partner's cheek, afraid of what anything more intimate might initiate.
"One hour," Wes repeated. "I'm holding you to that."
"I'd expect nothing less," Travis told him, snagging a donut from the box before leaving Wes alone in the kitchen.
With the donuts. Of which he ate four more.
After their first encounter, Wes had been nervous about seeing Travis at work the next day. Would he pretend like nothing had happened or would he outright reject Wes? Or worse – would he make fun of him and out him to the entire precinct? Much to his surprise – and totally to Marks' credit – he'd been completely normal about the situation in the daylight that had followed. Well, as normal as Travis ever was about anything. He'd kept the jokes to a minimum and never where anyone else could her him. The flirting, on the other hand…
Travis had decided that, simply because they'd had spontaneous sex, it was okay to flirt shamelessly with Wes. He'd always teased, blew kisses, silly little things, but it hadn't ever been as blatant as it was after that night. Now that they'd not only gone and done it again, repeatedly, but Wes had allowed Travis to stay. He was a touch afraid of where the flirting was bound to go today.
He looked back at the box of donuts, thinking of reaching for yet another. They taunted him right back. "Fuck you, Mister Donut," he growled, storming off to shower and dress like a cop for a change. "You don't own me."
He had tried to take his time, really he had. To scrub his body and shampoo his hair, relaxing under the hot spray of water. Letting the heat work out all the kinks in his aching muscles. But truth be told, he couldn't wait to be back by Travis' side. Having beaten his partner back to the station by at least thirty minutes, Wes couldn't do anything but wait. And it was killing him.
"Good morning, Kendall," Travis called as he entered the building just after eight A.M. "How are we today?"
Wes' head snapped up at the sound of his voice. Travis was late, as per usual, but not by nearly as much as he usually was. He'd broken his promise by eighteen minutes and Wes wasn't sure if he should give him hell for that or not. "It's about time," he said instead. "You're late."
Travis smirked, plunking his rear end into his desk chair, resting his elbows on the desktop calendar. "Ooh, by five whole minutes."
He lifted his wrist into the air and tapped the watch face. "Try eighteen."
"Aw," Travis cooed, "you missed me. You were counting the minutes."
Wes glared at him, partly ticked that Travis was already teasing him and partly ashamed because he had been watching the clock until he'd shown that stupidly perfect face of his. "Was not," he mumbled.
"Was too," Travis shot back playfully. "Good morning, beautiful."
Those three words drew Wes' gaze up in a snap. He locked onto Travis' face, waiting for the joke to follow. When none surfaced, he was dumbfounded. "Good morning, Travis."
His partner laughed. "Didn't mean to catch you off guard," he soothed. "Just can't help myself from remembering how you looked just two hours ago. Mussed hair, sleepy eyes... kinda like Mary Poppins – practically perfect in every way."
Wes didn't know how to respond to that so he ignored it. "Did you get breakfast," he asked instead.
"You mean after you ate the entire dozen donuts I brought? Naw, didn't have time." Travis tapped his fingers on the desk, waiting.
His cheeks grew rosy. "I didn't eat them all."
"Oh?" Travis drew out the word, leaning across his desk towards Wes. "And how many were in the box by the time you left?"
"Four," he whispered.
"How many," Travis goaded.
"Four, okay? You happy now? I ate seven friggen donuts this morning because of you. Because you left me with my stomach in a knot. When I'm nervous or worried or off kilter, I eat." He jammed his arms across his chest, sitting heavily back into his chair. Wes refused to meet Travis' gaze, unsure of how he'd react when he saw the mirth on his partner's face.
"Baby," Travis said, quietly, "look at me." Wes raised his head slowly, reluctant to do anything Travis asked him after that. "First of all, I'm yanking your chain about the donuts, just like I always do. It don't mean nothing. Second, I get the off kilter bit, things have been a bit uh, abnormal, between us. But nervous and worried? There's no need for either of those."
He turned away from Travis' intense gaze, suddenly overwhelmed with something he couldn't fathom. His shoulders slumped slightly, the tension easing out of them finally. "You know why I'm nervous and worried."
Travis shrugged. "Yeah, maybe, but no one will ever hear any of that out of me. Hell, if you want it honest, I'm even enabling you, aren't I? So why would I tell? Wouldn't that out both of us?"
"Because you have a big mouth and you never think about those things until it's too late?"
"Hah. Point to blondie on that one. Yeah, I admit it, I have a big mouth, but not on this. I might let something embarrassing slip here and there, but never anything important. And that you can take to the bank."
Wes nodded, knowing he was right on that. Travis had kept his and Alex's divorce to himself even though he hadn't been asked to. "Okay, okay, you've made your point."
"Have I? Good, because you just offered me breakfast a minute ago, didn't you?" Travis stood and rubbed his hands together. "I hear there's this great diner a few blocks over with the world's best pancakes. And man, am I hungry. Musta worked up an appetite sometime during the night." He tossed a lewd wink in his partner's direction.
The blonde groaned, pushing himself to his feet. "See, I was going to buy you breakfast up until you started shaming me for eating so many donuts. Now you have to buy your own breakfast. I will not be coerced."
"Aw man, that's not right," Travis complained, following Wes out of the station and into the parking lot.
Wes stopped several feet from his sleek and shiny car. "Oh really? Huh, interesting sense of fair you have. I'll tell you what. I'll buy you breakfast and you can… owe me."
A fire lit Travis' eyes. "Now that's the kind of compromise a guy can get behind."
"Just get in the car, we have a long day ahead of us, you idiot."
Travis climbed into the car and waited. Wes slammed his door behind him and started the engine. "You know, just for the record, you can be coerced under the right circumstances, Mitchell."
Wes tried desperately not to grin at that insinuation. "Maybe," was all he would say.
Although there were more things than Wes could count that were still very much up in the air, he was now relatively certain things between him and Travis wouldn't ever change. Not much anyway. He could live with that.