Owen turns the key in the lock and pushes the door to their shared apartment open with his shoulder, groping the inside wall until he finds a light switch.
He studies his reflection in the mirror in the front entryway and shrugs off his jacket. There's a trail of dried blood from his temple to the top of his cheekbone, but it's nothing serious. It can wait until after he finds Axel.
He tugs at the knot in his scarf and makes his way through the dark apartment to where the kitchen lights are throwing a fluorescent triangle on the living room floor.
When he slides the kitchen door open, his heart stutters.
The dress is crimson and the sleeves are puffy. The skirt is bunched up revealing the lacy bands of a pair of black thigh-highs.
Axel is sitting on the counter, legs crossed, eating a brownie. In a dress. He lifts a glass of milk to his lips and sips — daintily, the little brat — and when he sets it next to his knee Owen can clearly make out the bright red lipstick stain on the rim.
Owen's pretty sure his heart has stopped beating at this point. Axel grins at him and when he hops off the counter, the skirt fucking flounces.
Shit.
Owen moves forward and leans against the bar counter, watching Axel move around the room.
He's wearing heels and when he leans into the fridge and pulls out the milk, his legs look like they go on for miles. Owen sighs.
This kid.
Axel hands Owen his own glass of milk and poises on a stool, tossing his hair over his shoulder like a fucking pro. Owen chugs half of his glass to calm himself down and hops onto the stool next to his.
Fake eyelashes flutter (and shit his eyes are blue) and Axel leans toward him, holding a chunk of brownie to his lips. Owen laughs and takes it and bites the tips of Axel's — fucking polished, god damn — fingers.
Are you trying to drive me insane? he wants to ask. Instead he hooks an ankle around the leg of Axel's stool and tugs him closer without warning, sliding a hand up his skirt. The tulle scratches against his knuckles and Axel's breath hitches.
His pupils are blown and when Owen tugs at the elastic band of his thigh highs he actually hisses. And yeah, those are definitely panties he's wearing. They're silky. He wonders what color they are.
Owen watches Axels adams apple bob and traces the shape of Axel's cock through his panties. Axel gasps and falls into him. Grips his shoulders and his eyes are squeezed shut.
Owen pushes his skirt up and pulls his (black, they're black with a little red bow — fuckin' surreal) panties down and grips him. He can feel himself talking, mouth pushed against Axel's right ear, and he's reasonably sure that whatever is coming out of his mouth is absolutely filthy.
Axel rubs his mouth against Owen's neck and sighs exactly the way he does when Owen calls him 'baby'.
Axel's shaking and Owen is almost positive that he's crying, so he noses at Axels cheek and calls him a slut, growls it out, twisting his wrist just that way.
Axel bites his neck and comes hard trembling against Owen's chest, his hands fisted in Owens undershirt.
He pants against Owens neck for a good minute and then pushes Owen back and pulls him down into a hard kiss. He shoves Owen out of it and gives him a smile that is full of teeth and wicked.
Then he slides off of his bar stool and onto his knees, undoing Owens belt on the way.
Owen is dead. He's died and he's gone to heaven.
He's thinking out loud and Axel is laughing at him.
His eyes are blue and they fucking twinkle when Axel drags his redred lips down the length of his cock and then kisses the head. Owen growls and shoves a hand in his hair and Axel smirks up at him.
Fuck. He looks good on his knees.
He's thinking out loud again and Axel swallows him down in response.
He's wearing lipstick. He's beautiful. God.
He's beautiful and he's wearing red lipstick and fake eyelashes and a dress and heels and little black panties and a dress and he looks so fucking focused on his knees with Owens cock in his mouth and— Shit.
He looks upupup at Owen through his eyelashes and he smirks like the cat that got the fucking canary and Owen is gone.
Over the edge, over the hill, over the rainbow.
Fuck.
When he can finally focus his eyes again Axel is still on his knees, licking his lips and staring up at him with his blue eyes and Owens hand is still tangled in his hair, so he has to drop down and kiss him like there's no tomorrow.
Axel sighs against his lips and when he pulls away he can see that his lipstick is smeared and he's still in a fucking dress and he's calm.
And they're happy.
