He laughs for a few seconds before he swings the door back open. Bright's still standing there, finger to the brim of his hat as if he's about to tip it, and Ephram imagines he must have cut off a "howdy, partner" with his door slam. Bright's smile is gone now, though, replaced by a furrowed brow.
"What'd you do that for?" Bright asks.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Ephram says. "Where are my manners? I should have invited you in and then laughed at you."
Bright makes a face and elbows past Ephram. His boots thud across the hardwood floor to the kitchen, but Ephram's glad to see that Bright isn't wearing spurs. Or chaps, for that matter. That would be a little too Village People for Ephram to stand.
Bright is rummaging through the refrigerator, which gives Ephram a great view of his ass. So Wranglers really are good for something, at least.
"Um, Bright? What are you doing?" he asks once Bright turns around and his ass isn't distracting Ephram.
"I'm making a sandwich. Duh," Bright says, slathering Miracle Whip onto his bread.
"That much is obvious." Ephram rolls his eyes. "I'm talking about your rather drastic change in style. In case you've forgotten, Halloween was yesterday, and you didn't even dress up for that."
Bright...blushes, Ephram thinks. But he looks down quickly so that the hat's brim obscures his face. "That's because everyone else has it wrong," he says. Takes a bite of his sandwich.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if October 31 is All Hallows Eve, then that means that today, November 1, is All Hallows Day, right?"
"All Saints Day, actually, but do go on."
"So that means that you should dress up for today, not yesterday. Because dressing up on the day before is kind of like opening all your presents on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas," Bright concludes, looking triumphant.
"Your logic is astounding."
"C'mon Ephram, don't make fun of me. I'm serious."
"And you look it, too. I think it's the cowboy hat that does it."
"Oh, shut up." Bright shoves back from the table and heads to the living room, sprawling onto the couch. "Don't you think it makes baby Jesus cry when people celebrate his birth on the wrong day?"
"Well, I'm Jewish, so this whole parallel isn't really working for me. But even if it was, people just picked some totally arbitrary day for Christmas, anyway. It's not actually a real birthday."
Bright snorts. "You're such a spoilsport. And here I thought you'd like my costume."
"Did I say anything about disliking your costume?" Ephram feigns indignation. "Besides, I'm the last person who would object to you in Wranglers; they make your ass look great. Though you do know that they can make you sterile, don't you?"
"Considering the fact that this is the only time in my life I've worn them, I don't think I have much to worry about. Also? I'm pretty sure you can't get pregnant, anyway."
Ephram stares down at Bright, a grin tugging the corners of his mouth. Bright pulls him down so that he's straddling Bright's hips, and then he kisses him hard.
"Ride 'em, cowboy," Ephram murmurs into Bright's mouth.
Bright moans when Ephram grinds down. "Nah, I think that'd be more like this," he says breathlessly, tumbling them over onto the floor until their positions are reversed. "Yeah, this is more like it," Bright says, pushing his hips down into Ephram's. With one hand under Ephram's chin, he cants Ephram's head back and runs his tongue from the hollow of collarbone up to his pulse point, where he sucks until Ephram's gasping and pushing back up against him.
"Up." Ephram pushes Bright back and grabs both sides of his shirt, pulling violently until the snaps pop open, parting in a neat line to reveal Bright's chest. Bright shrugs the shirt off while Ephram tears off his own shirt.
Then Ephram runs his hands down Bright's sides until he reaches the waistband, where he rips the belt out (God, is that ever a huge belt buckle) and grabs onto the belt loops, tugging. He directs Bright's movements, thrusting up so that that their cocks are aligned, riding hard together through denim. Ephram leans up to suck one of Bright's nipples, and Bright groans, head thrown back and...he's still wearing the cowboy hat. It shouldn't be hot, but it really sort of is.
Ephram grips the back of Bright's neck, fingers tangled in his curls, and he pulls Bright down for a kiss, tongue fucking his mouth, slick and purposeful. Bright shudders and thrusts down hard.
"Wait a...wait a minute," Ephram says, reaching for the button of Bright's jeans. Bright beats him to it, though, popping it open as he sits back on his heels.
Ephram pushes himself up onto his elbows and licks his lips. He cups Bright through his jeans, and Bright's eyes fall closed, eyelashes dark smudges against the delicate skin under his eyes.
"Oh," he breathes. "Just a sec." And he starts to stand up before Ephram grabs his wrist.
"What are you doing?"
"I have to, um, take the boots off before I can...Oh, God. Before I can take off my pants," Bright's biting his lower lip while Ephram's hand rubs at his cock, shaping to it through the denim.
Ephram pouts. "But I like the boots. I want you to keep them on." But he takes his hand away and lets Bright stand.
"Maybe next time. But right now I don't want to take them off, take off my pants, and put the boots back on. Especially not when all I really want is to get you naked and fuck you."
And who is Ephram to argue with that? Especially since now the boots are gone, Bright's fly is open...and he's not wearing underwear. Ephram thinks distractedly that that can't be comfortable, but when Bright pushes the Wrangler's down and off, it doesn't seem to matter. Neither do the boots, come to that.
"Come here," Ephram says, and Bright reaches up for the hat. "Uh-uh." Ephram shakes his head. "Leave it on, cowboy."
Bright does.
END.