Martín hummed, sounding pleased as he rested his chin on Mirko's shoulder, their eyes meeting in the mirror.
"Now, this is really something," Martín purred, and he adjusted the lay of Mirko's suit from behind, running his hands down the sleeves and playing with the buttons. He had chosen this outfit- a bespoke suit of silky, handspun material, inky black and rich, royal blue. The buttons were mother of pearl, too numerous and delicate for Mirko to handle himself with his rough, calloused fingers- but Martín hadn't minded doing it for him. He seemed to have taken a certain pleasure in it.
It was really for Martín's pleasure that Mirko was wearing this. He wouldn't think to pick such an ostentatious design himself, and even though the fit was perfect he felt ungainly in such delicate clothes, restrained. But he didn't mind, not for one night. Especially given the way that Martín looked at him.
"Now for the final touch," Martín said, and he picked a pair of ties, holding them up to Mirko's throat in turn, studying the joining of the colours and the lay of the fabrics. "What do you think?"
Mirko didn't know if there was a right answer- both ties were blue and patternless, only one was slightly darker than the other. The difference didn't seem at all important to him- but of course, between the two of them, Martín was always the one who looked like a flawlessly styled gentleman, and that probably involved a bit of fussing.
"The first," Mirko said, guessing, and Martín hummed.
"Yes, I think so too."
Mirko would have tied the tie- this of course, he knew how to do, at least in one style- but unquestioningly Martín began to do it for him, flipping up his collar and winding the fabric around his neck. Mirko saw, then, that his eyes were practically on fire. His fingers, where they stroked the cloth around Mirko's neck, shook slightly with desire.
"When the party is over," Mirko said, smiling to himself, "I will choose what you will wear."
Martín raised one eyebrow. He finished with the tie, and turned Mirko's collar back down, but still his fingers lingered there, his body warm and very close.
"And what are you picturing?"
"Nothing."
Martín laughed.
