* * *
My plan was for us to hit several of my favorite vintage stores—Red Light, Avalon, and Hollywood Vintage, plus others if we had time. We started at Red Light because it was closest to Todd’s house, where, no surprise, Todd found a rack with a lot of Pendleton plaid shirts. He held up two, one a red-and-black and one a blue-and-white with a thinner stripe of purple.
“That one.” I pointed to the blue. “Unless the purple puts you off.”
“It’s a color, not a political preference. Or a vegetable.” Todd laughed and tucked the blue shirt under his arm. “Now, I’ve been thinkin’ that I need a bag of some kind. Like a backpack but cooler. What do you suggest?”
I studied him as carefully as I would one of my clients. I loved helping people find their personal style. “I’ve got it,” I said and led him to the bags, where I sifted and sorted until I found a battered leather messenger bag. “Something like this.”
Todd nodded. “Like an explorer. I dig it. It’ll carry my shoes for dance class nicely.”
“Now let’s build on the look you wore to class Thursday—more throwback casual maybe?”
“Been so long since I spent like this. Maybe ever.” Todd looked a bit overwhelmed as I showed him different options.
“Should we stop?” I hadn’t really thought about budget much, and I should have.
“Nah. I got cash.” Todd shrugged. “I save most of my money from the bakery other than what goes for my doctors and meds and then to Gran for the food. Gran calls me a hoarder. But when you ain’t had it . . .”
“I get it. Don’t let me pressure you into spending too much.”
“You won’t. I just meant . . .” He dropped his voice as he fingered a tie. “It’s kinda like with kissing. You show me what I’ve been missing. Make me wanna live that little bit more.”
My sinuses burned, and it wasn’t because of the musty clothes. “You’re getting more of that later,” I warned.
“Bring it on.”
“Oh my gosh, I love your bracelet. Did you buy that here?” A young woman with pastel hair reminiscent of cotton candy grabbed my arm.
“Nope. Nordies.” I gave her a smile, even if I’d rather focus on Todd.
“Can I snap a picture of you for my People of Portlandia Insta-gram account? I just love your whole outfit.”
“Sure.” I grabbed a very red-looking Todd and wrapped my arms around him before she snapped the picture. I’d go hunt down her In-stagram later. It would be nice to have a souvenir of the day.
“That happen to you a lot? Total strangers wanting pictures?” Todd asked in a low voice once she’d moved on.
“Some. It’s Portland.” I shrugged. “Most people are cool. Some tourists seem to think I’m part of the local experience, but I’ll take curiosity and compliments over rudeness like that couple in our dance class.” I’d been at this enough years to have run the gamut of reactions from people, and it didn’t faze me anymore. Living here, more often than not, was a positive experience, and that was all I really cared about.
Where Red Light had had more everyday stuff for Todd, Hollywood Vintage and Avalon’s vintage suits were perfect for the benefit. I found a few pieces for myself too at our various stops, but my main focus was Todd. We found a gray wool suit jacket with the right vibe at one place, then paired it with suspenders and darker gray pants from another, and a shirt the color of old paper from a third place. I was mindful of his limited budget and really worked to find him bargains that would look amazing but not break the bank.
“You’re good,” Todd said when we were walking from the garage to the elevator to my place. “The way you pull things together. Can’t wait to see how it’s all going to look.”
“Oh, you are totally giving me a fashion show back at my place while I cook.” I’d already volunteered to make us pasta.
“I’m not all that.” Todd blushed and looked at his sneakers.
“Hot bearded tattooed hipster who looks fuckable in vintage? Sweetheart, I’m not sure where you’ve been, but there are whole In-stagram and Tumblr accounts devoted to guys like you.”
“Fuckable?” He gave me a little smile. “That mean I’m gettin’ kissed later?” He pulled something from his pocket. “Brought my own mints and everything.”
“You are so getting kissed.” I chased him into the elevator. I would have happily chased him all the way to the bedroom, but Rococo greeted us with a lot of barking and an I-need-outside dance. Todd laughed though and set down our bags while I grabbed the leash.
“I’ll come too,” he said.
I tried to hurry the dog up as we went on the fastest turn around the block ever.
“In a hurry?” Todd asked as I jingled the leash, giving me a hot look that said he wouldn’t have minded my chasing-in-the-bedroom impulse.
“For you? I’m the Queen of Patience.” I shot him what I hoped was a beatific smile.
“And it’s appreciated.” Todd looked around the street, then leaned in. “Have you thought any . . . that is . . . if we do, there are . . . risks.”
I saved him from his rambling with a quick kiss. Funny how uncomfortable I could be with others in my space and how comfortable I was with Todd. “Yes, I’ve thought about that. A lot. But you’re on the new meds with a low viral count, right?”
He nodded.
“Then I figure condoms for anything involving penetration, but I’m not going to worry too much about lower-risk stuff. Promise I’m not going to freak if I get your spunk on me or something.” I kind of guessed that that had been part of what was holding him back the other night.
Todd blushed so hard his beard almost changed colors, and nodded. I grabbed his hand and squeezed, and we stayed like that with a quiet sort of heat between us as we walked back to the condo. Todd was right—there really was something delicious about anticipation.
Thus, I didn’t jump him the second the door shut and I let Rococo off his leash, instead saying, “Fashion show? Let’s see how everything looks and whether anything’s going to need tailoring.”
“Tailoring?” Todd blinked.
“It’s not a dirty word. It’s how you make clothes look their best.”
“That how come you always look cute as hell? Tailoring?”
Now it was my turn to blush. “If the pants need hemming or something, I’ll do it for you. I do most of my own alterations.”
“No pins,” Todd said.
Ah. He was worried about risks again. Sweet. I nodded. “No, I’ve got chalk. Now get to changing while I grab the chalk and my measuring tape.”
“Right here?” he squeaked as he gestured to the bank of windows.
“We’re on the ninth floor. No one can see, but if you’re really uncomfortable, we can go to the bedroom.” I picked up one of the sacks and headed that way. “I think you just want a tour of my room.”
“Maybe.” Todd snuck up on me to hug me from behind.
I grabbed my sewing supplies from the hall closet and went to perch on the end of my bed.
“Uh.” Todd paused partway through unbuttoning his flannel. “You going to watch?”
“Oops.” I gathered up my stuff. “I can wait in the living room.”
“No, it’s okay . . . just never given someone a show before.” The back of his neck was a dusky pink and his eyes studied the shag rug under my bed.
“Here. I’ll try on my new pants too.” I grabbed a pair of cigarette pants from my bag. “That way you’re not the only one stripping.”
“And now I ain’t gonna be able to concentrate.” Todd’s eyes went to my groin. “But yeah, that works. Just wasn’t so sure about having an audience.”
“It’s okay.” I brushed a kiss across his cheek. Then, leaving my sweater on, I made quick work of my pants.
“You wear boxers?” Todd sounded surprised. He’d gotten as far as getting his shirts off. And man, he was tasty, pale skin dotted with golden freckles and a decent amount of blond fuzz over his pecs. Rosy nipples several shade
s darker than his lips peeked out from the fuzz, making me want to touch and taste.
“Usually.” I shrugged and picked up the pair of pants. “They’re the most comfortable. Why? Were you expecting panties?”
“Wasn’t rightly sure. Seem kinda bulky for your tight pants.” Todd’s hands stilled on his belt buckle. “Whatever’s comfortable, you know?”
“If it turns you on, you’re allowed to make special requests.” I’d had a lover with that fetish, prior to Lewis, and hadn’t minded one bit shopping for a few pretty things to drive him wild.
“Not sure.” A pale flush crept up Todd’s neck and his eyes went wide as he looked me over with barely disguised heat. Yeah, he was into the idea. “I might have to do more shopping.” I gave him a wink as I pulled the pants on. “Fuck. Too tight. I knew I should have tried these on at the place.”
“Can you take them back?”
“Yeah.” I nodded even though I was as likely to end up donating them as I was to return them. I slid them back down and shifted my attention back onto Todd, who had finally removed his pants, revealing utilitarian black boxer briefs. Impressive bulge, but I didn’t let my eyes linger there because I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.
He pulled on the dress pants, the shirt, and the jacket. It didn’t matter that we had nowhere to be—there was something magical about watching another person dress up. That was part of what I loved about my job, although watching my clients transform never turned me on like watching Todd get all dapper did. Even with a few alterations needed, he totally looked like hipster porn.
“Pants are a bit loose.” He tugged at the waistband.
“They’re supposed to be with suspenders, but let me see.” I grabbed my chalk and measuring tape and went into tailor mode, checking the length of his pant hems and the fit of the waistband and jacket.
“Kendall?”
“Yeah?” I tugged on his sleeve.
“This is torture.” His eyes had drifted shut, and a quick glance downward revealed that his pants were decidedly more snug than they’d been three minutes ago. Huh. I guessed my hands had been all over him. Smiling, I took the last measurement I needed for the jacket sleeves, then very deliberately ran my fingers against the skin of his wrist.
“Problem?” I said all casual.
“You’re evil,” he ground out.
“Yup.” I pushed the jacket off his shoulders. “We don’t want this to crumple.”
“’Course not.” His voice was breathy. “Better take the shirt off too before I sweat in it.”
“Let me.” I could have made short work of the buttons, but instead I took them one at a time, caressing and teasing each new inch of exposed skin until the shirt hung open and Todd was breathing hard.
I skimmed the shirt and suspenders off his shoulders and took my time to neatly fold the shirt and the jacket on the side chair in my room, as much to make him wait as anything else. When I returned to his side, my fingers swept all around his waistband, giving him ample time to say no before I went to his fly. I loved how he was totally surrendering to my ministrations, but I also didn’t want to push him too far too fast.
I pushed the pants down slowly, reaching around to caress the curve of his ass. He stepped free of the pants, and we both stood there in our boxers, bodies almost but not quite touching. Grabbing the hem of my sweater, he whispered, “You too?”
I nodded and pulled the sweater off and set my bracelet aside on the dresser. Grabbing his hand, I led him to the bed. “I just want to feel your skin. We don’t have to do anything you’re not up for, but I’d love to lie here and kiss you for a while.”
He nodded, teeth digging into his lower lip, then stretched out next to me on top of my comforter. It felt . . . sacred almost, that moment when our bare skin touched for the first time, the swift intake of his breath as his fuzzy chest met my smoother one. Finally, my lips met his, and it felt like a homecoming, like I belonged right here in this moment with this man.
We were both hard, but I stayed true to my word and didn’t let my hands venture below his waistline, instead sweeping my touch up and down the muscles of his back while we kissed and kissed. He kissed me hungrier than before, making these needy little growls that made my cock throb. Gradually, we went from lying on our sides facing each other to me half on him, still kissing and touching, his hands roaming over my back and sides.
He discovered how sensitive I was along my ribs, and I discovered that the little patch of bare skin by his ear made him shiver. When my lips returned to his, he was more aggressive, sucking hard on my tongue. His hands found my ass, maneuvering me until I was between his legs, our dicks grinding through our boxers.
“Fuck, you feel good,” I moaned.
“Yeah.” Todd’s voice was strained, his neck muscles tight as he pulled me even harder against him. “Need . . . fuck . . . I need skin. Want to feel you.”
“Oh yeah.” Reaching down, I shoved my boxers off, and rolled so he could do the same. I kind of expected him to push me the rest of the way down and climb on top, so I was a bit startled when he tugged me back over him.
“Ahhh,” he groaned when I settled myself back between his legs, our dicks lining up.
“Fuck.” I rocked my hips instinctively, and he brought his knees up around my hips.
“Kiss me,” he demanded.
I claimed his mouth a bit roughly, desire making me clumsy. But it seemed like my lack of finesse only inflamed him, made him buck beneath me. His dick rutted against my stomach.
“Kendall,” he panted. “God, Kendall, I’m close.”
“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart. Go for it.” My lips found the spot behind his ear that made him moan.
“Never came like this before, but god, kissing you is so good.”
“Come on.” I rocked my hips harder against him, getting a hand on his hip to pull him closer against me. “That’s right. You come for me.”
“Kendall. Kendall. Kendall,” he chanted as his whole body shook. “Kiss me. God, please kiss me.”
My lips found his again, tongue fucking his mouth, which seemed to drive more moans from him.
“Ung.” Panting, he wrenched his mouth away right as a splash of warmth hit my stomach. I had been so focused on Todd that I hadn’t realized how close I was myself until I watched him come. Power, the likes of which I’d only felt a few times, surged through me. I was doing this—me taking charge caused this pleasure in him, and he was all mine, at least for this moment. I wanted to memorize how he said my name, how his eyes rolled back when he came, how his hands dug into my back and ass.
My balls lifted, and I fucked hard into the groove between his thigh and hip for a few thrusts, then I too was catapulted into a panting, moaning orgasm.
“Fuck.” I rolled to my back. “You okay? Didn’t mean for things to get there so fast.”
“Oh, I was right there with you.” He laughed self-consciously. “I don’t want to be a buzz kill, but we should probably shower, right?”
“Told you I wasn’t going to freak if your spunk touched me.” I leaned over and kissed his mouth softly. “Give me a second, and then yeah, we can shower before I cook for you.”
“You already got laid and you’re still cooking for me?” Todd joked, but his eyes were wary.
Oh, baby, you’re worth so much more than people told you you were. My heart broke a bit for him, and I stroked his jaw, my throat too tight to do more than nod. I didn’t want to feel this tender for him, not this fast, not when he was still supposed to be temporary, but hell if I could stop the throb of my heart.
CHAPTER 8
Todd
Kendall had a real nice shower—one of those deals with a separate tub with little lights above it and then a large stall with a big glass door. Plenty of room for two. If I wasn’t still so boneless from coming, we could have had some real fun in there. As it was, we stood there and kissed after we washed, until the water ran cold and my cock started getting interested in things a
gain.
It could wait though, as I was still sorting out how it felt, having come with Kendall, having opened myself up like that. I never did that before—the rubbing and the kissing—and I surprised myself how much I wanted that exact thing again. Kendall, he gave me a taste for all sorts of things I never knew I liked.
Like pesto. After we showered, Kendall pulled on a pair of these soft pants and nothing else, so I followed his lead and just put on my jeans. It was right cozy, sitting at his breakfast bar while he chopped and worked on the dinner.
“Give me something to do,” I said, hating him doing all the work.
“Can you dice an onion?” He passed me a cutting board, knife, and large red onion.
“Yup. What’s that?” I gestured at the bright green puree whizzing around in his high-tech food processor.
“You’ve never had pesto? It’s delicious with roasted tomatoes and onions in this sauce over fusilli.”
I figured fusilli was his fancy noodles. Roasted tomatoes, those were fancy too. “Nope. But I’ll try it.”
“You’ll like it, promise. And it’s not too spicy.”
“Thanks. Sorry for being such a food wimp. It’s just that growing up we always had real simple foods. Never got a taste for the fancy stuff.”
“Your mom didn’t cook?”
“Nah.” I shook my head. I tried to slice the onion into neat little cubes, the way Kendall would. “She works as a waitress. Always said the last thing she wanted to do was be in the kitchen at home.”
“How did you afford dancing?” Kendall clapped his hand over his mouth as soon as the question finished. “Sorry. Ignore that. I need a filter.”
“Nah. It’s okay.” Others had wondered that too, and even Gran and Gramps had gone on about how the money should have gone to other things. “My dad, see, he’s a car salesman. Decent money, so Mama’s money, that paid for the dancing classes and the competitions and stuff, until they split and then there wasn’t money for lessons.”
“They split when you were a teenager?” Kendall’s eyes narrowed. I had a feeling he was thinking about how I’d transformed in the last few pictures in the photo album at Gran’s. Damn but I hated those pictures. I looked . . . hollow, and knowing Kendall had seen me that way made my stomach all queasy despite the wonderful food smells.
Danced Close Page 7
