6

-Malcolm-

"WELL, Idon't think they're ever going to let us back in there again," North says as we pull up at the drive-through. Yeah, we're getting burgers. North and his trashy food habits are eating away at my self-control. But damn this greasy shit tastes good every once in a while.

"What a shame," I say.

I pull forward and collect our four burgers and fries from the lady at the window. Plus a strawberry shake for North, extra cream, extra syrup. Three of the burgers are for me. I have a large appetite.

North pulls a face. "That was my favorite costume shop. They had the full Avengers range, and all of the teenage mutant ninja turtles in adult sizes."

I try not to imagine North in a turtle costume and fail miserably.

He shoves a handful of french fries into his mouth. "Still, it was nice of them to let us buy the costumes before they kicked us out."

From what I remember it wasn't so much "let" and more "marched us to the checkout." The old woman would have been pointing a shotgun at us if she had one.

"I think they probably would have had to burn them if we didn't take them," I say.

North snorts. Now that the horror of being caught getting sucked off in a family costume store while dressed as a cowboy has faded, I can see why it would be funny.

But wow, that got hot and heavy fast. One minute I was feeling ridiculous in an outfit clearly three sizes too small for me, and the next, North was looking at me with that soft hot look he gets where his eyes go all gooey. Like I'm the best thing to ever crawl out of god's glorious ass. He's been doing it more and more recently and it makes me feel things.

And to be honest, it's confusing as hell. I have no idea why he seems to like me so much. It feels like a fever dream that might vanish if I try to concentrate on it too much. I'm just waiting for it to end, and I'm utterly terrified of waking up. I'm in too deep now, far deeper than I ever wanted to be. He's worked his way inside me, kicking out the self-protective structures I've put in place as he goes, so that now it's only him holding me up. If it all goes wrong now what's left of my heart is going to cave in, collapse, crumble, until all I am is a ruin of a person; dust, and rubble.

I don't know how I got into this mess, but I'm holding on with two hands and praying like fuck I don't screw it up.

We head back to my place for our usual study session, and the rest of the day goes past far too quickly. Before I know it it's time to prepare for my public torture.

North scampers off to get ready in private, saying he wants a big reveal. What is he? A pregnant housewife? I go for my slim-fit black pants, a snug black T-shirt, and a pair of black boots that are close enough to cowboy boots to work without making me feel like a dickhole. It doesn't take long to actually put on the hat and vest, but it takes a considerable amount of time to quell the urge to fling them out of the bedroom window. Into the path of a passing truck. At least the hat is black.

Afterward, I linger in the kitchen, waiting for North. He's been upstairs doing god knows what for an hour already. How long can it possibly take him to shower and dress?

I check the time. We're supposed to be meeting the others at the bar at half past eight. At this rate, we're going to be late, and while I hate socializing, I loathe being late even more. My skin crawls as the hand ticks down toward quarter past. We still need to drive, find parking, and get to the bar.

I huff and March to the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed. The vest pulls tightly across my shoulders, and I huff again.

"North," I yell up the stairs. "Hurry the fuck up."

"I'm almost done," comes his distant reply.

I glower. "Don't make me come up there and get you."

Actually, There's a thought. I let myself play that out in my head. After the half blow job earlier, and being on edge with all this "going out and seeing real people" shit, I haven't had a chance to relieve my ever-increasing sexual tension. Normally I'd have stripped North off the moment we got back, strapped him down, and released some hot tension all over him. But I haven't had a chance today and the old familiar buzz is starting to kick up at the back of my head. Plus, I said he could drink tonight, so I'm not going to be able to fuck him afterward either. I don't do drunk sex, even if it's not the hardcore stuff. There's too much fog around consent and too much that can go wrong. I'll have to keep it bottled up until tomorrow.

The hand hits twenty past and I'm about to charge up there and drag him down when he appears at the top of the stairs.

"Howdy, partner," North drawls.

I stare as he descends like a débutante. He didn't get a chance to try on his full costume before things got out of hand at the shop. He looks fucking ridiculous. Cowhide chaps over blue jeans, checked shirt rolled to the elbows, vest, red bandanna around his neck, gun belt with two bright blue toy guns hung low on his hips. And of course, the white cowboy hat with a golden sheriff star, perched on the back of his head at a jaunty angle.

He looks like he got in a fight with a kid's dress-up rack and lost. And the worst bit is, he looks fucking sexy as hell. Goddammit.

I will never admit out loud how hot he looks. Never. I'm going to take it to my grave.

He jumps off the bottom step, quick draws his toy guns, and mimes shooting at me with a pew pew noise.

"What do you think?"

"You look like you're about to go trick or treating with your mom," I say.

He reholsters his guns, giving it all the sass of a Western B movie.

"Nah, that's at the weekend. Tonight, we party."

I can't help but snort, and he looks me up and down, grin widening.

"Damn, you look hot. Hey, where's your gun belt?"

"In the same place as my dignity."

"All right, but I'm not going to jump in and save you if you get into a gun-slinger duel situation." The twinkle in his eye is infectious.

We have to go right now or we really are going to be late, but he's so distracting. My horny hindbrain is telling me to finish what we started earlier, but I manage to suppress it. That is until he moves close to me and pauses with his lips an inch from mine. Every time he does this my heart hammers, and every time I think I'm going to chicken out and run away. And every time I'm pulled to him like he's my center of gravity. Our lips meet, and he's sweet and soft, and everything I'm not.

He pulls away enough to speak against my lips.

"Thanks for doing this. It really means a lot to me."

I rumble in my throat. "Don't worry, you're going to pay me back later."

He laughs against my mouth, and our hats knock together and sit askew. His messy blond hair flops out rakishly under it. He smells like my shower gel and something sweet. He always smells sweet, even when he's been sweating like a pig in his football gear, there's always a candy tang. Probably all that sugar he eats. But it makes me want to lick him.

Dammit, why did he have to kiss me? I was doing so well, but now I'm going to have to fuck him. There's no getting around it. He goes to pull away but I can't stop myself from pursuing him.

I slide my lips from his, feeling the fine hairs of his stubble under my tongue.

"Mal we have to—" he breaks off with a startled noise that melts into something deeper as I press my stiffening dick against him, feeling his own bulge growing in response. The pulse at his throat races against my lips as he gulps.

The stupid bandanna gets in the way of my progress, obstructing me from getting at the sweet flesh at the base of his neck. And I can think of a much better use for it. I tug it off, then slide down his arms, gather both his hands behind him, and tie them together at the small of his back, tugging the bandanna tight. Much better.

He makes a helpless noise as I spin him and press him up against the cream wall at the bottom of the stairs, one cheek to the brickwork. The way he flattens himself against it without question, surrendering to my control instinctively, is delicious.

I dig my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and tug them down as far as they'll go, just enough to expose his ass. The curve of his cheeks framed by the chaps awakens something in me. I've never been into roleplay but maybe it's time to try, because his ass looks remarkably fuckable right now.

"Your tight ass is just waiting for me to ruin it," I snarl.

I fit my hand around his throat, squeezing just enough to feel his racing pulse stammer against my fingers and cut off his air for a second. When I do, his mouth falls open and he shudders. I stick my fingers between his lips.

"Suck," I command him, and he does, taking them as far into his greedy mouth as he can and lapping at them. "That's right, Nolan. Get them good and wet. These are going inside you."

He moans, the noise half strangled under my hand. I pull them out with a wet pop, then work him open with them. His hands clench at the small of his back as I work my fingers inside, feeling the drag of his rim against my not-quite-wet enough fingers. I tut.

"Looks like you didn't get them wet enough."

He hisses as I fit two digits in and spread them, stretching his hole out a bit at a time. I lean into him, pressing the swell of my dick into his bound hands.

"Want me to fuck you hard in your stupid cowboy costume?" I rasp against his neck.

"Yes. Please," he moans.

I spit at the crack of his ass and jerk my fingers in and out, scissoring in harsh movements until he's open enough. It's rough and frenzied, and he fucking loves it judging by the needy noises he's making and the way his muscles are jumping. Such a good little slut for me.

I make him free my dick with his tied hands, I'm too busy finger fucking and choking him out. He fumbles with my fly and pants, managing to get them open and down just enough, and then my cock is out and I slide it into his hands and up the small of his back, smearing precum on the back of his vest.

Keeping one hand tight on his throat, I reach around and slip my other hand between the wall and his body. His dick is still half-trapped in his jeans, flat against the wall. I whip it out and jerk it, feeling the sensitive skin drag against my palm. He's leaking precum and it's not enough to make it smooth, but he doesn't seem to care, his hips jerk with minute thrusts into my hand. It's all he can manage with me pinning him.

He whines when I let go of his cock long enough to spit into my hand. Mental note to myself: start carrying a packet of lube with me wherever I go. Saliva will have to do for now, though, because now that I've started there's no way I'm going to be able to break off to go on a lube hunt. I work the spit over the length of my cock and press it between the peachy curves of his asscheeks, wedged between the chaps.

"You ready?" I ask.

He nods, his eyes fluttering closed in anticipation.

"Please," he rasps.

"Let me know if it's too much, Okay?" I murmur.

He nods again and I push forward. He jerks and gasps as I enter.

I try to hold back as long as I can for his sake, but he's so tight and warm. When his grunts turn into moans of pleasure again, and his body melts against me, I pick up the pace until I'm ramming in hard and fast.

He leans his head back against my shoulder and I take his throat again, squeezing in time and feeling the vibration of his noises against my palm.

He half turns his head to the side, his lips open, and I capture his mouth in a sloppy kiss while I jerk his cock with my other hand and fuck him into the wall. More cum spills out of him, coating my pumping hand, making it glide over his cock. He's bucking his hips, pressing back against me with each thrust and pushing into my fist.

I bite down on his lip, and he groans into my mouth. With how tightly I'm wound, I'm not going to last long, but I'm determined to make him come before me.

"Oh, fuck, Mal. Oh, fuck. Fuck." His voice is breathy and strained. "Fuck, I'm gonna-Mal—"

He breaks off in a shuddering whine, his legs shake, and warmth spills over my hand as he comes.

I'm only a hair's breadth behind, hanging on by a thread. I thrust into him hard and fast. Once. Twice. He cries out. My fingers close on his neck. his cum drips down my hand. The cowboy vest brushes against the base of my cock. I slam into him one last time, and my climax hits.

I collapse against him and mouth at his neck as my hips jerk in little aborted thrusts and I fill him with my cum. His lips find mine and we kiss, long and sloppy, breathing hard against each other's mouths. We stay like that for some time, slumped against the wall until I can think again.

"So you do like my costume," North pants.

"No," I snarl. "I like you." Then I groan. "Fuck, we're going to be so late."