A Scrap of Silk

by Jane Davitt




"I want you to dress up for me," Blair said, his voice flat which, in Jim's experience, meant that Blair was nervous as hell.

"What, some kind of role playing deal?" Jim grimaced, already regretting his rash promise to go along with whatever Blair chose to do. When he'd told Blair to name a fantasy, he'd expected Blair to back down or come up with something they'd both enjoy. Jim had a shamefaced, never admitted to kink for dirty talk, the filthier the better, but he couldn't bring himself to ask Blair to say the words he sometimes muttered under his breath jerking off. The idea of Blair telling him that he was a cock-hungry slut only worked if Blair didn't immediately snicker helplessly afterward and Jim liked the fantasy too much to have it ruined.

If Blair went first, though…

"So what do you see me in?" he asked when Blair bit his lip without replying. "Pirate? Cop uniform? Leather?" Despite his initial misgivings, he was beginning to be interested in the idea -- or his cock was. Not something he'd want to do often, but, yeah, it'd always been a turn on for him when a woman had dressed in something that was clearly designed to be ripped off by teeth, not worn to sleep in.

"It's January," Blair said, still looking tense as hell, even now when Jim was smiling encouragingly at him. "Halloween was October, Jim. Not a costume, not really. Just -- oh, forget it. You won't do it and you'll probably hate me for asking -- when you've finished laughing. Or punching me. Or --"

Jim put his hand over Blair's mouth. "Will you shut up, Blair? Please?" When the lips against his palm stopped moving, he sighed and let his hand drop away. "I might laugh, but I'll try not to, and the rest of it….Jesus, Blair, what kind of an asshole do you think I am? This was my idea, remember?" He kissed Blair, tasting the arousal underneath the nervousness, honey coated with lemon, as if the emotions had flavor. He didn't share that thought with Blair; it wasn't something that Blair could run tests on, after all, and it might be just his imagination.

"Just tell me," he coaxed. "Because if you don't, I'll start wondering what's so kinky you can't tell me and I worked Vice, so I've got some idea of how rough it can get."

Blair stepped back and ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up, wild with static. It clung to his fingers and Jim watched each strand wrap around and hold on tightly, just the way he held Blair when they'd made love, fucking themselves to a state of weak-kneed exhaustion, sweaty, sated, smiling.

With a jerky nod, Blair finally surrendered. "Okay. Okay, I will." He bit his lip again, worrying at it. "Maybe if I show you... It's stupid, really," he said, throwing the words back over his shoulder as he walked into his room, "not something I've ever been into, never even thought about it, but when I saw it, I just --"

He emerged from his room with a small booklet in his hand, a catalog, by the look of it. "I bought a porn magazine," he said. That admission didn't seem to bother him, though after six months of sleeping with Blair, Jim had never shared any of his, admittedly small, stack of porn with Blair.

Jim felt a flush of jealousy and insecurity wash over him. Young bodies, hard, fit, dicks impossibly big, narrowed eyes and arrogant smiles… In a word, competition. His reaction must have shown on his face, because Blair chuckled, relaxing visibly. "Not a patch on you, any of them," he said, "though I saw a couple of guys in there that I'd bet would get you going."

"Maybe," Jim said, refusing to commit or implicate himself. "Show me later." He nodded at the catalog. "That was inside?"

Blair tossed it to him, pages fluttering. "I was hard by the time I got to the second page, and I came around page six before I could even get my dick out of my pants. Embarrassing. And after that, all I could think of was you like that and I just --"

"Is that why you've been wearing me out the past week or so?" Jim demanded, still not looking down at the catalog. The smooth, glossy pages were sticking to his fingers; he was sweating, hot, his heart pounding. "I thought it was just me, but you've been getting off on a man in here and using me as a substitute?"

"No!" Blair closed the gap between them and grabbed Jim's free hand, his eyes imploring Jim to listen. "Not the man -- what he was wearing. What I want you to wear. God, Jim, I've been jerking off over you for years and the reality's better than anything I could dream up; do you think now we're together I'm going to start fantasizing about someone else?"

Mollified by Blair's sincerity and guiltily aware of the fact that from time to time he did let his mind wander when he was jerking off, his head filled with men who were more like his Army buddies in shape than Blair, Jim finally looked at the catalog.

It took a moment to process what he found and by the time he had, he was blushing scarlet, his mouth hanging open. "You have got to be fucking kidding me!"

He turned the pages, flipping through the photos, unable to shake the feeling of incredulity. Men, photographed from the neck down. Young, well-hung, muscular and tanned -- and every one of them wearing --

"Women's underwear? You want me to wear women's panties?"

"It's not," Blair said. He was blushing too, but there was a set to his jaw that warned Jim not to push him too far. "It's specially designed for men. Totally different body shape, remember. We've got more to fit in than they do. It's just…well, yeah, okay, it's cross-dressing, but God, Jim, look at them and tell me they don't look hot."

Jim closed his eyes and carried on a brief conversation with himself in the time it took to open them again. Not his kink. Just wasn't. But it was Blair's and he'd promised to try. And, yes, he'd look ridiculous and his dick would be a curled, shrunken scrap, which would be disturbing, and he'd need fucking therapy afterward --

"You're not going to pull out a camera, snap me, and tell me it's an early April Fool's joke, are you?" he demanded.

Blair looked confused and then furious. "Hey! I'm sharing something here, Jim, in case you didn't notice! And don't think I don't know that there's plenty of weird, fucked-up shit you'd like to do, but don't have the guts to tell me about."

"How did you know?" Jim blurted out, falling for the oldest trick in the book and cursing himself the moment the words left his lips.

Blair sniffed. "You're human. Everyone has something." He pointed at the catalog Jim was still holding. "And I just found out that what's in there is one of mine."

One of? Huh. Jim licked dry lips and turned away from Blair, walking over to the couch, where he could look at the book without an audience.

Men in skimpy, silky panties and baby doll nighties. In stockings, corsets, bras. Smooth, muscular legs and trim hips topped by pink satin thongs decorated with demure black bows… It would all have looked sexy on a woman, but on a man… It should have looked silly, but Blair was right; it looked oddly hot. Something about the clinging silk made the muscles under it look harder; the thrusting bulge of a cock became impudently obscene and teasing behind pink satin.  

Jim reached page six, dimly aware of the fact that he was critiquing color choice and style by page four, his initial rejection already softening -- unlike his dick. God, he was getting aroused. Not as much as Blair clearly had, but enough to make him think that he could do this. Maybe.

Page six was a man wearing a simple pair of green satin briefs -- panties -- trimmed with lace. The back of the panties had a seam running down it to showcase the model's ass and Jim had to admit that it did the trick. Panties. Just that, nothing more. Puzzled, if relieved, that Blair didn't want to see him in a French Maid's outfit or a bra, Jim turned his head. Blair was watching him, anxiety and hope both evident in his eyes.

Jim cleared his throat. "I could -- I could see myself in what's on page six -- but not the green, okay? Or the orange."

"Black or sea blue?" Blair asked tentatively, as if he wasn't quite certain Jim was serious.

What the hell. "Blue," Jim said and tossed the catalog aside. "It goes with my eyes."

***

"Open your eyes," Jim said after giving the panties one final twitch to make them settle over his balls just right. He wanted to crawl onto the bed and hide under the sheets, but instead he stood in the middle of the bedroom where Blair could see the whole picture.

Blair opened his eyes and stared at him in a silence that grew to fill the room.

"I look stupid, don't I?" Jim asked, his ears hot and filled with a weird buzzing, as if he were going to pass out. The panties clung, cool and pretty, to his ass and he was glad they'd gone for large because he was starting to need the extra space. "Blair? Say something, damn it, or I'm gonna take them off --"

Blair moaned, there was no other word for it, and took a few stumbling steps forward before falling to his knees in front of a startled Jim who did some moaning of his own as Blair began to press fervent, open-mouthed kisses to Jim's satin-covered groin. After half a dozen of them, Blair scrambled up and wrapped his arms around Jim, scattering kisses over his face. "God, you look incredible. You -- I can't believe you did this, God, you have no idea how good you look, fuck, Jim, I'm going to come just from looking at you, I'm seriously gonna lose it just from --"

"You’d better be able to get it back up if you do," Jim said warningly, stemming the babble with a kiss of his own, sweet, wet and flirty. "If I dress up for you, I want more than a quickie. You can go back to what you were doing and make me come, get this satin soaked through so it's really sticking to me, then I want you to spank me wearing them, see how that feels -- and I guess you'll have to take them down to fuck me, but you can see if they've got some give in them, maybe try and push your dick inside while they're still on me. God, yeah, let's try that. Then maybe we could put them on you and -- what? Why are you grinning like that?"


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