Chapter Text
Chris has to leave early that morning to meet with his office so he's in Sebastian's kitchen making them eggs and turkey bacon. “You got any ketchup, babe?” He's happier than he's been in years, waking up in Seb’s little apartment, playing with his strangely calm rabbits, waiting for his lover/boyfriend to finish up the shower, and now cooking them breakfast with Sebastian's non-GMO ingredients.
A year ago if you told Chris he’d have been outed by the press and estranged by his peers and colleagues, he’d have thought this would be the end for him. Fortunately, present day Chris is content with the turn of events which lead him here, whipping eggs for Sebastian and him in this kitchenette. He’s out, has someone he cares for whom of which cares for him, he’s got his dream job, and is more comfortable with himself than he’s ever been.
He’s scooping out the freshly scrambled eggs into individual plates when he hears a violent clamor from the bedroom, and he rushes to see if Sebastian is hurt.
“What happened?” Chris implores, lifting Sebastian up from his crumpled heap on his bedroom floor. The lotions and hair products scatter the floor in the bathroom are completely ignored by Sebastian, whose attention is on his phone.
“Oh god, oh god!” Sebastian whimpers into the palms of his hands, letting the phone thud onto the carpet.
“Sebastian. Babe, what’s—”
“I can’t do this!”
“What happened?! Just talk to me.” Chris grapples Sebastian’s flailing arms in an attempt to calm him.
Sebastian shoves Chris away, fighting back tears. “I was gonna tell you, I promise. I really was, but I wanted to know you wouldn’t judge me for it because I was young and stupid and desperate. Now everyone knows and all my friends and my mom will know. Fuck!”
“Sebastian. Back up a second. What are you talking about?” Heart ricocheting inside his chest, Chris gently grabs one of Sebastian’s hands in his.
“I used to do porn, okay!”
“What—?”
“Gay porn. I did gay porn as soon as I turned eighteen. Made over a dozen videos and they’re all online. And someone found out who I am and that you’re with me. And then people know about the club. I don’t know how but now everybody is gonna think…” Sebastian sniffles away the rest of his confession, meeting Chris’s wary gaze.
Unhelpfully, Chris remains silent, riding the torrent of emotion ripping through him. He turns away, leaving Sebastian to read the tightness of his shoulders through one of Sebastian’s oversized shirts.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Chris, I really am.”
Chris distantly hears his cell buzzing from Sebastian’s bedside table. He doesn’t even want to deal with whoever’s on the other end of that call. “Why didn’t you?”
Sebastian whips a hand through his wet hair. “I was going to, I really was. I just wasn’t sure you’d be accepting so I wanted to wait until I knew you wouldn’t wanna leave me.” He sounds so vain and pathetic but that hardly matters. His aspirations of working in diplomacy and helping immigrants, people like his mother, have all gone to shit.
“I wouldn’t have judged you. But it would have been better for us both if you were up front about it.”
“Well damn, it’s not exactly a good icebreaker. ‘Hi, I’m Sebastian, retired porn actor. Wanna see how well I can breathe through my nose while I go down on you?’”
“Seb, that’s not what I mean. I mean if you told me that, we could have been more careful.”
“Well, I’ve gone years without people knowing. It’s not like this is my fault,” Sebastian mumbles, feeling disgusting and in want of another shower.
Sebastian waits for a response. Swallowing, Chris pads over to Sebastian’s table to swipe open his phone. His eyes skim the uncontrollable influx of concerned messages. One from Anthony—normally the pinnacle of optimism and clarity—reads: What the hell, dude. Thought you wanted to come clean. I don’t know how much of this I can fix.
Chris braces against the fear that trickles down his spine. “But if you told me we could have figured something out,” Chris replies, voice deceptively level.
“Like what? What else could we have possibly done?”
“This affects me too.” Chris says instead. His eggs and bacon remain unfried. “Don’t talk to anyone, please? I have to get going. You have to promise me that you won’t talk to anyone.”
“What the hell do you think I’m gonna do, go on the news and explain it all away? It doesn’t work like that. Some things can’t be erased.”
“I don’t have the luxury of just allowing people to think whatever they want of me,” Chris bites. “My actions have consequences that are greater than me, than us. I have to think about my family, about this city, about how this makes me look—”
Fresh tears blur Sebastian’s vision. “So I guess it doesn’t matter that everyone knows that the flaming faggot did porn, huh?! As long as you can wipe your hands of this, it doesn’t matter that because of you millions of people know all about my disgusting past! Just another worthless fag getting what’s coming to him!”
“It’s not like no one watched it. Not like you kept it anonymous. What did you think was gonna happen?” Chris retorts idiotically.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Sebastian lets the tears fall. Heartstrings snapping in half all at once. “Some of us weren’t born with a goddamned silver spoon in our mouths. You know what, you don’t understand—you think this is about you and it isn’t. You’re just afraid to look bad next to me, and I’m the one whose life is getting picked apart and all you can do is worry about how it makes you look.”
Chris bows his head, defeated. The only sounds in the apartment are Chris shuffling to get his things and the soft click of one of Sebastian’s rabbits lapping from its water bottle. He spares Sebastian one last hopeless glance, wrought with regret.
He’s a zombie after that morning. The team elects he ignores the accusations about Sebastian and his relationship. He’d said his piece. Too many newscasts, radio shows, and articles from even the most trusted news sources paint him to be someone who either shares government secrets with male escorts, spends his free time with homeless gay youth, or the adulterer who’s had hookups with several men who are all keen to testify to their stories for their fifteen minutes of fame.
One thing those articles do have is common is that they drag Sebastian’s name through the mud. Most of what they say is false—but some is inevitably true. Referring to the pornographic videos that Chris shames himself into watching clips of. Clips of impossibly younger, doe eyed Sebastian getting fondled by three other guys twice his size. He's about to shut his Macbook and pour himself another glass of wine that he bought on the way to his apartment in DC, when his FaceTime chime notifies him he has a call waiting.
“There's no way that kid's a prostitute,” Scarlet says through the laptop's speakers, without a ‘hello’ and completely unprompted.
“What are you talking about?”
“Online. They can just publish these obviously libelous claims.” She chugs from what looks like to be a gigantic 7-Eleven slurpee. “Not sure if you should be thanking me or blaming me for introducing you two!”
“Oh please, you did not!”
“I sure did. I’ll never forgive you for not telling me about your whole, guy love.”
“Scarlet, I was gonna tell you. I was. Life got in the way.”
“Honey, I understand, but you can't keep such a gigantic part of you secret. It was bound to blow up in your face.”
“Don’t sugar coat it for us. Pretty sure it was more of a chain of explosions.”
“I'm serious. No telling how much damage was done to that boy of yours. Who, by the way, told me that you didn't know about his dancing? Or did I just spill another government secret?” Scarlet briefly stands to set down her slurpee, revealing her massively pregnant midsection.
“Now that's a long, complicated story.”
“Who the hell could have even outed you guys?”
“Shit, I don’t know.” It’s entirely possible someone followed him from his office or home to Sebastian’s apartment, and asked around about his personal life from his neighbors or friends. But that doesn’t make this Chris’s fault entirely. Right?
“Y’know, the first time I met him, he looked at you like a lost puppy. It was almost like, I knew it would happen, but it's one thing to fantasize, and another to watch you make out on my television? Are you two serious?”
“Like, are we gonna get married and have a dozen kids?”
“You know what I mean, idiot.”
Chris swallows. “We haven't, really. Discussed it. We kind of argued. I said some things. Can't exactly take them back.”
“True, but nothing’s unforgivable. Especially if you're in love.”
Scarlet gets a screen full of uncombed brown hair as Chris bows his head in remorse.
“You love him?”
“That's not what we argued about,” Chris says instead, expert in the art of debate.
“Was it about the porn thing? Chris. It's just porn.”
“It's not just porn. He never told me about it. He should have told me,” Chris mutters. Feeling more foolish than how he sounds, which is already pretty damn foolish.
“Would it have made a difference on his side?”
“Probably. I wouldn’t have let us get this close. It’s dangerous. Point proven.”
“You're all beauty, no brains, apparently. Look, I gotta go. Just wanted to check in. By the way it’s obvious when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” he mumbles to a blank screen.
--
Sebastian wears his shades inside the Starbucks he normally goes to before class, on the ridiculous notion that someone will recognize him as the political sex scandal he was always destined to be. Save from a few strange looks in his direction, which could be attributed to the sheen of sweat highlighting his brow, Sebastian manages to order his usual—an unsweetened iced coffee with soy milk. He’s trying to cut down on sugar and dairy.
He trudges towards the door, coffee in hand, when a whistle stops him in his tracks.
Sebastian freezes. It’s happening already. He’ll never leave his apartment again!
“Yo,” a voice says from behind him.
Sebastian turns slowly, painfully. Fear fizzles to confusion. It’s Mackie. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s your fault for being this predictable. Only took me one other Starbucks before this to run into you.”
“Why didn’t you just text me? What’s so important that you’re gonna make me late for class?”
“You never gave me your number. This was the only way I knew I could get in contact with you.” Mackie smirks, sipping a pint sized vanilla bean Frappuccino with entirely too much sass.
“I want you to know that Chris will never, ever blame you for any of this. It may appear like he does because he’s always been about saving face. Making himself as flawless as possible.”
Sebastian shakes his head. “He made himself pretty damn clear about what he wants. For me and for himself. I’m over it, anyway,” he lies.
Mackie raises his brow. “You know, nobody really cares about the fact you did adult films. And nobody really can find a credible source to the claims anyway, but by the look of that cold sweat, you sure think there has been.”
“I can’t talk about this right now!”
“Just sit down for a second. Hear me out.”
“No, you hear me out.” He grabs the chair across Mackie. “‘No one cares?’ My entire existence will forever be the barely-legal gay porn star, for as long as I live, that’s what people will remember me by. Chris didn’t even care. He was just thinking about himself.” He could never love me, or respect me, or think I’m his equal.
“That’s not true. Not if you let it. Not to sound cliché, but shit happens. You two can’t keep up this bad blood. It’s gonna destroy you, worse than Twitter ever could. Don’t blow this one.” Anthony tops off his frap. “I spend two hours finding you to tell you this, not because it’s my job to make Chris’s life easier, but it because you two are my friends, and believe it or not I do care. And he most definitely cares.”
Sebastian glares at his coffee, eyes avoiding Mackie at all costs. “Then why hasn’t he texted me?”
“Why haven’t you texted him?”
“Because I want space. I can’t just forget what he said. Even if he does change his heart. It still hurt.” And some guy across the way is smirking at him! He’s probably seen those stupid videos. For all Sebastian knows he watched them long before this bull, but Sebastian’s videos have never been super popular. He was nothing special online, and for the first time in a long time he wishes that he was once again anonymous. Maybe he should dye his hair. Would he look good as a redhead?
Sebastian ends up giving Mackie his cell number so he won’t have to waste time snooping around his campus.
“But it was too damn easy. One other Starbucks! One!” Mackie shouts after him.
--
“There's been a lot of rumors going around about Congressman Evans and his male hookers,” booms House Speaker Downey through the microphone over the backdrop of red, white, and blue. Hundreds of older men and women grumble and throw Downey scandalized looks from their seats. Chris just sinks further into his leather chair, longing for the fire alarm to go off.
Unfortunately Downey continues his outspoken address to the House. “Or his gay orgies or whatever new exaggerated claim that’ll material out of thin air. But to set things straight—pardon my choice of words…”
Reluctantly, Chris sits up. He can be professional.
“Is this junior high, people? A closeted politician is what gets everybody's goat these days? No wonder he tried so hard to hide it. And no wonder a supermajority of America thinks we’re a joke.” Downey pauses when one of the advisors whispers something in his ear. To whatever he says, Downey waves a dismissive hand right in the guy’s face. “Not like we got a room full of saints. That’s just statistically improbable. The most outlandish claims have absolutely zero substantiality! And come on, have any of you actually seen his boy-toy? Drop dead gorgeous, let me tell you. Probably have the most conservative of you all week in your replaced knees.”
Several members chuckle, but Chris can feel the blood pressure rise from most of the older politicians.
“Congressman Evans is a damn good representative and has a lot to offer us and this beautiful country. He’s not some sad, gay outcast you can pressure into resigning. It makes even less sense that you all are more caught up on the hot, gay make out than the security breech! Let’s get back to business and stop embarrassing ourselves, for Christ’s sake. Where’s my gavel?”
Chris blinks away tears of mirth and mortification. Only Downey could get away with an opening like that. The rest of his session continues without incident, and he even gets the personal contact info from several of his neighboring representatives. He walks out at sunset with a small smile on his face, for the first time all week filled to the brim with hope.
He drops his rental’s keys onto the wall side table that came with the apartment, turning on his tablet to check his private email. Mackie has a list of news sites that would like more of his story, but for the most part there isn’t any indication that anyone wants him out of his seat. You got lucky.
Without thinking, he texts Sebastian. How are you doing?
Sebastian’s doesn’t reply, but his iPhone helpfully lets him know Sebastian immediately read his text.
Chris calls him on instinct. Fortunately Sebastian answers on the second ring. “Chris, this isn’t a good time.”
“Babe… I called to apologize. I acted like a total dick and I really don’t want you to be mad at me. I was impulsive. And I didn’t consider how this all affects you.” Chris bites his lip, finger hovering over his car’s ignition.
There’s a pause, and a harsh clang. “Can I please call you back later? — hold on,” he says something to someone in the background. “I want to talk about this, just when I have more clarity—” Sebastian’s weary voice is interrupted not by Chris, but by a distinctly male voice from Sebastian’s end saying what sounds like “we should really get going.”
Chris inhales sharply, the air in his chest ice-cold. “Oh. I’ll—I guess I’ll call you later then.” He feels lightheaded, furious at himself for ever pushing Sebastian away into someone else’s arms. He emotes something deep and pure and incredibly desperate and idiotic. Sebastian still hasn’t hung up. “I love you. Bye.” Chris throws his phone into the well of the passenger seat in a spastic flourish, and then turns his radio on the highest excusable volume, blasting Cher through the speakers.
Sebastian stares at his phone when the music doesn’t stop. He gets through about two verses of Walking in Memphis before Chace squawks at him. “Sebastian. Let’s go.”
Blinking away stunned tears, Sebastian hangs the phone up. He stuffs it in his sweatpants pocket, along with his wallet and keys, and a baggie of straw for Perry to chew on in case he gets too anxious. Car travel already makes him pee uncontrollably so he asked Chace to sit with a towel and a plastic bag in his lap with Perry in case he wets himself.
Last night his heart wrenched with distress when he returned home from his evening class to Pumpkin’s incessant squealing. Perry had contracted some kind of illness during the time Sebastian was absent. His eyes and nose tacky with red, and sneezing like he’s never seen either of his bunnies sneeze. Sebastian immediately called Chace, who attempted to convince him that they can wait until morning, but Sebastian begged him to come over and help him to the vet.
“Sebastian. What’s taking so long?” Chace groans, irritated.
Oh nothing. Chris just told me he loves me and I think he’s playing me Cher. “Alright. Let’s go. You got the bag?”
“I was ready, like, foreverago. Who called? Was it him? What’d he say?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
It’s grueling and terrifying to wait for the veterinarian’s office. They were lucky enough they could find a 24 hour one, but Sebastian would be lying if he said luck had any pull on his life lately.
The visit goes by smoothly, multiple thanks to their emotionally supportive vet. Times like this cause Sebastian’s faith in humanity to be restored. The doctor tells Sebastian to administer antibiotics to Perry’s infection, and if Pumpkin comes down with the same ailments, to bring him in for treatment.
When Sebastian asks if he should separate them, the doctor recommends they be together as they always have lived, because the companionship of the other will be the best medicine. That comment causes Sebastian to have an extensive introspective moment. Talk about real life reflections.
--
Chris makes it to his family’s estate in one piece after a delayed flight. He attempts sleep to the sound of wind shaking the trees outside through a crack in his window, longing to bask in the cool summer night rather than severe air conditioning. Its natural warmth reminds him of Sebastian, the guy he gave his heart to and is probably off hanging out with one of his ‘friends with benefits,’ like he figured out Sebastian was doing yesterday.
Yesterday, the day Chris stupidly told Sebastian he loved him, without reason or control. Chris kept getting trapped in his head that he didn’t realize his phone died until he was already in bed, the bed he spent his teen years on. He’s probably the only congressman who still lives with his parents.
He slides out of bed. Barely registering the clock on the wall reads almost two in the morning, he pads down the hall to Scott’s room. He enters without knocking and lands stomach first over his brother’s legs.
“Scott.” How is his brother not awake? There’s literally another person sitting on top of him.
Chris puts his finger under Scott’s nose, checking to make sure he’s still alive. Unfortunately he senses his breath. Chris pinches Scott’s nose, and he spazzes and snorts in retaliation. “What the fuck?!”
“Ssh, you’ll wake up Mom.”
“Why are you sitting on me?”
“Because I need advice,” Chris pouts, flopping to the foot of the bed to relieve his brother’s legs of the pressure.
“Couldn’t you have waited until like, noon?”
“Please, for once in your life be useful.”
“Alright, alright. What is it? You want to know how to bottom?”
“What?! Shut up.”
“Then what?”
“I…told a twenty-something year old that I love him. On accident, though.”
Scott perks up, eager for the juicy two A.M. drama. “Oh fuck! Why did you do that?”
Chris shifts. “It felt right.”
“So was it on accident, like you didn’t mean it and want to take it back?”
“No, not really. We had a fight, and we haven’t spoken to each other in over a week. And then when we did speak I heard him on the other end of the phone talking to another guy. I panicked. ”
Chris will admit it to himself. He really does love Sebastian. He only wishes he could have a second chance to prove it to him.
“Honestly? Go for it, man. You'll hate yourself forever if you don’t.”
--
Sebastian warms up for his first show since his little scandal, determined to not let down what few fans he has. He dresses up in a red and black corset, slimming his waist and widening his hips. His fake breasts threaten to spill over the sequined, lacy trim. Completing his look with his matching panties and waist garters, Sebastian swallows his nerves, flashing back to simpler times when dancing was just dancing, not a stunt to prove something to himself. Not a ploy to get his crush to notice him. He reminisces on his first routine, a clumsy Madonna spiel, all passion and the grace of youth and artistic expression.
When Sebastian peeks onstage, he's bombarded with a rowdy crowd, some of whom are his friends from school. Including Chace, who grins at him madly, cheers, waves, then gets all their friends to cheer and wave and raise their drinks. Sebastian laughs, feeling lighter.
His heart lurches when he catches himself looking for Chris among the crowd. He doesn't know what he'd do if he did.
After the dance, one filled with laughter of his own, positive energy from his friends, and several crowd selfies, Sabrina curtsies through her thunderous applause. Instead of taking her detour backstage, Sebastian hops off to the main lobby to hang with his friends. Ronnie passes him two shots and he throws one back enthusiastically. Chace throws his arm around Sebastian’s waist and snatches the other for himself.
“Heya, stranger!” Ronnie shouts not to Sebastian, but to someone she sees behind him. Sebastian spins, and Chace untangles himself from Sebastian, now eye to eye with a lightly stubbled Chris. His chest is bound under a snug grey tee.
Even the residual animosity from earlier that week can’t keep a smile off his face. Chris’s is less enthusiastic, molded by an underlying sullenness.
“Want anything, hon?” Ronnie breaks the silence. She’s well aware of their relationship now, but Sebastian’s grateful she holds onto her professionalism.
“Oh, no, but thank you.” Chris’s gaze never leaves Sebastian’s.
Ronnie floats off with Sebastian’s and Chace’s empty glasses.
“Pleasure to meet you, Senator!” shouts Chace drunkenly. “He’s way hotter in person,” he adds to no one in particular.
Sebastian gently guides Chace to one of the side sofas. “I’ll see you later.”
“How am I g’nna get home?”
“Uber?” Sebastian tugs Chace’s phone out of his back pocket to help. “Or tag along with one of the guys.”
“You got it, hot stuff.” Chace punctuates himself by petting Sebastian’s face through his wig.
Rolling his eyes, Sebastian whips his head around to Chris. Only to find that he’s vanished. Ronnie so helpfully thumbs to the direction of the door, to his disappointment.
“Love ‘em and leave ‘em, huh?” Sebastian shouts to Chris’s retreating form. The moonlight cascading down from the clear Boston sky tantalizes the sequins on his bust and hips.
Chris bows his head. He turns around but doesn’t make any move to walk closer, standing in the road like he’s waiting for a bus—or to get hit by one. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry.”
“Let’s go back inside. I’m sure we can use one of the rooms.”
Unable to stop himself, Chris raises his brow.
“To talk, Chris!”
“Oh, well in that case—”
“Come back in, you pervert,” Sebastian smirks.
Thankfully, Chris follows him back in the club. No one pays them any concern—all of them too wrapped up in one another. That, or they think he and Chris are about to do each other backstage and want to give them their distance.
“This room should be empty. But you never know during nights like these.” Sebastian’s heels clack in the dimly lit room—graciously void of hookups.
Sebastian locks the door behind them, and Chris snorts. “Just talking, right?”
“Shut up, unless you want Chace to sneak back here and ogle your man tits some more.”
“I’m not the one he was ogling, that’s for sure,” Chris attempts to joke, but it comes out spiteful.
Stiffening, Sebastian scratches at his fishnets. “Where’d that come from?”
“It’s fine. It is. It’s just really obvious.” Sebastian doesn’t miss the bob of Chris’s throat.
“I really don’t even know—I don’t know how to respond to that. I don’t… sleep around with my friends. I know it’s hard to believe that I can’t help but wet my dick every two seconds—”
“Seb, that’s not what I meant! That’s not how I see you,” Chris interrupts in desperation. “It’s just the other night on the phone, and then tonight...”
Sebastian sighs, leaning against the door. “What other night?”
“When I called you and you were going out with some guy. Wasn’t it him?”
Throwing his head back, Sebastian cackles. Chris’s face pinches with concern. “Chris! We were going to the vet!”
“The what?”
“The veterinarian! One of my rabbits came down with the snuffles. That’s what you were freaking out about?”
“Um,” Chris is at a loss. “I mean, he was pretty handsy.”
“He’s always handsy when he’s drunk. I wanted to have a serious talk. Can we forget about Chace’s dumb ass?”
“Oh-kay,” Chris mumbles, feeling idiotic. And somehow relieved he freaked over nothing. But there’s still that unwarranted and unprompted love confession looming over his head. And the fact that he’s guilty of lashing out about Sebastian’s past.
“So why did you come here tonight?”
Chris leans against the door alongside Sebastian. “I wanted to apologize for those absolutely idiotic things I said to you. I shouldn’t have been so selfish and disgusting, because you deserve so much better. Then the worst part—or the best part—I had one of those realizations. You know the ones where you realize how you feel after you’ve already blown it.”
His eyes are trained forward, but Sebastian’s are owlish, absorbing every micro expression in Chris’s profile.
“I know for a fact that that publicity nightmare could never, ever have been your fault. And I’m not even sure it really could have been avoided. I’m just sorry I ever made you feel guilty about who you are or where you come from—because I would never change a single goddamned thing about you.” Chris looks right at him, and then swoops in for a hands on hips, chest to chest kiss. Pulling back a fraction to get out one final declaration, laying his heart bare. “Because I’ve fallen for you. I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Ever the tactician, Chris shuts Sebastian up with another kiss. Promptly separating them with another soft pop. “And I know I definitely said that before but I wanted to say it again because I want you to know that I mean it.”
Sebastian smiles bright like daylight. He wraps his arms around Chris’s back and holds him close, unbridled so the boning in his corset digs uncomfortably into their chests.
“Oh, Chris,” Sebastian mutters, unable to describe the elation blossoming from within his heart. “I’m sorry for taking this all out on you—I shouldn’t have been so secretive. I was just afraid.”
“I know you were. You had every right to be. I know you didn’t ask to be brought into the spotlight like this, but that’s my life and that’s always gonna be my life.”
“Well I don’t care. Like I told you before, I’m with you.” Sebastian swipes his wig hair away from his face. “And I love you. Right back.”
Chris squeezes him tight. “I know this sounds crazy, believe me I know but I don’t want anything like this to ever happen again. And if the best way to ensure that you never get hurt again is to resign, then so be it.”
“Chris! Don’t you ever say that again! Nothing good will come from that. Let’s start with dinner with your family?”
“My dad might not be too excited, but he’ll come around. And then a road trip to see yours?”
“That sounds awesome. They’ll be in town for graduation though. Which by the way, I hope the offer still stands. About joining you in your place in Washington?” Sebastian’s so full of hope.
“You bet, Seb.” Wrenching Sebastian by his hips, Chris delves in for more heated and impassioned kisses. Sebastian moans, locking his netted leg around Chris’s thigh. Chris pushes him against the door for more leverage. “Please tell me there’s a way I can fuck you right now,” he whimpers into Sebastian’s ear.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” Sebastian grins. “There’s a basket over there with lube but no condoms. Don’t look at me like that! It’s for the patrons to take care of themselves so they don’t have to walk out with gigantic boners! Jesus, Chris.”
Chris snatches a little packet. Then another to be safe. He turns Sebastian so that his chest is against the door and Sebastian backs his ass into him helpfully.
Instead of the fast, raw fucking he expects—love confession or not, he’s still human—Chris reaches up with his clean hand for Sebastian’s wig. “Help me with this. I don’t want to damage it.”
Trembling with need, Sebastian unpins his auburn wig, letting it and his cap flop onto the sofa a few feet away. His breasts and corset are next and Chris slips it off of him, careful not to mess them in any way. Same goes for the panties and fishnets, but those end up around Sebastian’s ankles, his heels keeping them from touching the floor.
Chris tugs his own jeans to his knees having gone commando that day, and slicks Sebastian and himself up. “You sure you don’t mind the no-condom?”
“How’s your pull out game? Not like you have anything, right?”
“God, no!”
“Then I’m ready when you are—fuck!” Sebastian moans, biting his lip in punishment. He can’t believe Chris is bottoming out in his place of work, one thin door away from a rowdy crowd. He shivers when a talkative guy brushes past the door and braces his hands against its frame, letting Chris pound into him.
“Oh, fuck me,” Sebastian whimpers, scraping his forehead on the door, letting Chris ravage him deeply, hastily.
Chris hears another bustle and a collective cheer from outside. He slams Sebastian harder than he ever has before, slowing down to reach around and jerk him off. Sebastian pushes backward, meeting everything Chris is giving to him.
Gasping, Sebastian comes into Chris’s hand, limply taking Chris’s thrusts. Chris stiffens and comes deep enough Sebastian’s worried the force of it might knock something loose. “Fuck,” Chris punctuates.
“Mmh, what happened to pulling out? Don’t you know I’m not on the pill?”
“Oh shit, were you serious?”
“Hopefully I can keep it all in on my way to the bathroom,” Sebastian giggles, both of them still panting.
“God, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry, babe. We’ll make a bottom out of you—then you’ll realize. All the best tops have to bottom once in a while.”
Chris kisses his neck, palming his ass then he pulls out, still careful not to make a mess. “I need all the help I can get.”
“Shut up, you know you always fuck me silly.”
“’Fuck you silly?’” Chris smirks, helping tug Sebastian’s tights and panties up.
“Shut up! I’m post orgasmic. You can’t tease me until the end of my refractory period.”
“Bottoming, lesson one?”
“Yes,” Sebastian giggles again, and then sobers, face to face with his lover—his lover. He rakes his polished acrylic nails through Chris’s hair. “You know I really, really, truly love you.”
“I know. And there’s nothing that could ever change that. Our sex tape could leak and I wouldn’t care!”
“Let’s not go crazy,” Sebastian admonishes.
“Ready for the walk of shame?” Chris asks when Sebastian finishes putting his costume back on.
“Anytime.”