“They’re old. I don’t know why I’ve kept them really,” he says, shaking his head. “They probably don’t even fit anymore, and I don’t—”
“So, try them on.”
“What?” He glances up at me from the floor where he’s crouching over the box.
“You should try them on. See if they still fit.”
“I don’t know. It’s not really my style anymore.” He shrugs. But then he picks up a top, or a hoodie of some sort.
“Try that one,” I say, nodding at it.
He bites his bottom lip, dragging his fingers across his forehead. “Okay, but… Like, don’t laugh at me, or some shit.”
I drop my shoulders. “Don’t even say that shit to me.”
“I need to grab shoes too, or it’ll look stupid,” he says, taking the hoodie and walking towards his bedroom.
When he comes back out, his jeans are tucked into a pair of Dr Marten boots, and he’s wearing the hoodie. But it’s not a regular one—this one’s open in the front and cropped. And he’s a fucking liar, because he’s got abs. I know he does—I’ve seen them before. They’re not super protruding but they’re there. And then his slim waist and gutters all covered in fucking sun-kissed skin.
I just stare at him, jaw slack, mouth gaping. He looks all self-conscious, and shy and I don’t get it because he’s hot as fucking hell. Those clothes were fucking tailormade for him.
“You used to wear that?”
He shrugs. “Sometimes.”
I clasp a hand over my mouth, dragging it down. “Fuck! That’s really hot, Seth.”
He frowns. “You think so?”
I raise my brows. “You kidding? I’m sporting a semi.”
“Fucking liar,” he says shaking his head and snickering.
“You wanna feel?”
He looks down at himself, and then up at me through his lashes, and that lopsided smile across his face, and my heart does something crazy, like it skips a beat or beats a little harder or something. I rub a fist across my chest as he picks up another shirt from the box, holding it up in front of him. It’s some kind of see-through thing. Mesh maybe. It’s black, short-sleeved and cropped, too.
“Try it!” I say, leaning back on the couch, watching him pull the hoodie off and put the top on. It hugs his shoulders, and chest, and I can see his nipples through the fabric, and yeah, that makes my dick take notice, too.
I clench my fist, moving it up to my mouth and drag my eyes all over him. And maybe he can see it all over my face, that I’m barely holding it together because he bites back a smile and with a little more confidence, he pulls out another shirt from the box. Mesh again, but this one is sleeve-less and the hem reaches down to the waist of his jeans, and it has a hood that he pulls up over his hair.
Look, I love black clothes. That’s my MO, but Seth in black? In tight, black clothes? With his nipples right fucking there and his ass, and legs, and arms, and mouth… I’m obsessed. I can’t decide if I should whip out my dick and jerk off to the sight of him, or if I want to rip the clothes off him, and have my way with him, so I just stare.
“Can’t believe they still fit,” Seth says, fidgeting with the hem.
I just nod. And then I get up and walk over to him. Running a hand over his chest.
“You look like a model,” I mumble.
“Get outta here,” he laughs, shaking his head and his cheeks blushes a little.
“Yeah, no, but you do.” My eyes are darting all over him, taking everything in and my throat is a little dry when I swallow. “I like your usual style, but this?”
“What about it?” he asks, voice low.
What about it? Everything. I really, really like how they mold to his body. How you can see his every shape and form. I love how the fabric hugs his arms, pecs, waist, ass, thighs… Everything. It’s sexy and hot and it just… Looks right. Like he was meant to dress like this.
He shouldn’t hide this spectacular body in baggy clothes, but I’ve never told anyone how to dress before and I won’t start now, so, I lock my eyes with him, and tell him the only right thing.
