Crows Carols

Later, when his face has mostly cleared, Tommy asks politely and Evan accommodates him with a smirk, putting on his Halloween costume again (sans giant mustache -- "It looks like a broom," he'd told Evan, who'd leaned in and scrapped it along the skin of his shoulder. "Feels like one, too," as he pushed him away, laughing). He didn't get to enjoy it the first time -- kissing a cursed Evan was one thing; full body exposure to his most sensitive bits is something else entirely. His mouth goes dry when Evan walks into the bedroom, eyes him up and down until he can’t keep his hands to himself any longer. Sidles up to Evan, grips his shirt firmly and then yanks it open so the buttons ping softly on the floor, ignoring Evan's indignant, "hey!" “Howdy, partner,” Tommy says, as he moves his fingers down to twist open the buttons of Buck’s jeans, before pushing him down onto the bed, openly leering. He takes in the rise and fall of Evan’s exposed chest, the shadow of soft curls where his jeans are peeled back but stuck around his thighs.  Evan looks up at him unblinking, smirks slightly. “Save a horse,” he starts, and Tommy breathes out a laugh as he climbs on the bed and straddles him. “I’m definitely gonna ride a cowboy,” Tommy says, carefully putting Evan’s hat on the side table to slide his hands into his hair.  --- The late afternoon sun is filtering through the windows of the loft when he hears the shower turn off, the sounds of scuffling up in the loft. Hollers up, "Feelin’ better?” “Uh huh," is the response right behind him. Turns and almost swallows his tongue -- Evan’s right there at the bottom of the stairs, with just his cowboy hat clutched in front of him, giving the barest illusion of respectability.  There's nothing respectable about him. Or what Tommy wants to do to him.

Holding up

Art by Kevin Chupik