A Perfect Match 3

Derived from prompt-words offered on the TQ Social LJ, 04/27/2010

Words (with credit given to those that played, by their LJ names):
bathroom (crystal_lilly)
fashion (ali_wilde)
astonish (pd_singer)
Josh (andy_slayde)
amethyst (jl_merrow)
arsonist (writerliz)
primrose (marasmine)
corn (dcjuris)
regrets (readah0lic)
bawdy (countrygirlxxoo)

* * *

There were certain disadvantages to living with a blind man, but as Steele wasn’t the sort to deny that fundamental truth, it wasn’t really an issue. In all honesty, he’d gotten used to the degree of order that Laith’s disability had imparted to his home.

There was something soothing about knowing that his toothbrush and razor were always in the same place; that the shampoo and the conditioner needed to keep Laith’s long white hair manageable had their own spot in the bathroom.

Yes, if Steele had still been living alone, he still wouldn’t be surrounded by chaos, but he’d never had reason before for the sheer degree of orderliness that had become almost second nature. So perhaps he was wrong about the disadvantages.

True, Laith wasn’t able to tell him if his clothes went together, but Steele had known enough men with perfectly good eyes who hadn’t been able to do that, too. And it wasn’t terribly important, in any case. Laith was more interested in textures, which had the added benefit of those slender, long-fingered hands stroking Steele’s sleeve or pants leg on a regular basis. Steele had never imagined himself to be the sort to enjoy random touches, but he definitely didn’t mind them from Laith. Would have missed them if they were to suddenly stop.

So it was a learning experience, his relationship with Laith. And Steele was entirely willing to do his homework. Repeatedly and with no regrets.

What he didn’t much care for was shopping, however. That had always been something of a chore, and the addition of Laith to those trips hadn’t made it any less so.

“What color is this, honey?” Steele dreaded the question, mostly because he had no idea about how to answer it. He wasn’t even sure about why Laith asked, in the first place. Which did nothing to prevent him from answering.

He gazed helplessly at the shirt Laith held and while he silently admitted that the amethyst shade complemented his lover’s skin and made those brightly green eyes seem even brighter, he struggled for words.

“I suppose the best descriptor would be to say that it’s a rather interesting shade of purple, love,” he finally answered. “Not dark, but not as light as the other.” And not really that similar in tone, but somewhat within the same family as the primrose-hued sweater Laith had asked about just a few minutes earlier. “It would look quite attractive on you.”

“Better than that corn blue you liked?”

Steel frowned, then smiled. “It was cornflower blue. Corn tends to be yellow, though I do believe I’ve heard of blue corn. But yes. The amethyst is a more attractive shade. It would look lovely on you.”

“It would probably look even better on our bedroom floor,” Laith suggested and Steele couldn’t help laughing, loud and sharp. Enough so to draw several glances from other shoppers, but Steele barely noted that. He was too busy looking at his man.

Close to a year since the night Steele had surprised Laith into falling on the snow and ice crusted sidewalk and it still struck Steele as a bit odd that they fit together so well. Not merely in the physical sense, though that was true, as well, but… Laith had slipped into Steele’s life and home and heart so easily and completely, it was nearly unbelievable. And perhaps, as Laith had said more than once, it was simply fate. That was possible, Steele supposed. Although he was a man who relied upon logic and reason, he had deliberately chosen not to examine Laith’s sudden appearance in his world too closely. Some things disappeared when examined in a more than cursory fashion.

“What about this one?” Laith’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and Steele chuckled quietly at the truly hideous thing Laith held. Steele wasn’t sure whether it was meant to be a shirt, sweater or jacket, but it was definitely ugly.

“It’s rather… disgustingly, painfully cheerful. I’m a fair bit disturbed that anyone would deliberately choose to pair polka dots and zig zagging stripes in such a profusion of shades and call it fashion.” If an arsonist ever targeted the store, Steele hoped they burned that one item first. It deserved it, having already seared his retinas.

Laith frowned and set the whatever-it-was aside with visible reluctance. “That’s a shame. It feels so nice. Oh, well. Next item.”

Steele stood there and sighed silently, describing shirts and sweaters and pants aloud. And Laith nodded easily, accepting Steele’s word for things. It showed a certain sort of trust that Steele enjoyed. That it was Laith who trusted him in even the smallest matters only made him smile, as usual.

The truly baffling thing about shopping with Laith was the way the man selected a million and one items and only actually purchased one or two, and sometimes none. Steele’s process was a fair bit different, consisting of ‘does it fit me, do I hate it, is it priced properly.’ Of course Laith, with his slender build and more normal height, had more options. That only made sense. Steele still preferred his own method, but he did enjoy watching Laith’s face, seeing flickering emotions that reflected his enjoyment of the feel of things.

“Okay. I think I should try these on.” Laith’s smile changed in some indefinable way. It didn’t grow larger or curve his lips more, but something changed, none the less, turning that grin from sunny to wicked. “And I think you should help me. It’d suck if I tripped or something, you know?”

Oh, Steele knew. In fact, he knew exactly what Laith was thinking. He also knew it was at the very least a bad idea and quite likely illegal. Which did nothing to keep him from following the lure of Laith’s bottom, nicely displayed as it was by the black slacks Laith wore.

Within the dressing room, which Steele was pleased to discover was an actual room with a door, rather than a cubicle that offered only a curtain for privacy, he changed his mind. He apparently hadn’t known what Laith had been thinking. And while Steele wasn’t entirely fond of surprises, he certainly didn’t mind, in this case. There was something about seeing Laith on his knees, slender digits already opening Steele’s jeans, that was beyond appealing. Even more so when Laith pulled fabric aside and down, then wrapped his lips around the head of Steele’s rapidly firming cock with a tiny little happy moan.

“Oh. God, love.” His own voice sounded strained and rough, but surely that was to be expected. Steele was quite certain of that much. Another sound left him, though Steele couldn’t call it a word. That was also to be expected, though, because Laith’s mouth was hot and wet and tight around his base, all of a sudden, Steele’s tip likely halfway down that long throat, though they’d never measured.

That sound, whatever it might have been, seemed to spur Laith on. His head moved faster, pulling back, pushing close, and the contented mumbles he released vibrated through Steele’s flesh. His hands flew to Laith’s head, fingers tangling in long white strands and Steele tried his best not to moan or groan or bellow like a wounded water buffalo. Sadly, it was an unsuccessful effort because one more hard bit of suction and a tongue flick against the tiny slit in his tip had Steele grunting out something that might have been “yes” or “now” or “love” though he couldn’t be sure which.

Whatever it was, Laith was pleased. That much was obvious from the smugly satisfied look he wore when he finished swallowing and pulled off of Steele’s cock, face tilting upwards. “Mmmm. I’ve always wanted to do that in here. Thanks, honey.”

Steele shook his head, well aware of the fact that Laith wouldn’t know it. Then he carefully released his lover’s hair and raised him to his feet. He pulled Laith in close, breathing him in. “You astonish me on a near-daily basis, love,” Steele murmured. “That you would thank me only adds to that. And as much as I would truly enjoy staying right where we are, I suspect that a store employee is probably mere seconds away from ejecting us. Forcibly, if necessary.” He was smiling, though, and so was Laith when Steele pulled back.

“Oh, fine.” Laith’s grin grew. “I guess I’d better buy something or they’ll never let me back in this place again. I still wish that one thing wasn’t so ugly. It really did feel amazing. But I wouldn’t really want to explain that… ‘yes, I was dressed by a blind man,’ every time I wore it.”

Steele laughed. “Give me the things you’d like to have. I’ll deal with the staff and bring the bag back to you. I find myself less than pleased with the notion of salespersons noticing how hard you are, love, and I doubt we’ve adequate time to—”

The loud knock on the dressing room door came as no surprise. In fact, Steele was rather surprised that it had taken so long. “Yes, we’re finished in here.”

“For now,” Laith grumbled. “And I’ll just walk really close to you until we’ve paid, honey. Maybe we can stop at another store, too. It’s bound to be more comfortable than jerking off in the car.” He sighed.

Steele sighed, too, but he gathered the clothing Laith had dropped on the floor and handed it to him. “I suppose you can carry those as a shield,” he suggested as they left the dressing room, his face flushed while he studiously ignored the clerk who’d apparently drawn the short straw and been sent to oust them.

He paused on the way to the register, picking up the truly horrendous shirt-sweater-jacket thing, and Laith was right. It felt wonderful, even to his less sensitive hands. Ah, well. Perhaps they could dye it. If not… Steele would simply have to get used to seeing it, around the house, at least. Laith would enjoy the soft, lush fabric against his skin and Steele figured he could buy extra aspirin if looking at it gave him the headache he suspected would occur. “Small price to pay,” he muttered, followed swiftly by “Nothing, love. I was simply thinking out loud.”

The mall was relatively quiet when they left the store, Laith holding on to Steele’s arm with one hand and the bag of clothing with the other. “Are you certain you wouldn’t rather go home?” Steele asked as they started past the exit doors closest to the car. “I thought we might have a nice bath together. I could read you a bit more of that bawdy tale you like so much.” He leaned down a bit and whispered “If you’re still fully turgid and in need when we get there, I might be induced to ride your lovely cock, as well.”

Laith stopped. He stopped walking and seemed to stop breathing for a moment or two. “Wait. Hot bath, Josh Lanyon, and your fine-as-fuck ass? Oh, happy birthday to me! Well, come on! What are you waiting for, honey? Let’s get the hell home!”

“Of course, love. Whatever makes you happy.” He meant it, too. There was no other reason that he would still be subjecting himself to Randy’s monthly visits with the wax-from-hell, after all. “It would possibly be a good idea to let Bella and Buffy out, as well. They’ve been cooped up inside for hours, now. But they have bones.”

“Uh-huh. Walk faster, honey.” Laith’s fingers on his arm tightened. “The girls have their bones and I have one, too. But mine’s for you. Now, move it, Steele.”

Oh, yes. He was definitely looking forward to getting Laith home. No question.


2 thoughts on “A Perfect Match 3

  1. I really, really love these two men. I would definitely be interested in reading something more substantial about them – a novella perhaps. I’ve just finished reading the 2nd FGC and have to say that they were very, very good. 🙂 Karen

    • Thanks, Karen! So glad you enjoy Steel and Laith (and the FGC book, as well).

      I don’t have any fixt plans to do a longer Steel & Laith story, but they do tend to reappear in prompt stories on my days at the Torquere Social live journal, so I doubt their story is finished yet. *grins*


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