Well-Tailored (Thorne and Dash 4)
I’ll get what I want when I’m finished.
His dick had gotten him nothing but trouble; why should he listen to it?
Maybe because it did get him a fuckload of money he could use to go to school or start his own business if he chose to. And fucking Darius would be a lot more fun than fighting with his damned serger.
“Why is this thread so fucking tangled?”
Darius jumped up from the couch. “What did you do to my machine?”
“Nothing. More like what did it do to me?”
Darius pushed him out of the way and bent to look at the serger. “Motherfucker!” he shouted. Then he fumbled around on one of the shelves until he found a pair of reading glasses.
Marc’s mouth fell open as he watched Darius bend over and fiddle with the machine while wearing those goddamn glasses. He wanted to move behind him, pull his pants down and— Would Darius bottom for him? Had he ever for anyone? Marc was determined to find out.
“You threaded it wrong.”
Marc bristled. “I did not.”
“Look.” Darius beckoned.
Marc leaned over, moving close enough that they were nearly pressed together. He breathed in Darius’s scent—the lotion he kept in the bathroom and something warm and musky that was simply him. For a few seconds he couldn’t think. Then he realized Darius was talking.
“What did you say?”
Darius turned and raised a brow. If Marc moved an inch or two, they’d be kissing.
Finish the costume first.
“Go on. Show me what I did wrong. I know how much you enjoy pointing out my faults.”
“That’s not all I enjoy,” he mumbled.
He talked Marc through the steps, showing remarkable patience—at least on the Darius scale. He only called Marc a wanker once.
“Now it’s your turn,” he said when he finished.
Marc tried to protest when Darius pulled the thread out. It would take him forever to get the machine right with Darius hanging over him. He could feel the heat coming off him.
“Are you even listening?” Darius asked, but his voice was amused, not angry.
“I’m trying.”
Darius brushed Marc’s hand as he stepped back. “Is something bothering you?” This playful, teasing version of Darius was somehow even more distracting than you-have-five-seconds-to-get-naked-and-spread-your-arse Darius.
Marc gave him a pointed look. “You don’t do innocent well.”
Darius sniffed. “Thread the fucking serger.”
“Ah, there’s the Darius I know.”
Marc’s fingers slipped twice as he began, but finally he had the machine set up to Darius’s satisfaction. “Thank you for your help.” He used a saccharine tone he knew would piss Darius off. “I’m going to finish this costume before I pack up. Don’t feel like you have to stay.”
“So that’s your plan for the evening, is it?”
“There’d be no point in you showing me how to work the machine otherwise, now would there?” Marc didn’t do innocent much better than Darius, but he was sure as hell trying.
“There’s always a point to learning something new.” How did Darius make everything sound dirty?
“I know a lot of things I could teach you.”
“Are you so sure?” His tone made Marc shiver.
“If you let me finish sewing this fucking costume, maybe you could find out.”
Darius swept his gaze down Marc’s body. “You could always take a break.”
This man was dangerous to Marc’s sanity, not to mention his work ethic. “Not until I’m done.”
Darius huffed. “I’ll just go back to this shitty work I’m doing.”
“You do that,” Marc said sweetly.
A little after ten, Marc put in the last few stitches. He turned off the sewing machine and massaged the back of his neck. He’d been sitting in one position for way too long.
“Are you done?” Darius asked, not bothering to mask his eagerness.
“I think so.” He showed off the costume. “What do you think?”
“Fuck me, that looks great.”
“Yeah?”
Darius nodded. “And you’d look hot as fuck in it.”
“You fancy a Regency lord?”
“Hell yes. I’d drag your Jane Austen arse to a wooded grove and have at it.”
“I just bet you would. If you get to fuck me in this, then I want you in those damn glasses.”
“What these?” Darius pulled them off.
“Yes, they’re fucking hot.”
Darius looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “So are you finished for the night?”
Marc grinned. “Are you?”
“If I look at one more column of numbers, I swear I’ll go blind.”
“And here I thought that would happen from you jerking off all the time.”
“Why would I need to do that when I’ve got a willing arse to sink my cock into?”
Marc narrowed his eyes. “How do you know I’m willing?”
“I wouldn’t have thought you a cruel tease.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you a man with a mouth like a sailor who’d been raised by wolves if I hadn’t heard you.”
Darius smiled. “You love my mouth.”
“Around my cock or saying filthy things while you fuck me? I sure do.”
“Well, bless your heart.” He used a shudder-inducing imitation of a Georgia accent while giving a little swish of his hips.