Special "kink" Drabble #2
He wouldn't call it fretting, but he was definitely getting frustrated. Already fifteen minutes past the time the girl was supposed to show, Zechs thought again of leaving. If it hadn't been for Treize's personal request he escort the woman, the count would have already been at the club exchanging barbs with Noin and others from their class.
Biting back the exasperated sigh, he scanned the sparse library study room and wondered why here, of all places, Treize had set up the rendezvous. He tugged at the short-waist dress uniform and smoothed the contrasting skintight white breeches. There was a spot on the toe of his boot. Zechs pulled the armless wooden chair out from under the table, his handkerchief already in hand.
The thigh-length, highly polished black leather was his favorite part of the uniform. Custom made, his boots fit snug, tooled in soft suppleness, and polished daily to a glossy shine. His hair fell forward as he rubbed lightly on the slight smudge marring the perfect surface. So focused on his task, it wasn't until the voice spoke that he realized an extra set of shoes was in his line of sight.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet me," the soft cultured tones punctuated the silence.
The shoes, if they could be called that, were flimsy open toed sandals, a single strap over nylon covered feet, a thin band wrapped about delicate ankles, its heels pencil thin an at least four inches in length. Zechs noted the deep burgundy color on the nails before his eyes traveled upward, seeing trim athletic calves, shapely knees and slender but well-muscled thighs. The dress ended at the crotch, thin-string black fringe dangled over tan colored hose, teasingly hiding what lay beneath. The barest hint of panties peeked from between the tassels where legs and body met.
"Treize," Zechs whispered, raising his eyes to see his commander posed unconcerned.
Burgundy lace tipped in black stretched taunt over muscle, the suggestion of flesh teased between the filigree. Spaghetti thin, satin straps tugged tight up over shoulders, crossing at the back of the neck. His fingers twitched, his mouth ran dry, wanting to see how the fabric crisscrossed over the smooth back. The faintest brush of makeup touched the man's perfect face, highlighting the cinnamon tones in his skin and hair.
A step closer, and Treize's hand cupped the back of the boot still planted on the chair, just above the ankle. Leaning close, his lips almost caressing the other's, he breathed, "Have I ever told you how I love seeing you in these?" His tongue darted out, touching Zech's lower lip and retreated. "Do you know how hard I get, picturing you only wearing boots?" His hand traveled upward, squeezing calf, and tickling thigh through the material.
Zech reached for him then, his hands sliding down the silky lace, palming each cheek. "There's only one way to find out," he drawled, instantly grateful for not being impulsive. "If you're man enough."
His answer a hearty laugh even as lips collided.