One eyebrow winged up so fast Laird was worried Devon would lose it. “I’m not going to put an IV in you, Laird, I’m going to make you a very, very,veryhappy man. Put on the fucking kilt and don’t argue anymore.”
Yeah, it was a quick slide from excited to irritated with his hormonal lover, so he just went with putting on the kilt.
It seemed the safest thing to do.
“Do you want the whole deal, or just the?—”
“You can skip the socks and the man purse. Just the kilt. Make it snappy.”
Laird chuckled, heading to the closet to pull out the garment bag with the kilt. It was wool, and had cost the earth, so he protected it from moths and such.
He pulled it out, laying it on the bed, then hung the rest back up before he started to strip off the sweater and jeans he wore.
The kilt required nothing else.
Devon watched him with eyes like a hawk’s, gaze dragging over his skin. True to his word, Devon didn’t start snapping pictures right away—maybe one when his shirt was off, but none in his skivvies.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Devon; he didn’t trust the world who had hacking capabilities and that sort of thing.
Of course, it wasn’t like lots of people hadn’t seen him naked. He went to the gym, he had a locker room at the fire department. He’d been buck naked before in front of other folks.
He’d never actually felt quite so naked with Devon looking at him the way that he was looking at him before.
“It’s a little weird getting naked while you’re fully dressed,” Laird pointed out.
Devon shrugged, stripped off his shirt, and grinned at him, his head wiggling on his neck. “Ta-da!”
“You’re such a nerd, baby.”
“No, but I tell you what, this is fun. I might have to buy you more kilts, like days of the week kilts.”
“Days of the week kilts?” Now that was an idea whosetime had gone and gone. It hadn’t even come and gone, it was just gone.
“You know it. Like a purple tartan on Monday, a blue tartan on Tuesday, a green tartan on Wednesday. Maybe I’ll get you a leather one for Fridays.”
“Listen, you’ve been hanging out with Raven too damn long.” He went for serious, but it wasn’t working. “Besides, I really have two options for plaid. McCallum archaic and modern. Utilikilts I can do in any color.”
Laird lined up the kilt, pleats in back, apron flat in the front. He buckled the inner strap on his left hipbone, then settled it in place to buckle the two straps on the right. Easy peasy.
His first kilt had been an archaic style, which he’d had to pleat out on the bed and sort of…lie down on.
“You want the belt, baby? It’s very studly.” The kilt belt was a wide leather thing with a big silver buckle.
Devon was staring at him, lips parted, phone held in his hand.
Just staring.
“Have you had a stroke?”
“Just stand there and look pretty. No comments from the peanut gallery are necessary. Just stand there and be hot, would you?”
Laird chuckled and then posed, sucking his belly in.
That actually made Devon moan. This was fun.
“I totally think I need the belt. The belt makes the outfit.” He went to dig for the belt, making sure that he was well bent over even though he didn’t have to be, and that his legs were just the slightest bit parted.
He heard Devon shoot a couple of pictures. And then he absolutely heard the unzip of Devon’s pants. Score.
