Snappin the Burn

“Are you sure this is really necessary?” Lincoln asked as he stood inside the door to the high-end costume shop I’d dragged him into against his will.

“You agreed to be my subject, so I get to dictate the wardrobe. Maybe you wouldn’t be in this predicament if someone hadn’t felt the need to metaphorically pee all over my feed. So, suck it up, buttercup, you’re mine.”

Lincoln’s eyes widened as he took in my fiendish grin. He shuddered as I grabbed his hand and dragged him toward a display near the back of the store.

“You’re seriously going to make me do this?” he asked, crossing his arms on his chest and looking entirely too displeased with me.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have opened the thirsty floodgates. That way, I wouldn’t be fielding dozens of DMs asking me who the shirtless man in my bed was and if I’d like to share you.

“They want you, handsome, and I want them to know you’re all mine.”

“This doesn’t have to be the answer, though,” Lincoln protested. “We could pose for some cute couple-y shots. You know Tate would take them for us. Taking half-naked shots of me seems a little extreme.

“Wouldn’t that encourage them to flood your DMs more?”

“Oh, you underestimate me,” I purred. “Who said you would be alone in these shots, and who said you’d only be ~half-naked?”

Ignoring the astounded look on my handsome beau’s face, I dug into the selection on the rack in front of me.

I mentally cataloged the way his eyes widened when I paused on a nearly translucent Spiderman costume with a few strategically placed solid panels that would theoretically preserve his modesty.

But this situation didn’t call for modesty.

Lincoln had started this, but I was going to finish it. He should have known that posting a photo on my feed of himself adorably rumpled, with an outrageously sexy case of bedhead, would backfire.

Nobody had focused on my cringey face as I drooled on my pillow. They were more fixated on the abs and the hint of a happy trail that disappeared beneath the sheets.

When one of my followers dropped the hashtag #bulgewatch and started the chaos in my comment section over whether Linc was naked underneath the sheets and if he was cut or uncut, I knew I had to take matters into my own hands.

While I may overshare with Hannah and my new bestie Tatum, no one else was privileged to know what kind of equipment my man was packing. Not that either of them returned the favor.

“Fuck yes!” I exclaimed when my fingers touched the slick material of the last costume on the rack. I pulled out a slightly metallic, skintight bodysuit that would make Linc’s eyes pop on camera.

“Seriously?”

“We’re not going to rehash this, Linc. You agreed, and you know there are no takebacks.

“Now, go take this into the fitting room to make sure it’s too tight around your package, then let’s get back home so I can objectify you and parade you around in front of thousands of gay men who want to steal you from me.”

“Don’t you mean not too tight?”

“You know me better than that.”

Lincoln shook his head but took the hanger, reluctantly walking toward the fitting room at the back of the store and disappearing behind the curtain.

I took my time perusing the racks as I made my way to the back of the shop, fingering the soft material of the selections, seeing if anything else jumped out at me.

While I would have loved to squeeze him into a minuscule loincloth and be the Jane to his Tarzan, I knew my skittish boyfriend’s affinity for superheroes would ensure that he would let me coax him into this nerdy boudoir shoot.

I’d seen some of his other cosplay costumes; this wasn’t much more risqué, but the nearly transparent mesh would leave my legion of Instagram bulge seekers with absolutely no question about their previous inquiries.

Yes, this was probably petty on my part.

Yes, I knew this made Lincoln a little self-conscious to be paraded around on the internet in front of strangers.

And yes, I knew I could go with his PG-rated idea of taking cute pics in the park where we could hold hands and look into each other’s eyes longingly.

Or…we could stick with my plan and make them all jealous.

I hadn’t shown Linc all the DMs gauging the exclusivity of our relationship, and despite a few questionable parties in my early twenties, I did not share.

“You’ve been quiet back here,” I commented as I stepped into the hallway leading to the fitting rooms, glancing under the edge of the curtains to see if I could spot Lincoln’s feet.

Considering that the man hated wearing shoes, it didn’t take me long. “Are you purposely ignoring me?”

“No,” he said quietly, pulling back the curtain slightly to reveal extremely tight spandex covering the smooth contours of his toned biceps.

Hannah’s doctor encouraging her to join a gym had been literally the best decision ever. Not only did she find a hunky new husband, but nepotism allowed Lincoln and me to work out whenever we wanted.

It was all because I wouldn’t let Hannah pay me for babysitting when she wanted to defile more gym equipment with said hunky husband. She should have known better; baby Nate loved hanging out with his favorite gay uncles.

“Looks good from this viewpoint. You going to show me the rest?”

Lincoln dropped the edge of the curtain, reaching around it to grasp my hand and pull me into the small cubicle with him.

To say I was proud of my selection was a fucking understatement. Not one dip or curve on his body was concealed. The costume fit him like a glove.

“Well, this is nice,” I commented, slowly running my fingertips down his chest. “How does it feel?”

“Surprisingly comfortable, but it doesn’t really hide anything.”

Grinning, I stepped forward. Lincoln’s back gently pressed against the wall behind him, his soft breath fanning across my face as I totally invaded his personal space.

“That,” I started, leaning in, my chest lightly brushing against his, “is the whole fucking point.”

Lincoln’s chest heaved as my fingers wandered over him, the tips tracing the defined divots of his newly acquired washboard abs through the soft material that felt more like his skin than a costume.

“You’re going to make me hard if you keep doing that,” he whispered, his gaze nervously darting between my eyes and the curtain behind me.

The store had been practically deserted when we came in, and the young cashier had seemed more concerned with the phone glued to her hand than any potential sales.

“Too late,” I teased, my fingers slowly tracing across the head of his cock, which was well on its way to rising to the occasion. “Seems pretty solid to me.”

“I’m going to make a mess of this costume before we even leave the store if you keep doing that.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” I agreed, stepping back and pulling my cell phone from my pocket.

I swiped over to the camera, quickly switching to portrait mode and changing the light filter settings. It wasn’t my SLR, but it would get the job done. “Lean back, hands flat, and place your right foot on the wall behind you.”

“Parker…,” he warned, but he obeyed my directions, spreading his hands wide against the wall behind him and bending his knee to rest his foot on the surface.

The angle of his leg cast a shadow across his waist, partially camouflaging his erection beneath the red material.

“Hold still.” Stepping forward, I reached up to adjust the neckline of his costume, turned the seams to the backs of his arms, and smoothed the slightly bunched material near his shoulders. “One more thing…”

Lincoln’s eyes widened as my palms cupped his pecs.

My fingers slowly traced lower before I stopped, running the tips of my fingers over the slightly raised indentations of his covered nipples. Knowing it drove him a little wild, I quickly pinched the puckered skin.

His neck arched as his head softly thumped the wall behind it. “Fuck, Park. You’re killing me here,” he panted, his fingers flexing against the surface behind him as his cock visibly thickened beneath the scant clothing.

“Payback is a bitch, isn’t it?” I teased, taking a few steps back and lifting my camera to frame the enticing scene before me on the screen. “Tilt your head down but look back at me through your lashes. Try to look broody.”

Lincoln reluctantly followed my directions, directing a smoldering gaze at me from beneath his obnoxiously long lashes.

“It really is unfair how pretty you are.” It was one of the reasons I initially hadn’t wanted to date him. The pretty boys I’d been with during my slut era were too arrogant and terrible tops.

Thankfully, Lincoln’s nerdy side kept him from being a total narcissistic ass. But boy was his ass a sight to behold. Round and firm and…

“Focus, Parker. Stop daydreaming and get these pictures so we can go home. I was promised a blow job if I cooperated, and as you can see, I’m primed and ready.”

“Who said we need to be home for that to happen?”

Lincoln shifted, almost dropping his pose, but he was right. I’d dragged him this far into it. I needed to take some pictures before I defiled my hot Spiderman. I was dying to get my mouth on his Peter…Parker.

“Stay right where you are,” I urged.

He resumed his position.

“Smolder more. Pretend you’re irritated with me and want to angry bang.”

“Don’t need to pretend for that,” he threatened, his voice taking on that smoky quality he used when he was horny. I fucking loved it.

I’d never thought that being with the same guy monogamously would be something I’d want, but after meeting Lincoln, I didn’t want anyone else.

“Now turn around, put your hands on the wall at chest level, and look back at me over your shoulder.”

His intense look never faltered as I moved from side to side, carefully centering Linc on my phone’s screen.

The tension between us finally snapped, and he grabbed my hand, pulling me roughly into his chest.

“Stop teasing me, Parker. I’m about to lose it.”