A Tuxedo Thing
“You’re sure I have to go?” Peter’s voice reminded Rose of how her younger brother John sounded when told he had to eat his vegetables, sulky as only a four year-old could be. Peter wouldn’t be amused by the comparison, and she suppressed a smile as she turned her focus to Peter’s reflection in the mirror as he walked through the doorway.
She stifled a gasp as he entered the room. She’d had a fair idea of how he would look in a tuxedo-she may, in fact, have fantasized about it a few (dozen) times-but the reality was just...well. Rose turned to fully admire the view.
Despite his propensity for wearing ill-fitting clothes for work, he’d certainly not scrimped on the formalwear. Her heart fluttered at the thought of the extra care and effort he must have exerted on her behalf, at her request. The heavy black trousers flattered his lean form, the satin stripe drawing the eyes down his long legs. His black shoes were immaculate, and it was with some effort that she slowly dragged her eyes back up his body. His crisp shirt was a snowy white, the bands of the matching white braces causing the fabric to cling just enough to suggest the toned chest underneath; she flushed and unconsciously licked her lips, thoughts of her hands dancing over the skin underneath that shirt flashing through her mind.
“We could stay in, you know....” Rose’s eyes flashed to his, startled-was he reading her mind? Then again, he could just be being Peter; as far as she could tell, he was always a half-second away from talking her out of her knickers. Not that she minded.
He took a step towards her; his voice had dropped to a seductive tone, and she forced herself to hold his gaze. The white shirt, as always, emphasized the fairness of his skin and the contrast of his dark brown eyes and hair. His eyes were boring into her, promising all sorts of delightful distractions if she’d agree to his suggestion, and she found herself taking a step towards him. They did-theoretically-have time for a quick shag. But she found she wanted to take her time undressing him, being undressed by him; she’d never seen him in a tuxedo, and she wanted to savour the feeling of taking it off of him.
“We could...” She watched the corner of his mouth curve slowly upwards, and she took another step towards him, placing her hands on his chest and raising herself onto her tiptoes so she could lean in. He leaned forward, fully prepared to give her a kiss, but she ducked her head around so she could whisper in his ear, enjoying herself immensely. “But I promise to reward you if you wait until after dinner.”
She leaned back, slowly drawing her hands down to his waist, before removing them and turning around once more to face the mirror.
His gaze met hers in their reflection, and she both saw and felt him move to stand right behind her. His hands rested on her waist and he leaned forward to whisper his answer, pulling her back just far enough to have her body press into his, her bum pushing against his groin.
“Promise?”
His eyes hadn’t left hers, and she felt herself flush. His gaze was doing all sorts of things to her, and she felt herself sorely tempted to skip the dinner they were expected to attend. She was about to capitulate when she saw the flash of triumph in his eyes.
That simply wouldn’t do.
“I promise. No more distracting me, though. The sooner we get over there, the sooner we can leave.”
She felt her mouth quirk as she noted the disappointment on Peter’s face. She twisted her body, leaning up to give him a quick peck on the lips before once more facing the mirror to finish putting on her jewellery.
“You look lovely,” Peter said, softly, his gaze lingering over her body in the mirror.
Lifting her necklace to set it around her neck, she regarded her reflection. The black dress was new, purchased on a whim after she’d seen it in a shop window. The dark silk was embroidered with gold along the hem of the fashionable tea-length skirt and the neckline of the dress, and was held up with delicate straps which sat just at the edges of her shoulders. It was simple and elegant-and she’d thought it would appeal to Peter: the teasing flounce of the skirt, the tempting wink of the gold as it wove in and out of the silk, the tactile lushness of the fabric. She’d bought it with no clear idea of when or where she would wear it, with just the idea that it might, someday, please Peter. She was glad that it seemed to have achieved its purpose.
“Thank you,” she said warmly. Her lips curved as she added, “Do you like the dress?”
“I love the dress,” said Peter, looking down the top of it with apparent appreciation.
“Do you know why I bought this dress?”
“Tell me.”
“To wear to this dinner-the one we have to go to. Remember that?”
“Of course I do,” He gently took the ends of the necklace from her fingers, and her eyes closed involuntarily as she felt him brush the back of her neck. His lips followed his fingers, light kisses trailing along the line of the fine chain. She loved it when he didn’t play fair.
The necklace secure, she felt Peter slide his hands to the bare skin of her shoulders and lean forward. “You never let me have any fun.” His breath tickled her ear, and she felt herself grow warmer. She opened her eyes and saw Peter’s gaze still steady on her. Her body flashed with heat, desire warring with what she knew was expected of her that evening. She bit her lip, focusing-this was a Vitex dinner and she was expected to attend, complete with plus one.
Rose turned, once more, and lightly draped her arms around his waist. The triumphant look was back, and she again rose to the challenge. “I’m a terrible, terrible woman. I keep you chained in my flat, no food, no light, no shagging. How you cope, I’ll never know.” She smiled, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, before growing serious. “Peter, we promised to be there. Consider it to be throwing some karma into the air. You’ll be repaid in kind.”
He sighed, and leaned his head forward so his forehead met hers. “I hate things like this.”
“It’s not like I particularly love them, you know. They’re a part of being a Tyler, though.”
“So it would seem.”
“They’re not that bad. You’ll come out the other side alive, I promise.”
“It’s getting to the other side that worries me.” He brushed a soft kiss over her forehead before raising his head and stepping to the side. Looking in the mirror, he began to fiddle with his tie.
Rose watched his fingers dance across the heavy satin of the tie; as he fidgeted, she couldn’t tell if he was uncomfortable or just nervous. “You know, there is one thing I rather like.”
“And what’s that?”
“You. In a tux. You look good enough to eat.” She reached over and gently held his wrists. “Keep playing with that, though, and you’re going to undo it.” He shifted his glance to meet hers, patient amusement evident in his warm gaze. A thought occurred to her. “Where’d you learn to tie a bowtie, anyway? I’d wanted to do that.”
“My gran.” He shook his hands free, taking one last glance in the mirror over her shoulder before returning his eyes to hers. He gave her one of the slow, sultry smiles he so enjoyed unleashing in her direction, and she felt her breath catch in response. Holding her gaze, he reached up, found the end of his tie, and slowly pulled it undone. “Shame it comes undone so easily, though. I’ll just have to have someone tie it for me.”
“Darn the luck. S’pose I’ll have to help out.” She raised herself on to her toes to get a better view of the tie. She had just set to work on it, straightening the fabric, when Peter captured her hands, stopping her.
“I think I may have a way to help with that.” He guided her over to the dresser, clearing a space on the surface before lifting her so she was sitting in front of him. Her skirt had hiked up, and he moved to stand between her legs; she felt her body react, and saw Peter’s eyes darken in response.
“Dinner, Peter,” she said softly as he leaned down to kiss her.
“I know,” he said resignedly, straightening after brushing his lips across hers. She bit her lip, focusing on the task at hand as she once more worked to tie the fabric into a reasonable approximation of a bow tie.
Peter’s hands were resting at her waist, his thumbs lightly brushing circles against her dress and distracting her. She was having a hard time getting the fabric to do what she wanted and had to start over several times. Peter’s eyes would flutter shut ever time she reached up to pull the knot undone, and she continued to fight the urge to lean up and kiss him, to trace her lips across the smooth, soft skin of his clean-shaven jaw. As she’d smooth the fabric down to start over, he’d reopen his eyes, watching her intently as she focused on the spot below his jaw.
They were going to be late if she couldn’t finish with his tie. She bit her tongue in concentration, forcing herself to get it right on the fourth try. She could feel Peter looking down at her, his gaze caressing her face as she worked, and she blushed under his scrutiny. She finally succeeded, tightening the bow with a flourish, and gave the tie a quick tweak to make sure it was centred before leaning up and planting a quick kiss on his lips. “There you go-all done.”
He pulled her to him, sliding her off the dresser, before leaning down to give her a lingering kiss in return. “Thank you,” he whispered as he pulled away. His eyes were dark, and she had no doubt he would gladly make love to her right then, if she asked it. She stared up at him, her mind racing ahead to the happy thoughts of undressing him later that night. Of sliding her hands up, over his shoulders, pushing the heavy fabric of the jacket away...running her hands along the line of the braces, helping him to slide out of them...slowly unbuttoning his shirt, watching him remove the cufflinks...ridding him of his vest to reveal the skin underneath...
Later. After dinner. Or, maybe now...
She swallowed, and felt her resolve to attend the dinner weakening. He took a step back, then another; when there were a few feet in between them, he once again spoke. “Best get finished. The sooner we get over there, the sooner we can leave.” He winked at her, and walked out of the room.
Rose stood there, slightly shocked and definitely aroused, her dress rumpled from the teasing. As she hastily started searching for her shoes and purse, she called after him “Not fair!” She couldn’t help but grin as she was rewarded with the sound of his low chuckle from down the hall.
“Peter Carlisle,” she murmured to herself as she pulled her heels on. “I hope you know this means war.”
She suspected that he did.
She suspected that he was actually looking forward to it.
Truth be told, so was she.