Baseball RPS: Cotton Candy Colored Lip Gloss
Title: Cotton Candy Colored Lip Gloss
Fandom: Baseball RPS
Pairing: Derek Jeter/Alex Rodriguez
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~3,000
Summary: Alex gets into some trouble. Derek helps him out.
Disclaimer: This is purely fictional! And just for fun! No harm intended!
Note: I think the word "warning" is too strong, but I did feel that I should mention there's ladies lingerie involved. And, you know, handcuffs. *g*
Cotton Candy Colored Lip Gloss
By Lenore
Another three-city road trip, another night in Kansas City, and Derek decides to call it an early evening. He's not as young as he used to be, and Kansas City hasn't gotten any more exciting since the last time he was here. He's just turned out the light when the phone rings. He stares up at the ceiling, thinking, hoping that maybe the person on the other end of the line will give up. They don't, and Derek yanks up the receiver.
"Yeah?"
"Jeet?" It's soft and throaty, familiar, a voice that's meant for the middle of the night.
Derek sighs. "What is it, Alex?"
"Can you come over? Please? I really need you."
Derek's jaw tightens, but so do the muscles in his belly, because Alex has a lot of nerve making a booty call, and Derek can't help wondering if Alex is naked.
"I'm not one of your groupies," Derek snaps.
"No, no, D, it's not like that. It's-- I'm in trouble, okay? Please?"
Derek rolls his eyes, because Alex is such a drama queen.
Nonetheless he asks, "What's your room number?"
"1217." Alex pauses. "At the Four Seasons."
Not the team hotel, and it's not hard to guess why. If Alex had any sense at all, he would have learned his lesson after that mess with the stripper in Toronto, but sense has never been Alex's strong suit.
"You're going to have to get security to let you in," Alex adds.
Derek shakes his head. "I should just leave your ass hanging."
"D," Alex says desperately.
"Yeah, yeah."
Derek flops out of bed, grabs up his jeans, finds a T-shirt in the dresser. Alex is lucky that the Four Seasons is only a block away, or Derek would seriously consider bailing on this fool's errand.
At the front desk, he asks for the manager, flashes his dimples, and makes up some bullshit story about doing a favor for Alex.
"He's stuck at this charity event, and he forgot his wallet in his room with his card key in it. I know it's asking a lot." He ducks his head and smiles.
That gets them every time, and he walks away with a spare key to Alex's room. He goes up in the elevator and lets himself inside.
The door snicks closed behind him, and a hopeful voice drifts out from the bedroom, "Derek?"
Derek heads that way and lurches to a stop in the doorway. "Okay. What the hell have you done now?" he says, when he can actually speak.
Alex is lying in the middle of a fluffy white expanse of bed, handcuffed to the headboard. As if that isn't enough, he's also dressed up in women's lingerie, a black chemise with spaghetti straps. His mouth is shiny and wet and pink, even more so than usual, and the words Alex is wearing lip gloss float surreally through Derek's head.
"She said it would be hot." Alex has the decency to sound sheepish, at least. "Then she took my wallet and split."
"Who?"
"This girl Candi. Just somebody I met at--"
Alex stops abruptly, and no doubt the next words out of his mouth were going to be "a strip club." Derek thinks it's official; Alex doesn't have the sense God gave him.
He puts his hands on his hips. "Your taste in women really, really sucks, you know that?"
Alex pulls at the cuffs, rattling the headboard. "Just get me out of here, okay?"
"Do I look like a locksmith? Why'd you call me for this job anyway?"
"Who else would I call?" There's a liquid softness in his eyes, and he's looking at Derek like he's the only thing in the world.
Derek has seen this look before, of course. Alex can be a manipulative bastard. But it works, as it always does. Derek sits down on the bed, leans in to check out the lock. It's hard to pay really good attention when Alex is sitting there in women's frillery. Derek likes to think he has as much imagination as the next person, but it never once occurred to him to wonder what Alex would look like in lingerie and makeup. If he had ever tried to picture it, no doubt he would have laughed his ass off. Yet here Alex is laid out in front of him in this little black number, and it's strangely not ridiculous. Against all odds, Alex manages to look more masculine in the getup. The delicate straps emphasize his broad shoulders. The plunging neckline shows off his powerful chest. The hem hits just above Alex's knee, making his long legs seem that much longer.
Derek finally gives up on the handcuffs. They're the real thing, not a toy with a handy little button to push to get them off.
"I don't know what you expect me to do about this."
"Bolt cutters?" Alex says hopefully.
"At this time of night?" Derek says in exasperation. "Do you know what a pain in the ass that's going to be to find?"
"Please, Jeet." Alex sounds desperate, like he'd do anything to get out of this mess.
And the thing is: Derek is only human.
He pushes up the chemise and strokes Alex's bare thigh. "So what's in it for me?"
Alex lets his legs fall open, beautifully slutty as always. "Anything you want."
"Sloppy seconds," Derek scoffs. "I think I can do better than that." He doesn't stop touching, though.
"You're never second," Alex says softly.
Derek has been hard pretty much from the first moment he saw Alex handcuffed to the bed, and this makes him even harder. He flips up the hem of the chemise and discovers that Alex is wearing panties. They're black like the chemise, wispy and boy-cut, which makes Derek smile at the irony. He traces the lace-covered edge.
"How does it feel wearing those?"
"A little funny." Derek strokes Alex's hip through the silk, and Alex's voice cracks, "Okay, hot, too."
Definitely hot, and Derek leans down to kiss the insides of Alex's thighs.
"Derek," Alex moans throatily.
Derek presses his face against the panties, breathes Alex in. He smells so good, all male and wanting. The fabric is damp, and Derek can feel Alex's cock getting harder against his cheek. He presses kisses to Alex's balls, mouths them through the silk. Alex's thighs tremble, and he pulls frantically at the handcuffs, trying to reach for Derek.
Derek stretches up Alex's body, takes his wrists in his hands. "Don't." There are already marks on Alex's skin, and Derek rubs at them gently with his thumbs.
They're so close together now that their cheeks brush. Alex watches Derek intently, and Derek can't help staring at his mouth. He has a whole long history of adoring that mouth, jerking off to thoughts of it, and it's even more obscenely pretty now, glistening with cotton candy colored lip gloss. He draws his thumb across it, feels Alex's breath in warm puffs against his hand. They've fucked in the years since Alex messed up what they had, but they haven't kissed, because Derek is that much of a romantic at least, and he needs to remember that Alex can't be trusted. Kissing Alex has the tendency to make him forget things.
Alex parts his lips to say something, but then seems to think better of it. His softly open mouth looks like an invitation. Derek is supposed to remember, and maybe that's why he's never been able to cut Alex out of his life, not permanently, not really. He remembers all too well how Alex tastes, how he feels, like no one else.
He takes Alex's face in his hands and kisses him. Alex's lips are firm, warm. The gloss is slick and tastes slightly of coconuts. Derek licks his way into Alex's mouth, and then he can taste Alex, which is so much better than anything else. Alex murmurs "mmm" and strokes his tongue against Derek's. Derek stretches out on top of Alex, resting his weight on him, pressing Alex into the mattress.
He would never say he regrets those times they've fucked since it all went to hell, because Derek is as much his body as his heart or his mind, and his body wants Alex, demands to have him. But God, he's missed kissing Alex. It's the one time when Alex is actually patient, every touch of his mouth lazy and sweet and intimate, because Alex loves kissing, and he's damned good at it. Derek pushes his hips against Alex's, and he could almost stay like this, just kissing for the rest of the night.
Almost.
He lets go reluctantly and stands up. Alex makes a desperate noise of protest. Derek starts to take his clothes off, and Alex's eyes turn bright with interest. Derek shucks his T-shirt and jeans and underwear, and Alex licks his lips, looking like he just stepped out of porn. Derek strokes his cock, taking a moment to enjoy what a pretty picture Alex makes. He opens up the nightstand and finds the lube and condoms as expected. In some ways at least, Alex is perfectly predictable.
Derek scoots back onto the bed, kneeling between Alex's legs, and Alex spreads them even wider for him. Derek wants to kiss him everywhere, so he does, all over his belly and along the edge of the panties and the tip of his cock where it's poking out of the underwear. Alex alternates between making hot little noises and pleading. Oh God, please, suck me, Derek. I want you so bad. Please suck my dick. Derek pushes the panties over Alex's hips and licks teasingly the whole length of Alex's cock. Alex whimpers, and Derek slides the panties down his legs, slowly, caressing Alex's skin with the silk as he goes. It seems to turn Alex on as much as it does Derek, Alex's cock lying flat against his belly, making a wet mess on his skin. Derek grins up at him and wraps his hand around the base of Alex's cock and licks at the slit. Alex moans, and it's as if Derek can taste that, too.
He knows everything Alex likes, every hot button, every erotic tripwire, and he gives it everything he has, working slick fingers into Alex's body while he goes down on him. Alex starts pulling at the handcuffs again, and Derek can feel the muscles in his belly quivering. He doesn't want Alex to come, not yet, and he sits back on his heels. Alex curses him hotly in Spanish, and Derek grins cheekily and rolls on a condom.
Alex nods emphatically, as if Derek has asked him a question. "Yes. Please. Please."
Derek pushes the chemise up until it's bunched beneath Alex's armpits. He kisses Alex's belly and chest, thumbs his nipples. Alex is chanting Derek's name, thrashing his head on the pillow, and Derek has finally reached the point where he can't take any more teasing, either. He pulls Alex's legs over his shoulders and pushes inside him in one smooth motion. Alex makes a startled noise, like maybe he hasn't done this since the last time they were together. Derek likes to think that, at least. He goes still to give Alex time to adjust, leans up and kisses him.
"Please, please," Alex begs.
So Derek starts to move, and they go on kissing, dirty, sloppy kisses. Alex looks amazing under him, handcuffed and spread out just for him. He presses his face against Alex's neck, kissing where he can feel the pulse against his lips. He works his hand between their bodies and strokes Alex's cock. He thrusts deeper, and when he finds the sweet spot, Alex goes crazy, bucking up and pulling against the handcuffs.
"Harder, harder, Derek, please! Fuck me harder!"
Please is Alex's favorite word when he's getting fucked, and Derek loves the way it sounds. He thrusts deeper, faster, to make Alex say it some more.
Alex's eyes fly open wide, and his mouth is a soft, round "oh" of pleasure. Derek feels Alex's muscles start to tighten around him. He jacks Alex's cock harder, and Alex's come spills over his fist. Derek thrusts a few more times, squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face against Alex's neck. He comes, harder than he has since…well, the last time he fucked Alex.
He slumps forward, and when the post-orgasmic fog clears, everything is Alex, the smell of him, feel of him, filling Derek's senses. Derek lifts his head and strokes Alex's cheek and kisses him. Alex's face is so bright with happiness it almost hurts to look at, and his grin is big and goofy. He always gets giddy after sex, and any moment now, Derek knows that Alex is going to blurt it out. I love you. And that's like a punch to the gut, bringing back memories of that night when Alex drove all the way across the state of Florida to explain, and that was all he could say, over and over again, as Derek kept asking, why?
"I'm going to get something to clean up with," he mumbles, pulling out of Alex, scrambling up from the bed, ditching the condom in the trashcan.
He shuts the bathroom door behind him, swipes a washcloth over his belly, throws water on his face. He notices a hairpin on the sink, half hidden by the soap dish, suspiciously convenient. Anger flashes through him as he imagines Alex setting this whole thing up. But the notion quickly passes. Alex can be devious in his own way, but he's not this much of a planner.
Derek goes back out to the bedroom, holds up the hairpin. "Looks like you're in luck."
He bends over Alex, tinkering with the lock, and Alex stares up at him, soft-eyed and yielding, the way he always looks after sex. He's a gorgeous wreck, the chemise rucked up under his arms, the lip gloss smeared on his mouth. His legs are still spread, his thighs glistening like an invitation. There's a part of Derek that wants to live inside this moment forever, and there's another part of him that thinks, You have got to be fucking kidding me.
There's a sharp click, and the handcuffs finally open.
Alex sits up, rubbing his wrists. "Thanks, man." He grins. "You're going to have to tell me sometime how you got so good at picking locks."
Derek grabs up his jeans, pulls them on. "You could use a shower."
He turns his head, so he doesn't have to see the look on Alex's face.
There's a hard moment of silence, and then Alex says, "Yeah. I guess I could."
He heads off to the bathroom, and Derek throws on his T-shirt. There's nothing left to do but go. So there's really no explaining why he sits down on the end of the bed and waits. He listens to the shower running, hears it stop. He could still leave. If he wanted to.
After a few moments, Alex comes out. He stops in his tracks, staring, his mouth open, as if Derek is the last thing he expects. He's naked, not even a towel, and Derek stares back. Water glistens on Alex's skin, and his nipples harden in the chill from the air conditioner, or maybe because of the way Derek is looking at him.
"I was thinking." Derek fiddles with the bedspread. "She might come back."
Alex goes still for a moment, and then he nods, very slowly, carefully. "I should probably stay somewhere else tonight."
"You probably should," Derek says.
It feels like jumping off a building.
Alex nods again and starts to get dressed. He pulls underwear out of a dresser drawer, and Derek almost tells him not to bother, but he somehow manages to restrain himself.
Alex shrugs into a T-shirt and turns around, ready to go.
Derek gets up, goes over to him. "It's just to sleep," he warns. "I'm an old man. I need my rest."
Alex nods amenably, even as he reaching out to cup Derek's cheek, even as he's laying a kiss on him that could turn whole forests to piles of ash. When he pulls away, he's grinning. "Okay. Let's go get some sleep."
Derek cuffs him on the back of the head, and Alex grins harder.
They head down the hall to the elevator, drifting into each other, brushing elbows, bumping shoulders. That's the way it's always been between them, even during the worst of the bad times, like they just can't keep out of each other's orbits. In the elevator, they're careful to stand apart, camera shy. Outside, the night has gotten cooler, and they stroll the block back to the team's hotel, and go up to Derek's room.
At the door, Derek puts a hand on Alex's shoulder as leans in to swipe the card key, whispering in his ear, "If I buy you some lip gloss, would you wear it for me sometime?"
Alex's mouth curves into a brilliant, filthy smile. He doesn't say anything, but then, he doesn't have to. I'll do anything for you is written all over his face.
Derek opens the door and pushes Alex inside. It's a good thing it's a night game tomorrow.
Fandom: Baseball RPS
Pairing: Derek Jeter/Alex Rodriguez
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~3,000
Summary: Alex gets into some trouble. Derek helps him out.
Disclaimer: This is purely fictional! And just for fun! No harm intended!
Note: I think the word "warning" is too strong, but I did feel that I should mention there's ladies lingerie involved. And, you know, handcuffs. *g*
Cotton Candy Colored Lip Gloss
By Lenore
Another three-city road trip, another night in Kansas City, and Derek decides to call it an early evening. He's not as young as he used to be, and Kansas City hasn't gotten any more exciting since the last time he was here. He's just turned out the light when the phone rings. He stares up at the ceiling, thinking, hoping that maybe the person on the other end of the line will give up. They don't, and Derek yanks up the receiver.
"Yeah?"
"Jeet?" It's soft and throaty, familiar, a voice that's meant for the middle of the night.
Derek sighs. "What is it, Alex?"
"Can you come over? Please? I really need you."
Derek's jaw tightens, but so do the muscles in his belly, because Alex has a lot of nerve making a booty call, and Derek can't help wondering if Alex is naked.
"I'm not one of your groupies," Derek snaps.
"No, no, D, it's not like that. It's-- I'm in trouble, okay? Please?"
Derek rolls his eyes, because Alex is such a drama queen.
Nonetheless he asks, "What's your room number?"
"1217." Alex pauses. "At the Four Seasons."
Not the team hotel, and it's not hard to guess why. If Alex had any sense at all, he would have learned his lesson after that mess with the stripper in Toronto, but sense has never been Alex's strong suit.
"You're going to have to get security to let you in," Alex adds.
Derek shakes his head. "I should just leave your ass hanging."
"D," Alex says desperately.
"Yeah, yeah."
Derek flops out of bed, grabs up his jeans, finds a T-shirt in the dresser. Alex is lucky that the Four Seasons is only a block away, or Derek would seriously consider bailing on this fool's errand.
At the front desk, he asks for the manager, flashes his dimples, and makes up some bullshit story about doing a favor for Alex.
"He's stuck at this charity event, and he forgot his wallet in his room with his card key in it. I know it's asking a lot." He ducks his head and smiles.
That gets them every time, and he walks away with a spare key to Alex's room. He goes up in the elevator and lets himself inside.
The door snicks closed behind him, and a hopeful voice drifts out from the bedroom, "Derek?"
Derek heads that way and lurches to a stop in the doorway. "Okay. What the hell have you done now?" he says, when he can actually speak.
Alex is lying in the middle of a fluffy white expanse of bed, handcuffed to the headboard. As if that isn't enough, he's also dressed up in women's lingerie, a black chemise with spaghetti straps. His mouth is shiny and wet and pink, even more so than usual, and the words Alex is wearing lip gloss float surreally through Derek's head.
"She said it would be hot." Alex has the decency to sound sheepish, at least. "Then she took my wallet and split."
"Who?"
"This girl Candi. Just somebody I met at--"
Alex stops abruptly, and no doubt the next words out of his mouth were going to be "a strip club." Derek thinks it's official; Alex doesn't have the sense God gave him.
He puts his hands on his hips. "Your taste in women really, really sucks, you know that?"
Alex pulls at the cuffs, rattling the headboard. "Just get me out of here, okay?"
"Do I look like a locksmith? Why'd you call me for this job anyway?"
"Who else would I call?" There's a liquid softness in his eyes, and he's looking at Derek like he's the only thing in the world.
Derek has seen this look before, of course. Alex can be a manipulative bastard. But it works, as it always does. Derek sits down on the bed, leans in to check out the lock. It's hard to pay really good attention when Alex is sitting there in women's frillery. Derek likes to think he has as much imagination as the next person, but it never once occurred to him to wonder what Alex would look like in lingerie and makeup. If he had ever tried to picture it, no doubt he would have laughed his ass off. Yet here Alex is laid out in front of him in this little black number, and it's strangely not ridiculous. Against all odds, Alex manages to look more masculine in the getup. The delicate straps emphasize his broad shoulders. The plunging neckline shows off his powerful chest. The hem hits just above Alex's knee, making his long legs seem that much longer.
Derek finally gives up on the handcuffs. They're the real thing, not a toy with a handy little button to push to get them off.
"I don't know what you expect me to do about this."
"Bolt cutters?" Alex says hopefully.
"At this time of night?" Derek says in exasperation. "Do you know what a pain in the ass that's going to be to find?"
"Please, Jeet." Alex sounds desperate, like he'd do anything to get out of this mess.
And the thing is: Derek is only human.
He pushes up the chemise and strokes Alex's bare thigh. "So what's in it for me?"
Alex lets his legs fall open, beautifully slutty as always. "Anything you want."
"Sloppy seconds," Derek scoffs. "I think I can do better than that." He doesn't stop touching, though.
"You're never second," Alex says softly.
Derek has been hard pretty much from the first moment he saw Alex handcuffed to the bed, and this makes him even harder. He flips up the hem of the chemise and discovers that Alex is wearing panties. They're black like the chemise, wispy and boy-cut, which makes Derek smile at the irony. He traces the lace-covered edge.
"How does it feel wearing those?"
"A little funny." Derek strokes Alex's hip through the silk, and Alex's voice cracks, "Okay, hot, too."
Definitely hot, and Derek leans down to kiss the insides of Alex's thighs.
"Derek," Alex moans throatily.
Derek presses his face against the panties, breathes Alex in. He smells so good, all male and wanting. The fabric is damp, and Derek can feel Alex's cock getting harder against his cheek. He presses kisses to Alex's balls, mouths them through the silk. Alex's thighs tremble, and he pulls frantically at the handcuffs, trying to reach for Derek.
Derek stretches up Alex's body, takes his wrists in his hands. "Don't." There are already marks on Alex's skin, and Derek rubs at them gently with his thumbs.
They're so close together now that their cheeks brush. Alex watches Derek intently, and Derek can't help staring at his mouth. He has a whole long history of adoring that mouth, jerking off to thoughts of it, and it's even more obscenely pretty now, glistening with cotton candy colored lip gloss. He draws his thumb across it, feels Alex's breath in warm puffs against his hand. They've fucked in the years since Alex messed up what they had, but they haven't kissed, because Derek is that much of a romantic at least, and he needs to remember that Alex can't be trusted. Kissing Alex has the tendency to make him forget things.
Alex parts his lips to say something, but then seems to think better of it. His softly open mouth looks like an invitation. Derek is supposed to remember, and maybe that's why he's never been able to cut Alex out of his life, not permanently, not really. He remembers all too well how Alex tastes, how he feels, like no one else.
He takes Alex's face in his hands and kisses him. Alex's lips are firm, warm. The gloss is slick and tastes slightly of coconuts. Derek licks his way into Alex's mouth, and then he can taste Alex, which is so much better than anything else. Alex murmurs "mmm" and strokes his tongue against Derek's. Derek stretches out on top of Alex, resting his weight on him, pressing Alex into the mattress.
He would never say he regrets those times they've fucked since it all went to hell, because Derek is as much his body as his heart or his mind, and his body wants Alex, demands to have him. But God, he's missed kissing Alex. It's the one time when Alex is actually patient, every touch of his mouth lazy and sweet and intimate, because Alex loves kissing, and he's damned good at it. Derek pushes his hips against Alex's, and he could almost stay like this, just kissing for the rest of the night.
Almost.
He lets go reluctantly and stands up. Alex makes a desperate noise of protest. Derek starts to take his clothes off, and Alex's eyes turn bright with interest. Derek shucks his T-shirt and jeans and underwear, and Alex licks his lips, looking like he just stepped out of porn. Derek strokes his cock, taking a moment to enjoy what a pretty picture Alex makes. He opens up the nightstand and finds the lube and condoms as expected. In some ways at least, Alex is perfectly predictable.
Derek scoots back onto the bed, kneeling between Alex's legs, and Alex spreads them even wider for him. Derek wants to kiss him everywhere, so he does, all over his belly and along the edge of the panties and the tip of his cock where it's poking out of the underwear. Alex alternates between making hot little noises and pleading. Oh God, please, suck me, Derek. I want you so bad. Please suck my dick. Derek pushes the panties over Alex's hips and licks teasingly the whole length of Alex's cock. Alex whimpers, and Derek slides the panties down his legs, slowly, caressing Alex's skin with the silk as he goes. It seems to turn Alex on as much as it does Derek, Alex's cock lying flat against his belly, making a wet mess on his skin. Derek grins up at him and wraps his hand around the base of Alex's cock and licks at the slit. Alex moans, and it's as if Derek can taste that, too.
He knows everything Alex likes, every hot button, every erotic tripwire, and he gives it everything he has, working slick fingers into Alex's body while he goes down on him. Alex starts pulling at the handcuffs again, and Derek can feel the muscles in his belly quivering. He doesn't want Alex to come, not yet, and he sits back on his heels. Alex curses him hotly in Spanish, and Derek grins cheekily and rolls on a condom.
Alex nods emphatically, as if Derek has asked him a question. "Yes. Please. Please."
Derek pushes the chemise up until it's bunched beneath Alex's armpits. He kisses Alex's belly and chest, thumbs his nipples. Alex is chanting Derek's name, thrashing his head on the pillow, and Derek has finally reached the point where he can't take any more teasing, either. He pulls Alex's legs over his shoulders and pushes inside him in one smooth motion. Alex makes a startled noise, like maybe he hasn't done this since the last time they were together. Derek likes to think that, at least. He goes still to give Alex time to adjust, leans up and kisses him.
"Please, please," Alex begs.
So Derek starts to move, and they go on kissing, dirty, sloppy kisses. Alex looks amazing under him, handcuffed and spread out just for him. He presses his face against Alex's neck, kissing where he can feel the pulse against his lips. He works his hand between their bodies and strokes Alex's cock. He thrusts deeper, and when he finds the sweet spot, Alex goes crazy, bucking up and pulling against the handcuffs.
"Harder, harder, Derek, please! Fuck me harder!"
Please is Alex's favorite word when he's getting fucked, and Derek loves the way it sounds. He thrusts deeper, faster, to make Alex say it some more.
Alex's eyes fly open wide, and his mouth is a soft, round "oh" of pleasure. Derek feels Alex's muscles start to tighten around him. He jacks Alex's cock harder, and Alex's come spills over his fist. Derek thrusts a few more times, squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face against Alex's neck. He comes, harder than he has since…well, the last time he fucked Alex.
He slumps forward, and when the post-orgasmic fog clears, everything is Alex, the smell of him, feel of him, filling Derek's senses. Derek lifts his head and strokes Alex's cheek and kisses him. Alex's face is so bright with happiness it almost hurts to look at, and his grin is big and goofy. He always gets giddy after sex, and any moment now, Derek knows that Alex is going to blurt it out. I love you. And that's like a punch to the gut, bringing back memories of that night when Alex drove all the way across the state of Florida to explain, and that was all he could say, over and over again, as Derek kept asking, why?
"I'm going to get something to clean up with," he mumbles, pulling out of Alex, scrambling up from the bed, ditching the condom in the trashcan.
He shuts the bathroom door behind him, swipes a washcloth over his belly, throws water on his face. He notices a hairpin on the sink, half hidden by the soap dish, suspiciously convenient. Anger flashes through him as he imagines Alex setting this whole thing up. But the notion quickly passes. Alex can be devious in his own way, but he's not this much of a planner.
Derek goes back out to the bedroom, holds up the hairpin. "Looks like you're in luck."
He bends over Alex, tinkering with the lock, and Alex stares up at him, soft-eyed and yielding, the way he always looks after sex. He's a gorgeous wreck, the chemise rucked up under his arms, the lip gloss smeared on his mouth. His legs are still spread, his thighs glistening like an invitation. There's a part of Derek that wants to live inside this moment forever, and there's another part of him that thinks, You have got to be fucking kidding me.
There's a sharp click, and the handcuffs finally open.
Alex sits up, rubbing his wrists. "Thanks, man." He grins. "You're going to have to tell me sometime how you got so good at picking locks."
Derek grabs up his jeans, pulls them on. "You could use a shower."
He turns his head, so he doesn't have to see the look on Alex's face.
There's a hard moment of silence, and then Alex says, "Yeah. I guess I could."
He heads off to the bathroom, and Derek throws on his T-shirt. There's nothing left to do but go. So there's really no explaining why he sits down on the end of the bed and waits. He listens to the shower running, hears it stop. He could still leave. If he wanted to.
After a few moments, Alex comes out. He stops in his tracks, staring, his mouth open, as if Derek is the last thing he expects. He's naked, not even a towel, and Derek stares back. Water glistens on Alex's skin, and his nipples harden in the chill from the air conditioner, or maybe because of the way Derek is looking at him.
"I was thinking." Derek fiddles with the bedspread. "She might come back."
Alex goes still for a moment, and then he nods, very slowly, carefully. "I should probably stay somewhere else tonight."
"You probably should," Derek says.
It feels like jumping off a building.
Alex nods again and starts to get dressed. He pulls underwear out of a dresser drawer, and Derek almost tells him not to bother, but he somehow manages to restrain himself.
Alex shrugs into a T-shirt and turns around, ready to go.
Derek gets up, goes over to him. "It's just to sleep," he warns. "I'm an old man. I need my rest."
Alex nods amenably, even as he reaching out to cup Derek's cheek, even as he's laying a kiss on him that could turn whole forests to piles of ash. When he pulls away, he's grinning. "Okay. Let's go get some sleep."
Derek cuffs him on the back of the head, and Alex grins harder.
They head down the hall to the elevator, drifting into each other, brushing elbows, bumping shoulders. That's the way it's always been between them, even during the worst of the bad times, like they just can't keep out of each other's orbits. In the elevator, they're careful to stand apart, camera shy. Outside, the night has gotten cooler, and they stroll the block back to the team's hotel, and go up to Derek's room.
At the door, Derek puts a hand on Alex's shoulder as leans in to swipe the card key, whispering in his ear, "If I buy you some lip gloss, would you wear it for me sometime?"
Alex's mouth curves into a brilliant, filthy smile. He doesn't say anything, but then, he doesn't have to. I'll do anything for you is written all over his face.
Derek opens the door and pushes Alex inside. It's a good thing it's a night game tomorrow.