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The thing is that Buck has a suit. It’s in the back of his closet, carefully slotted into a garment bag so as to keep it ready for the occasional event.
It also doesn’t quite fit anymore. Or, well, it does, but one flex and it’s liable to rip.
And the last thing he wants to do at his own sister’s wedding is pop right out of his suit.
An employee stops by, lingers a few feet away. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can assist you with.”
Bobby gives him a smile and a nod, but doesn’t let the interruption break his stride. He hands the suit over to Buck before contemplating ties. It doesn’t take too long, the groomsmen all told to wear classic black and white, but the idea is that this suit will replace the other as his staple formal attire, and so the tie should be of a decent quality.
Buck lets him decide. He’d been the one to ask for help in the first place, anyway. There’s no sense in turning it down now.
“Okay, let’s try this one on.” With a smile, Bobby herds him over to the dressing rooms.
The door shuts behind them — both of them. It feels like the temperature shot up the very moment Buck realized they were both in the small space, because this is not something they do very often, but fuck, when it happens… He shifts, annoyed at himself for going with tight pants today.
Bobby’s eyes crinkle as he watches the realization wash over him. “Suit first, okay?”
Right. They’re here for a reason. A very good reason. Buck reminds himself that this is for his sister and Chim, that he’s not the only one going suit shopping, that Eddie and Hen will also be at his side. It helps with the tightness a bit. He smiles sheepishly.
Of course, Bobby won’t make it easy on him. He starts with a simple peck on the lips. It’s just a peck, a quick brush that shouldn’t do much at all, but it’s a reminder that they’re stuck in this space together.
Buck hangs the jacket up on the hook on the wall. The slacks are folded, and so he leaves those and the dress shirt on the bench with the tie.
Then, not even looking at him, Bobby uses deft fingers to work through the buttons on the light shirt Buck put on that morning. There’s not even any skin against skin contact yet.
It still has a dizzying effect on him. He swallows as he feels the burn across the tops of his cheeks. On nights when they’re not too tired or distraught from the day’s events, this is his favorite part.
Because Bobby always takes his time. There’s no reason to do it quick as far as he’s concerned. When there are no obligations to worry about, he lets his hands wander, his mouth following at a languid pace. Taking care of Buck is not an event to be rushed. Once the very last button slips free, he slides his hands under his collar and eases the shirt off his shoulders.
Buck lets it hit the floor.
His pants are next, and the button pops with slightly more effort. Bobby finally looks at him as he tugs the zipper down. “Step out of them.”
Buck toes his shoes off and then does as he’s told.
“Good boy.” The warmth in his words is always so sincere. He’s not just doing it for him. He means it.
Which makes it hit all the harder. Buck shivers, and it’s not just because he’s standing mostly naked in the dressing room. “Bobby.” It comes out hoarse.
The slacks are long. A touch too short perhaps, but it’s hard to tell exactly when he’s not wearing them yet. Bobby hums. “We might have to order the right length.” He hands them over, their hands brushing. “Go ahead.”
As it turns out, he’s right. They’re just too short in the legs. It’s not terribly surprising, and they fit nicely elsewhere, nothing straining around his muscles in a way that worries him. He sits on the bench in them, too, and is relieved when they’re still comfortable. “They fit nicely, but yeah. Maybe an inch or two longer.”
Bobby tilts his head as he considers where they fall. He nods. “Two inches, I think.” He goes for the dress shirt next, pulling the cardboard insert out from inside of it and holding out the sleeves for Buck to slip his arms into.
Turning to get the second on brings them in close, so close. Fuck, Buck is definitely fully hard now. There’s no way he’s going to be able to think this one down much at all, and going by the slight smile on Bobby’s face, he knows it, too. “I can do the buttons,” he says, but it’s half-hearted at best.
Bobby gives him another peck. It’s a reward, really, a little acknowledgement of how he’s struggling. “I’ve got you.” And he does. One by one, he does them from the bottom up to his chest. He doesn’t kiss him again, but there’s a heat between them in that moment, their faces close, his hands flipping Buck’s collar.
But he’s not done. Buck manages to stifle a whine as Bobby steps back to grab the tie. The silk wraps against the back of his neck, slides into place with a soft sound. He shivers again.
A gentle touch on his arm. Pressure coaxing him to turn around. Bobby meets his eyes in the mirror, and there’s want, so much want. His body is hot against Buck’s back. With practiced movements, he ties the tie slow and easy.
The sudden chill as he steps away does pull the whine from Buck this time. Bobby’s hands are back on him soon enough, helping him into his jacket, the last touch since the shoes in his closet still fit perfectly. He’s done. It’s all there in the mirror, and he looks good. Presentable for a wedding for sure. Buck barely looks at himself.
Bobby takes a step back and then another. He sits on the bench, still in charge despite the extra height difference between them now. “Come here.”
It’s like he’s pulled forward, his feet moving without express permission from his mind.
“I think it’s time for your reward.” Gently gripping his hips, Bobby smiles up at him as he coaxes him close enough that he can release his aching cock.
Fuck, Buck is going to leak all over these pants if they’re not careful. Just the sight of Bobby sitting in front of him like that has him twitching. “Please.”
“Good boy,” Bobby says again, and then the head is in his mouth, his tongue teasing the slit as he works a hand underneath to cup his sack.
Buck bites his hand. Sharp pain radiates across it, and his eyes water. No matter how often Bobby blows him, he’s never prepared for just how good he is at it. He breathes in deep through his nose. In. Out. There’s no sound coming from outside the dressing room, thankfully, but he focuses on the silence anyway.
Humming, Bobby dips his head to take more of him in. It’s nothing drastic, a half an inch here and then another on the next pass. He works to make this quick but not loud.
Buck blinks to clear his vision, because he wants to watch, needs to. His hips spasm.
Bobby’s grip tightens to keep him still. Pushing forwards, gently pressing that strip of skin right behind his balls, he lets his throat relax until he’s got him as deep as he’ll go. Another hum.
Buck doubles over him. His eyes squeeze shut so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if he had a headache after, and he’s coming right down his throat in a rush, each pulse swallowed down as fast as it comes.
There’s no mess. Bobby pulls back with a look of satisfaction and carefully tucks him back into his boxers. “Go on and change.” His voice is just a little rough. He clears his throat. “I’m sure they can order the right size at the register.”
Shifting on wobbly legs, Buck strips out of the suit with care so as not to mess it up, though his own clothes don’t get quite as nice of a treatment. He’s ready to be out of here, to go home and return the favor.