What Happens in Vegas?

Chapter 7

Some hotels in Las Vegas had the unfortunate feature of paper-thin walls, where every sound and cough and squealing child echoed through to the neighbours.

Fortunately for Ed and Stede's neighbours, Mandalay Bay was considerably more upscale than that.

Ed couldn't remember the last time he'd been so impatiently horny. Every second they stayed clothed felt like a waste. Every moment he wasn't touching Stede felt painfully long. Then again, he couldn't remember ever feeling this intensely about anyone, let alone after pining for months.

Fancy clothing was carelessly shed, dropped to the floor and strewn across the room with the enthusiasm of men half their age.

Ed hovered above Stede, on top of the covers and amidst the condoms and lube he'd dumped there earlier. He forced himself to slow down as he slid his hand down Stede's thigh to start the process of stripping off his fitted dress pants. He kissed more softly, savouring the taste of him, breathing in lungfuls of their mingled cologne and marveling at the thickness of his hair.

All of that slow savoring came to a screeching halt when his de-pantsing revealed the elastics around Stede's surprisingly toned thighs and the clips that held his shirt in place. He stared at the garters for a moment and his brain went totally blank. "One second..." he murmured, then got off him.

"Ah...is...is everything okay?" Stede squeaked, as he lay prone on the bed, his shirt still buttoned, his pants half-down.

"Yip, just...hold on..." Without asking for permission, he dug through Stede's suitcase until he found what he was looking for. He stood at the end of the bed, clutching a handful of straps and a pair of dress socks. He knelt at the end of the bed, then slowly slid the trousers the rest of the way off.

Stede looked confused, but didn't ask further questions, nor did he sit up.

Slowly, Ed unfurled the black dress socks, slid off his loafers, and gently pulled the socks up his calves, pausing to kiss the top of his foot, his lower leg, then his knee. He repeated the process with the other leg, then unsnapped the sock garters and slipped them around his legs one at a time. Each silver clip attached to the edge of the sock, and then he pushed the garters up to his knees.

That job done, Ed kept his eyes locked on Stede as he crawled back atop him. After pressing a kiss to his lips, he squeezed his straddled thighs against Stede's hips and started undoing his dress shirt. When he got to the bottom, he unclipped the shirt garters. Instead of removing them, he snapped the clips to the bottoms of Stede's tight boxer briefs.

"There," whispered Ed as he sat back to survey his work. He slid his hands up and down the bit of leg that wasn't strapped.

Stede blushed furiously and looked down at himself. His cheeks, even in the low light of the hotel room, were burning red. He swallowed. "You em, you...like this?"

"Mate," drawled Ed, one eyebrow lifting, "You have no fucking idea." He shifted until he could fully sprawl on top of Stede, elbows up past his shoulders, fingers sliding through his hair, fully destroying the careful style. When he kissed, it was with deep, probing, seductive intent. He rocked their hips together and felt Stede's breath catch between their pressed lips.

Ed knew how to seduce a man. He'd done it many times before. To men he cared about, to men he pursued, to men he met on hookup apps. For him, the look of delight and pleasure on a lover's face was as potent sometimes, as his own pleasure. But he usually felt in-control.

He knew he was good-looking. He had confidence to spare. He had experience. So usually, Ed was the one with his foot on the gas, the race car driver utterly in control of the thrill ride.