anatsuno .'s Library tagged crossdressing →  View Popular

“Rodney. It’s okay. Come on, help me out, okay?”

“I -” Rodney stood there helplessly, the corset-thing dangling from his hand. It was covered in dark, silky material that rippled over the struts inside, like skin over bones or muscle. “You shouldn’t have to do this. Why is it always you?”

John was pulling his tac vest over his head.

Rodney froze in the doorway to the bathroom with one hand forgotten at a button of his shirt, and was staring, eyes wide and dark, flickering over John, and – Jesus. Jesus. John would never stop finding that hot, the way Rodney looked at him when he was - when he was dressed like this. He breathed in through his nose to calm the nausea, and wiped his palms on the soft, soft fabric of the skirt. God, why didn’t they make clothes for guys made of stuff like this? It was amazing, the way it sort of clung and didn’t at the same time, and it made heat and vertigo twist in John’s stomach. He swallowed, and looked back at the mirror. He watched himself say, “I’m not sure I can do this.”

Rodney made a noise like terror in his throat and bent to lick John’s shoulder, then slid further down, oh god onto his knees, dropped sloppy, frantic kisses onto the bare stretch of skin above John’s hip, his stomach, then shoved the skirt up around John’s hips and put his mouth on his cock. John’s head dropped back and he had to bite back a scream, because Jesus fuck, Rodney was licking a wet trail up his dick under his skirt, and it was so fucking hot that his spine had turned to lava and was melting, dripping down the wall; he’d been half-hard for hours, from the moment he’d put on the skirt, aching from the fear that they’d notice, that they’d see, and now it was like Rodney was cutting him open with his mouth.