Liz Harris (
Rating: pg-13
Disclaimer: not mine. they belong to each other distribution: list archives, otherwise if you want it let me know.
notes: just a little nothing that i've ben working on cause i'm in a dry spell and apparently so is everyone else. unbetaed.


I can hear him coming up behind me, that steady swish-swish-swish of his long strides and those stupid cordory pants I told him only up-tight white boys would buy.

He tried to be funny, saying he *was* an uptight white boy but I solved that arguement by pulling him back into the dressing room and showing him how tight he *wasn't*.

I've played this game far too often not to know the rules, so I don't turn around.

"Excuse me," says a low voice behind me and then there's a warm croch pressed up tight against my ass. Haven't had it all day and damned if I don't want it now.

There's a slight wiggle as he presses harder, reaching over my shoulder for a book that's lying in front of me. A little twist of the hips and he's gone, leaving me a little aroused and more than a little pissed off.

He thinks it's funny, the pretending, the secrecy, - the fucking tease.

I wonder what he'd do if I turned around while he was still close- just turned around and kissed him, maybe even pressed a hand up against that too-fucking-warm crotch, give it a little squeeze.

He'd blush, of course, turning those cheeks a nice shade of pink. Though with as often as he blushes people still won't know anything.

One time when he was passing me by I managed to slip a finger along the line of that tight little ass. He gave a yelp that echoed all over this hotel, blushed redder than his ass that time we tried it kinky- and still no one looked up. Self-absorbed.

He's still close, I may just do it for the pleasure of watching him blush. There's just something about the way he does it...

Won't ever catch me like that. Wes can make me do a lot of things no one else can but never blush. Not even if Wes shouted our secret on the rooftop.

I don't know why we bother with all this secrecy. Cause, yeah, sometimes it bugs me he wants to keep things so quiet. Like he's ashamed. Well, more like afraid but where I'm from there ain't much of a difference.

I don't rag him to hard about it mostly because for all my loud talk I'm a little scared myself.

We will tell them. When things have settled down a little and we're sure we want 'us' to last a while. One day soon, when Wes stops blushing.


"I like my beer cold, my t.v. loud, and my homosexuals fl-a-ming!" -Homer

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