Anon Kink Meme One shot
“Oh, is-is that what you’re going to wear?” Archie said, gazing at him in consternation, and David looked down at his T-shirt and faded jeans.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” he asked, confused, and Archie immediately blushed way more adorably than any 20 year-old young man had a right to.
“Oh, no, there’s nothing wrong, it’s fine, let’s just go,” he said hastily, taking out his car keys, and turning towards David’s front door, but David was having none of it.
“No, c’mon Arch, if you actually bothered to say something, there must be something wrong. Just tell me. Too casual for Brooke’s party?”
Archie’s noncommittal ‘hmmmm’ and downcast eyes was answer enough.
“Ok,” David said cheerfully, “It’ll only take me a second to find something else. Just make yourself at home, grab a drink, whatever, I’ll be back in a sec.”
“Do you have juice?” Archie asked hopefully, and David chuckled.
“I stocked up just for you, Arch. It’s in the door at the bottom,” he called back over his shoulder as he headed back to his bedroom.
A couple of minutes later, he came into the living room and found Archie sitting on the couch patting Dublin, with a glass of juice on the coffee table in front of him.
“Ok, let’s go, Arch,” he said, then stopped. Archie was looking at him with a worried crease between his brows.
“Um, Cook, did you just put a jacket over the top of what you were wearing before?” he asked in a pained voice.
“What? Plenty of guys do it; it’s a good way to look dressy casual!” David said defensively.
Archie nodded hurriedly. “Yeah, ok, that looks fine.” His smile looked about as natural as it did when fans tried to grope him.
David groaned and stripped off the jacket, shaking it down over his arms and tossing it onto the couch beside Archie.
“Fine, wait a second,” he said and left the room, never noticing the faint blush rising in Archie’s cheeks.
He was back in five minutes, now wearing a white button-down with a black vest and the same jeans. Archie was halfway through the glass of juice, and rubbing Dublin’s head as the dog’s eyes drifted shut.
“How’s this? Sleeves up or down?” David asked, already unbuttoning the cuffs and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the tattoos on his forearms. After a moment of silence, he looked up to see Archie scrutinizing him with one corner of his mouth turned down.
“It’s better, but, Cook, you, you kind of look like a waiter,” Archie said slowly. He sounded very apologetic, and David couldn’t help laughing.
“Well I appreciate your honesty, Arch. Maybe if I try it with a different-coloured shirt?” he asked, removing the vest. “Can you hold this for me?” He tossed the vest to Archie one-handed, tugging the tails of his shirt out of his jeans with the other hand.
“Yeah, maybe,” Archie replied faintly as David left the room.
When he returned a few minutes later, buttoning up a dark red shirt that was already feeling way too tight across his chest and shoulders, Dublin was curled up asleep in his basket in the corner, and Archie had laid out the black vest ready for him on the coffee table.
“What about this?” David asked, picking up the black vest, but even as he lifted it up to put it on, there was a ripping sound, and he groaned.
“Oh no, you ripped your shirt?” Archie exclaimed, looking concerned.
“Yeah, somewhere at the back,” David sighed, and half-laughed, “It’s ok, I haven’t worn it in ages anyway, I’ll go try and find something else.”
“Ok, and maybe um, maybe you should wear different jeans? Like, darker ones?” Archie suggested hesitantly. “Or, or maybe tighter, um, tighter ones, you know, to look more dressed up or something, I don’t know,” he stopped, blushing.
“Duly noted,” David grinned, “Tighter equals dressier.” He headed back to his bedroom, followed by the sound of Archie’s embarrassed laughter. But having unbuttoned the red shirt, he hit a snag.
“Oh man,” he muttered under his breath. The damn thing seemed to have gotten even smaller and tighter, and he was stuck, his arms tangled in the shirt, which was only halfway to his elbows.
“Damn,” he muttered, and raised his voice as he walked to the living room. “Archie, a little help?”
“Oh my gosh,” Archie exclaimed at the sight of him, “Cook, what did you do?”
David chuckled sheepishly. “So apparently, although I can undress myself, tight shirts are still an unresolved issue. Can you help me out here?”
He thought Archie gulped kind of loudly, but he must have been just swallowing his juice.
“Ok, uh, what-what do you want me to do?” Archie asked, standing up, and David walked around the coffee table to stand in front of him, then turned around and held his arms out backwards towards Archie.
“Well, I think if you, uh, just maybe grab the shirt and just give it a good yank downwards that oughta do it,” he said.
“O-ok.” Archie’s voice was weirdly shaky and David was about to turn around and ask what was up with him, when he felt Archie reach out to grab two fistfuls of the shirt at each of David’s arms. He heard Archie take in a deep breath before he gave a quick, firm tug, and the shirt peeled off David’s arms, the momentum sending Archie plopping back down onto the couch.
“Whew, thanks man, I don’t know how I would have got that off otherwise,” David turned around and abruptly broke off at the sight of Archie sprawled on the couch with David’s shirt clenched in white-knuckled fists, his lips parted and cheeks aflame, staring up at David with huge, dark eyes.
“Arch, man, you ok?” He said, and Archie dropped the shirt as if it had burned him.
“Yeah, um, what? I’m, Cook, I’m fine, I’m just, I’m just going to get a drink, why don’t you go put on something else?” he blurted, and fled in the direction of the kitchen.
“Uh, ok,” David replied. He walked back to his bedroom, mind whirling. Once in his room, he stood and stared at his wardrobe, brow furrowed in thought.
No way was Archie…you’re delusional. There’s no way in hell he would...
Would he?
David dug through his wardrobe until he finally found them.
Only one way to find out, he thought.
When he finally came out nearly ten minutes later, the first thing he noticed was that Archie had replaced his glass of juice with a bigger glass of water that tinkled with ice cubes.
“Arch, do you think this is too much?” he asked, and was intensely gratified at the jaw drop he received in response. He turned around slowly, giving Archie the full show, letting him take in the black shiny suit jacket, black button-down shirt, and the lacing that ornamented the sides of his black jeans, snaking down from hip to hem, the ends trailing on the floor.
He was definitely in better shape than he had been the last time he had worn these pants, during the American Idol tour, and they fit even more sleekly over his thighs and backside than they had back then, when grown women had screamed and groped and stolen his belt, and he kept wondering if he was imagining things, or if innocent little teenage Archie really was checking out his ass. He had always told himself he was crazy.
“No good?” he asked, “How about without the jacket?” He slowly slid the jacket back off his shoulders and down his arms, then tossed it onto the coffee table.
“Um, I, um,” Archie seemed incapable of forming a coherent response, his face flaming.
“It’s the shirt, isn’t it?” David sighed, and began to unbutton the shirt, walking around the coffee table to stand in front of Archie, who gazed up at him, lips parted helplessly.
He peeled the shirt off his arms, and couldn’t resist giving a little body-shimmy, bouncing his shoulders to shake the shirt off onto the floor. His necklaces clinked softly against each other on his bare chest, and Archie seemed frozen in place, looking at him like a deer in the headlights, if deer facing imminent death could look that filled with helpless arousal. David could feel himself getting harder by the second.
“Or maybe,” he said softly, letting his hands drop to rest on his belt buckle, “Maybe it’s the pants.” He paused, and the only sound was Archie’s breathing, fast and ragged. “Is it the pants, Arch?”
He didn’t even realise how nervous he had been, how only sheer bravado had kept him going, until Archie made a small strangled sound and scrambled up to stand on the couch in his socked feet, flinging his arms around David’s neck and catching him in a frantic, inexperienced kiss.
All the nervous tension drained out of him, replaced by a flood of triumph, arousal, and affection that left him light-headed. It felt like Archie was trying to climb him like a tree, one leg coming up to wrap around David’s hip, pulling him as close as possible, and he groaned, getting himself a handful of ass that was as tight and firm as he had ever imagined it to be. Archie broke off the kiss to moan loudly as their groins came into contact, rubbing against each other with a friction that was almost painful in its intensity.
“Oh my gosh, Cook!” he exclaimed, as David picked him up, hands gripping under his thighs, guiding them around his waist.
“Are we doing this, Arch?” He made himself ask, his voice hoarse and almost unrecognizable to his own ears, “God, David, do you want this? Are you sure -?”
Archie’s chest was heaving against his, and his face was flushed red, but his eyes were clear and steady when they met David’s, and so very bright.
“Yes, Cook, I’m really sure. Oh my heck, I’m so sure, I’ve liked you for like, forever but I thought I was always too young or too, um, too not a girl, and you’re so amazing, and I didn’t know how I could ever ask you, gosh! Um, short answer, yes!”
And David couldn’t help laughing, as turned on as he was, and the fierce lust and now now now in his brain softened and warmed to a joyful, steady heat in his chest.
“Me too, Arch.” A thought struck him, and his dick hated him for saying it, but he was an awesome friend, damnit, so he made himself say it, “But if we uh, aren’t we going to miss Brooke’s party?”
Archie gulped and bit his lip, lowering his eyes for a moment. David held his breath.
Archie looked back up at him, and there was a sly little grin on his face.
“Um, I think she’ll understand, um, oh gosh, it was her idea for me to pick you up, after all.”
David felt an answering grin spread over his own face, and he leaned in for another kiss. Archie’s lips parted eagerly, his tongue flickering out to meet David’s.
“Ok,” David grinned and hefted Archie up, loving the surprised gasp he elicited, “Then let’s go, Arch. Getting these pants off is going to be a two-man job.”
He was wrong; it only turned out to be a one-man job, because Archie could be very determined, when he had his mind set on something. And when he was really turned on.
~the end~