Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Laird had never been more glad to have asked for time off.
Devon hadn’t been pouting. He’d been hurting. And it had been his fault.
The holiday stroll had been amazing, for sure. The hot chocolate tasted rich and decadent, the churros had been flaky and cinnamon-y, and the weather had been Christmassy.
Devon had squealed when they’d seen the little blown glass ornaments shaped like balls of yarn with knitting needles in them. “This is perfect! Now we find one for you.”
“And for the baby,” Laird had said. It was, apparently, the perfect thing to say. He’d ended up with a stethoscope-shaped ornament, and they’d picked a little heart with a Santa hat for the baby since they’d met on Valentine’s Day.
It was going on the tree they’d set up this morning as soon as Laird wrestled these lights into submission.
Devon was putting boughs of greenery on the mantelpiece and adding flameless candles all around. It was adorable.
He’d never seen so many knitted ornaments, pillows, or bunting.
He didn’t even know what bunting was until he met Devon. Now he knew. There was a lot of bunting involved in Devon’s life.
“I have this weird Santa hat for the top of the toilet tank.” Devon held it up, and it was a red velvet Santa hat with fuzz for a toilet tank.
“Is that hygienic?” Laird asked.
Devon shrugged, “Well, I usually only put it in the guest bathroom, you know, the powder room downstairs. Nobody uses it.”
“Would you be terribly offended if I asked you to just put that away for me?” Even if they washed it weekly… Ick.
“Fair enough. Like I said, I just kept it down here in the powder room. I don’t think anybody even saw it.”
Devon really needed to get more friends. Honestly, the man was altogether too isolated.
“Not even Raven or the kids?” he asked.
“Well, I have a changing station for Raven’s little ones set up in the guest room on the second floor. So they always just went upstairs. I’m not sure anybody actually knew there was a powder room down here.”
“Maybe we could just get a bow to put on it,” Laird offered.
“That would be fun. We could get a tartan bow.” He was being sarcastic, but Devon lit up like it was the best idea ever. “That way, when your sister or parents come, they’ll know that we’re thinking about them.”
Oh lord. Right there in the crapper. That was exactly where his family needed to see it. He chuckled. “Sure, I’m sure we can get something that comes close to McCallum tartan.”
Devon tilted his head, a strange light came into his eyes. It was a little fanatical, Laird thought. “Do you have a kilt? Do you ever wear a kilt? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a kilt in the closet.”
Laird blinked, a bit surprised. “I do, yeah. It’s in a garment bag in the closet.”
Devon grinned, and it was a huge, happy, almost Grinchy-looking grin— from the cartoon, he meant. “I thought that was a suit.”
“It kind of doubles as one. I have a jacket that goes with it. It’s in the bag too, and I wear it for things like weddings. That kind of thing.”
“And you have the socks? With the weird garter things on them?” Devon just shot questions at him like nothing going.
“Uh-huh. I even have the little dagger that goes into the sock. I don’t wear it all the time, but when I get together with the whole family, it’s the kilt, the sporran, everything.”
Devon started tossing tinsel and things back into the boxes. “Put away anything the cats might eat. Come on. Right now.”
Feeling bemused, Laird did just that, putting the cap on anything that cats could get back into before standing up and popping his back. “What are we doing?”
“You’re going to go put on your kilt.” Devon popped up off the floor and came to grab his hand, yanking him toward the stairs.
“I am? Is this some sort of festive holiday thing with you?” He had a feeling it had nothing to do with holidays, toilet bowl covers, ornaments, and ribbons, but he had to tease.
“No, this is about you putting on a kilt and showing off your amazing legs, and me having easy access and being able to take pictures and send them to my friends.” Devon towed him right up the stairs, marching him like he was some sort of military guy.
How freakin’ adorable was this side of him? Laird had no idea the guy had a kilt fetish.
“I’m not sure I’m going to let you take pictures, baby.”
“I’ll only take pictures of you fully clothed in your kilt. Maybe with your shirt off. The rest of it is just for me.” The glinting grin Devon threw at him over his shoulder made him laugh.
“I suppose that’s a compromise, but maybe not a good one.” He didn’t dig in and stop though. He followed Devon all the way to the bedroom because who knew what he would get out of this.
As soon as they got to the bedroom, Devon crawled up in the middle of the bed, sitting cross-legged, and grabbed his phone. “Okay, make with the putting on of the kilt.” He looked entirely too pleased with himself.
“You know, baby, I really don’t—”
“Look, you said you’d do it. I want to see the kilt. I will make it worth your while.”
Laird tilted his head, “Will you now?”
“Yes.” Devon stared at him, so utterly serious. “Yes. In fact, I might make it to where you want to have that kilt on every goddamn second we’re alone. You never know. I can do things with the human body you haven’t discovered yet.”
God, that was adorable. “Well, I am an EMT.”
One eyebrow winged up so fast Laird was worried Devon would lose it. “I’m not going to put an IV in you, Laird, I’m going to make you a very, very, very happy man. Put on the fucking kilt and don’t argue anymore.”
Yeah, it was a quick slide from excited to irritated with his hormonal lover, so he just went with putting on the kilt.
It seemed the safest thing to do.
“Do you want the whole deal, or just the—”
“You can skip the socks and the man purse. Just the kilt. Make it snappy.”
Laird chuckled, heading to the closet to pull out the garment bag with the kilt. It was wool, and had cost the earth, so he protected it from moths and such.
He pulled it out, laying it on the bed, then hung the rest back up before he started to strip off the sweater and jeans he wore.
The kilt required nothing else.
Devon watched him with eyes like a hawk’s, gaze dragging over his skin. True to his word, Devon didn’t start snapping pictures right away—maybe one when his shirt was off, but none in his skivvies.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Devon; he didn’t trust the world who had hacking capabilities and that sort of thing.
Of course, it wasn’t like lots of people hadn’t seen him naked. He went to the gym, he had a locker room at the fire department. He’d been buck naked before in front of other folks.
He’d never actually felt quite so naked with Devon looking at him the way that he was looking at him before.
“It’s a little weird getting naked while you’re fully dressed,” Laird pointed out.
Devon shrugged, stripped off his shirt, and grinned at him, his head wiggling on his neck. “Ta-da!”
“You’re such a nerd, baby.”
“No, but I tell you what, this is fun. I might have to buy you more kilts, like days of the week kilts.”
“Days of the week kilts?” Now that was an idea whose time had gone and gone. It hadn’t even come and gone, it was just gone.
“You know it. Like a purple tartan on Monday, a blue tartan on Tuesday, a green tartan on Wednesday. Maybe I’ll get you a leather one for Fridays.”
“Listen, you’ve been hanging out with Raven too damn long.” He went for serious, but it wasn’t working. “Besides, I really have two options for plaid. McCallum archaic and modern. Utilikilts I can do in any color.”
Laird lined up the kilt, pleats in back, apron flat in the front. He buckled the inner strap on his left hipbone, then settled it in place to buckle the two straps on the right. Easy peasy.
His first kilt had been an archaic style, which he’d had to pleat out on the bed and sort of…lie down on.
“You want the belt, baby? It’s very studly.” The kilt belt was a wide leather thing with a big silver buckle.
Devon was staring at him, lips parted, phone held in his hand.
Just staring.
“Have you had a stroke?”
“Just stand there and look pretty. No comments from the peanut gallery are necessary. Just stand there and be hot, would you?”
Laird chuckled and then posed, sucking his belly in.
That actually made Devon moan. This was fun.
“I totally think I need the belt. The belt makes the outfit.” He went to dig for the belt, making sure that he was well bent over even though he didn’t have to be, and that his legs were just the slightest bit parted.
He heard Devon shoot a couple of pictures. And then he absolutely heard the unzip of Devon’s pants. Score.
He turned back around and slowly fastened the leather belt, wrapping it around his waist and cinching it tight. “Do you like the belt, baby?”
“Uh-huh. You look amazing.” Devon had his cock in his hand and was stroking himself. Not hard and fast, just slowly like he was drawing it out.
Maybe this whole idea of a kilt of the day wasn’t such a bad one. Laird could totally get into this.
He watched Devon, his own cock trying to fill, his body responding to the sight of his omega, the need and arousal that seemed to flood the air.
He grinned a little bit because his mate was kind of hysterical—not in that having a fit way, but in that funny as hell way. But also fucking amazing. Hot and making him ready to just go for a hell of a ride.
“We’re gonna have to be careful though, baby.” When Devon looked up frowning, he waved a hand in the air. “This thing is impossible to clean.”
“Oh, then, let me take a few more pictures, and we’ll get you a utilikilt for next week. One of those cotton twill ones that you can wash in the washer and dryer.”
“That sounds perfect to me.” He let Devon take his fill of pictures and then moved over to bend over the bed, one hand and one knee on the mattress, to give Devon a kiss.
Devon moaned, one arm coming up to wrap around his neck. Sadly, it was the one holding the phone, so it clunked against the back of Laird’s skull, but he wasn’t going to complain.
“Oh oops!” Devon tossed the phone down toward the end of the bed. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to hit you.”
“Don’t apologize, baby. I like that you’re distracted.
” He took another kiss, his hand sliding over Devon’s belly and down to wrap around his cock.
He stroked up and down, giving Devon some friction, and that got him a sharp cry.
Devon spread his legs and dug into the mattress with his heels, so he could push up into the touch.
Then Devon was yanking at his belt buckle, and Laird let him have at it, let Devon be the one to unbuckle the buckles he’d so laboriously put together only moments ago, and the kilt went flying off somewhere where it wouldn’t get any kind of goo on it from their exertions.
Devon tugged him right down on top, spreading to accommodate him between those lean, long legs. And he moaned as his cock rubbed against Devon’s hot, wet hole.
This kilt thing definitely had merit, and he was totally going to be exploring it at length after he got done knotting this sweet ass for at least a couple of hours.