#fun indeed

Carlos waggles his eyebrows, finally letting his phone drop against his stomach. "Fashion show," he says with a smirk.

Rebecca grins in return. There's something sharp in it, a light in her eyes Teto loves to see as long as it's not turned on him. "Yes," she says, shaking out the last of the pieces over Carlos's head. "For me. How else will I know what they look like?"

Teto grins to match Rebecca, laughing even though he doesn't quite think it's funny. The thought of seeing Carlos in those tight little shorts and a matching top sends a sharp spike of arousal down his spine.

Carlos squawks, pulling a white sports bra off his head. "These will not fit me," he argues, holding it up at her. The bridge of his nose has turned a fascinating shade of pink.

"Course it will," she says, shoving her way onto the couch between Carlos and Teto. "They stretch." Rebecca kicks her long legs up onto the coffee table, crossing them at the ankle. She raises her eyebrows expectantly at Carlos, and all Teto can do is watch the pair of them, barely daring to breathe.

"Fine," Carlos says, rolling his eyes. "I will try something on, if Teto will."

Now it's Carlos grinning with Rebecca, both of them looking at him as Teto feels a blush crawl up his neck. "What?" he laughs weakly. "Carlos, c'mon, she told you to do it."

Carlos grabs another piece of clothing from his lap and throws it at him. Teto ducks, but not fast enough, and it slides down his back to the floor. "And I am telling you to do it, too," Carlos says. "Don't make me look silly by myself."

Teto shakes his head slowly. Teto will look silly, but Carlos won't. In women's clothing several sizes too small, Carlos can only look like sex incarnate.

"Come on, Teto," Rebecca says, nudging him with her knee. "It's only fair, right?"

No, Teto thinks, it isn't. Teto will look like a fool in clothes much too small, and he will be standing next to Carlos, who may like to do silly things but has never looked foolish a day in his life. It's not fair at all.

Faced with two mischievous smiles, there's only one answer Teto can give. "Fine," he says. "Since you asked so nicely."

Rebecca cheers, kicking her feet with glee. She's never been a gracious winner.

Teto starts to unbutton his shirt, but Rebecca's cool fingers curl around his hand, making him freeze. "Go change down the hall," she says. "Someone mentioned a fashion show."

Carlos groans. Teto pushes himself to his feet, gathers up the pile of clothes and flees down the hall to change. The sound that follows him does not register until he goes to shut the door and almost hits Carlos in the face. "You – together?" Teto asks stupidly.

"You took all the clothes," Carlos says, pointing to the bundle in Teto's arms.

"Right," Teto says, stepping back. It's either that, or picking out something for Carlos to wear, a thought that makes Teto's brain spark and sizzle like a bad electrical connection.

Carlos, apparently, has no such qualms. "You should do the pink," he says, tugging at the edge of one of the pieces. Most everything else flutters to the floor, leaving Carlos holding a flouncy little skirt that Teto can only stare at. "Since you liked it so much."

"No no, the black, I said the black one. You said the pink is nice," Teto argues, as Carlos shoves the skirt against his chest.

"It will look better on you," Carlos says, with that grin that hits Teto like an arrow, lodged deep in his chest. "With your hair."

"I have great hair," Teto says, immediately defensive, not quite realizing the way he's just helped make Carlos's point.

"Yes," Carlos agrees, snickering. "Great hair deserves great clothes."

Teto takes the skirt before Carlos can do something horrible like try to wrestle him into it, deciding to pick a different battle. "You should wear this," he says, picking a white sports bra off the floor and slapping it against Carlos's chest, the same way Carlos had done with the skirt.

"Ay, no." Carlos looks down at it, dismayed. "There must be something –"

"Are you girls chatting or changing?" Rebecca hollers from down the hall.

A hot flush of shame crawls its way up Teto's neck. He shouldn't – this is – "Your girlfriend is torturing us," he says, glancing at Carlos just as he tosses his shirt on the bed.

Teto stares as Carlos tugs the tight fabric over his head, arms twisting behind himself as he tries to pull it down flat over his back. The top narrows between his shoulder blades, Teto's eyes helplessly drawn to the ripple of his muscles as he tries and fails to pull the top farther down over his ribs.

"How does she breathe like this," Carlos mutters, still yanking at the fabric, pulled so taut over his body it's nearly see-through. Carlos catches sight of Teto and pulls a face. "I am not doing this alone," he says, flicking the skirt that's still dangling from Teto's fingers. He'd all but forgotten it was there.

Carlos gestures impatiently, leaving Teto with no option but to drop his pants and wriggle into the skirt. Rebecca was right, the fabric is stretchy, but no amount of stretch will make it any longer. "I cannot go out there like this," Teto hisses. One wrong move and his balls will peek out beneath the ruffled hem.

"No," Carlos says, swallowing thickly. His eyes linger on the ridiculously short hemline. Teto tugs it lower, which also tugs the waistband down, clinging to his hips for dear life. "The shirt does not match," Carlos says.

"That is what you are worried about?" Teto sputters. The fabric feels slippery against his legs, so much skin exposed he might as well be standing here in his underwear. No, that isn't quite true – his underwear does a better job of keeping him covered.

"It's this one, I think," Carlos says, holding out a pink top with a complicated pattern of straps.

Teto knows when he's been beaten. He takes it, feeling a little like he's clipping himself into a race harness as he pulls the straps across his shoulders and, bafflingly, around his waist. It takes so much of his attention to put on that he doesn't notice Carlos has finished changing. Once he's noticed, though, he cannot look away.

Carlos has pulled on a pair of shorts to match the top. It wouldn't be so different from his cycling outfits, maybe, except the shorts barely reach the tops of his thighs. They're also so tight Teto can see the entire shape of his cock.

"Those are –" Teto tries to laugh and can't, his mouth gone completely dry. "Underwear, no?" They must be. No one in their right mind would go to a gym dressed like that.

Carlos opens his mouth, but hesitates. He licks his lip, and Teto feels a dizzying rush of arousal. "Let's see what Rebecca thinks."

Teto makes Carlos lead the way. She's his girlfriend, after all. It was an idea that made sense in theory, but in practice, Teto can't keep his eyes anywhere decent. Carlos's bare shoulders, the dimples on his lower back, his ass in those tiny shorts – Teto should not be looking at any of it, but he can't tear his eyes away.

"Finally," Rebecca says when she hears their footsteps. She stares at Carlos for a long moment and then, rubbing her thumb along her bottom lip, shifts her gaze to Teto. Teto feels rather like a mouse caught in a cage with a tiger. It's a feeling he should hate more than he actually does.