Standards
For storytellingape.
The sun was bright, the air was filled with the scent of late summer blossoms, birds trilled merrily from branches flocked with vividly green leaves, and two men, one with dark brown hair, one with brilliant red hair, and both with eyes the color of sea foam with a hint of battleship gray, entered Sackler’s Sexporium at exactly the same time.
(How they managed this was nothing short of impressive, their mirrored movements taking them through the double doors simultaneously, each man with one hand on a door and the other petting back over his head to ensure there were no cowlicks in his severe coif.)
They took no notice of each other, traversing the display cases in opposite directions, until finally they both came to a stop before this month’s featured product, a very large, very detailed double-ended dildo, the likes of which neither man had ever seen before.
It struck them both at once that this was the solution to unsatisfying partners. In unison, they said, “If you want something done right, do it yourself.”
At that moment they finally noticed one another, and it was almost like looking into a mirror. The redheaded man turned slightly pink, lips parting. The brunet glanced away, smiling awkwardly. They both noticed the other man’s full mouth, distinct cheekbones, and clever eyes.
“Armitage Hux,” said the redhead boldly, extending a pale hand. The brunet took it into his own equally pale grasp, shaking it decisively and answering, “Thomas McGregor.” For a long moment they stood hand in hand, gazes locked upon one another’s eyes. Then Armitage let go, and with a small noise of disappointment Thomas let his hand fall back to his side.
“Do you come here often?” Thomas asked.
“Yes,” Armitage said. It belatedly occurred to both of them that this should be embarrassing. Armitage quickly added, “It’s difficult to find a proper partner. I have a feeling you understand.”
“I do,” Thomas replied fervently. “I pride myself on my exacting standards, but...” He trailed off.
Armitage had never felt so understood in his life. “I think this might help,” he said, nodding at the dildo. “It might...bring a partner closer to my level.”
“Indeed,” Thomas said. “I think I’ll get one.”
They turned to the case, sorting through piles of colorful boxes, until it became apparent that there was only one of the double-ended dildos in stock.
“Oh, dear,” Thomas said.
“I suppose I’ll take this one, and you can come back,” Armitage said.
“I beg your pardon? I believe I should take this one. You can come back.”
Both men were somewhat alarmed to realize that the other was even more attractive when angry, plush lips curling into sneers and eyes narrowing dangerously. They alternately glared and stared at each other. Thomas licked his lips, and Armitage visibly shuddered.
“You know,” Thomas said, “it is double-ended.”
Armitage’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes.”
“We could...”
“We could.”
It took a few more moments of awkward hemming and hawing, but the men finally got it together long enough to make the purchase, Thomas paying cash and Armitage using a credit card for the difference.
“So,” Thomas said as they left the shop, each holding one handle of the bag, “which of us gets to use it first?”
Armitage stopped dead in his tracks. “That—that wasn’t—“
“Just checking,” Thomas said hurriedly. “I just...wanted to make sure.”
Armitage’s heart thudded in his ears. “Right. My place, then?”
“How about my place?”
They stood arguing for a few minutes more, until the door of the shop suddenly sprang open and a very large man with shining black hair—the proprietor—leaned out to yell at them, “Just go to a fucking hotel.” Then he gave them a lopsided grin, running a hand back through his hair. “And maybe take me with you?”
