#limbpossible

The silk feels cool as it slips up his thighs and settles, snug, against his hips. Richard runs a thumb along the curve of his hipbone under the soft material, careful not to touch too much and have Hamilton walk in on him fondling himself. The garterbelt comes next and the straps dangle awkwardly against his thighs when he moves to pick up the pair of stockings left on the bed.

Soft jazz music fills the silence of the apartment while Richard struggles through three attempts to pull the stockings up before finally getting one on somewhat smoothly. The second is easier and they’re both clipped to the straps in front before Richard stands again. He has to twist himself almost entirely around to see the straps in the back and as he clips them to the stockings he silently laments for every woman that has to put this kind of get up on alone without superhuman flexibility.

With everything in place, Richard only gets a few scant seconds to look over himself in the mirror and feel mildly ridiculous wearing stockings without shoes, before the sound of the front door opening and closing cuts through the music.

“Richard?” There’s the sound of keys jingling and some shuffling as Hamilton goes through the motions of setting down whatever he was carrying now that he’s home.

“In here, Hamilton.” Richard looks himself over some more until he catches Hamilton in the reflection also appreciating the view. Fighting the urge to cover his body, he turns to face the other man and holds his arms out instead. “So, how do I look?”

“Positively divine. Although, you’re missing the final touch.” Hamilton steps further into the room and Richard finally notices the pair of short heels dangling from his hand. “Here. Sit.”

Richard follows the order, sitting at the edge of the bed again. He gasps, caught off guard when Hamilton then kneels down and puts a hand on his stocking-clad calves to lift first one foot and then the other for him to slip the shoes on for Richard. The intimacy of the moment has Richard feeling warm and lightheaded, but he can’t look away from Hamilton who’s still gently caressing his leg with a gloved hand.

The warm leather brushing over the sheer fabric makes Richard shiver and, like a spell being broken, Hamilton pulls away to stand again.

Clearing his throat, he helps Richard stand and places a hand on the small of his back when he wobbles slightly in the unfamiliar shoes. “Careful, Richard. You’re not walking the runway in Milan. No need to rush yourself.”

“Hush, you. You’re the one that wanted me to wear these sprained ankles waiting to happen.” Watching his steps carefully, the pair make their way to stand in front of the full length mirror and Richard finally looks up to see his reflection again.

Immediately, he straightens up- taken aback by the difference a slightly lifted heel makes in how his legs look in the lingerie. He never knew his calves could look so nice. His eyes rake over his own body again, as if seeing himself for the first time, while he takes in the ensemble and raises a hand to straighten his hair.

“I knew you’d look breathtaking in this color.” Hamilton’s low voice breaks the trance and Richard uses the mirror to look at his reflection too. He’s still fully dressed in his suit and shoes, gloved hand still warm on the small of his back, and has to noticeably tilt his head up to whisper in Richard’s ear now.

The hand on his back finally moves in a small circle before trailing to his hip where Hamilton thumbs over the layers of panties and garters and presses his body closer to Richard’s. “Aren’t you glad you let me get these for you?”