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Brigham shifts the box of beer he's carrying from one hand to the other as he prepares to knock again. As his knuckles rap against the wood, Logan chuckles tensely beside him. It's the third time, and they're both well aware that someone should have heard them by now. For good measure, Logan sends off a text to the group chat, desperate for someone's attention.
"You think they started without us?" He asks, a laugh rippling under the surface of his chest. In Logan's hand is a bottle of Tito's, as well as a pack of shot glasses tucked into the pocket of his hoodie.
His phone goes off, the default tone ringing twice before he picks it up. Brigham can hear a voice from the speaker, though is unable to make out what they're saying. It's Fanboy, if Logan's responses are anything to go by.
"The door is not unlocked, man. And why the hell would you just leave your apartment door unlocked anyway?" There's a pause, followed by Logan groaning. Brigham snickers as he bumps his shoulder into Logan's. "Just let us in. I'm tired of holding this shit."
Half a minute later, the lock on the door was clicking, and Fanboy's smiling face was greeting them. He ushers them in, grabbing Brigham by the hem of his shirt and dragging him through the doorway.
"Yo, 'Ben!" He starts, letting go off Brigham, who brushes the bottom of the fabric. “Sorry for the wait. I didn't realize he locked people out - we're in the living room."
"Waiting on anyone?" Logan asks before they enter the room and get a good view of who all is there. Fritz and Omaha are squishing into each other's space on a loveseat, Halo's legs draped over their laps while she leans against the armrest. Payback is shuffled to the side of what should be a single seat, but that Brigham knows will somehow fit both him and Fanboy.
True to tradition, Fanboy manages to shove Payback aside and fold himself in enough that they seem to fit comfortably. Briefly, Brigham wonders how often they sit like that, as the movement was too clean not to be practiced.
"Coyote and Hangman said they'll be here in a few," Payback answers, tipping a beer he's gripping in greeting. He turns to Fanboy, burying his face in the curls beginning to grow on Fanboy’s head.
"What'd you yell for?"
"Why'd you lock the door?"
"Why didn't you? Just asking for someone to come in unwelcomed." Fanboy pulls away at that, a playful glare falling over his features.
"May I remind you that everyone here is military personnel? I think we'd be okay." Payback laughs as he wraps an arm around Fanboy's shoulders, pulling his back to Payback's chest.
"And may I remind you that everyone who was here is already a few drinks deep?"
That gets what almost sounds like a shout from Halo, who raises a little pouch of something fruity and frozen. "Speak for yourself, Payback. Not all of us are lightweights."
Brigham realizes then that the weight of the beer in his arms is not only still present, but pressing. He puts the box down first, Logan following suit with the bottle, one of the ridiculous not-quite-two-liter-sized ones, of which Brigham plans on consuming too much.
A couple of weeks prior, Fanboy had texted the group chat they (he) had made post suicide mission, and asked if anyone was available for a Christmas movie night. Rooster, Phoenix, and Bob were all out, deployed together on some secret shit that they couldn't divulge info about. Everyone else either was excited to get together, not having had the opportunity to since the majority had managed to meet up over the summer.
There's a distinct lack of VHS tapes of the classic claymation movies that he assumed would be present, since it was a Christmas-specific marathon. Maybe the Garcia-Fitch household had them purchased digitally, but that felt a little odd.
"What're we watching today?" He asks, Logan tugging on his sleeve to get him to sit in front of the couch with him. The table of drinks is directly in front of them, and their backs maneuver into whatever space isn't occupied by Omaha and Fritz's legs. Another loveseat sits directly across from Fanboy and Payback, but it's known to be reserved for Hangman and Coyote, who often fall asleep before any night is over, and need the space to spread out.
Brigham slides down, his legs underneath the table, as he tips his torso so that Logan can wrap his arm over his shoulders. Logan briefly nuzzles his nose into Brigham's curls, smiling into them before pulling back.
Fanboy is excitedly vibrating as he grabs the remote to turn the TV on. It stays on a menu screen while he flicks through his phone, and a moment later, the screen flashes bright pink in the otherwise neutral room.
"Is Mean Girls even a Christmas movie?" Logan asks him, his voice low in an attempt to prevent sounding judgemental as the group behind them whoop in excitement. Fritz's voice is loudest, but the way Halo laughs and Omaha echoes leaves little to question regarding their interest.
"It is today," Payback answers, cutting through the giggles that remain in the air. Fanboy still has his phone in his hand, and looks like he's searching for something. Payback leans over to look at the phone with him, to which Fanboy turns the screen to give him a better view. Fanboy whispers with a grin a moment later, and a collective chime rings out into the room.
It's easier for Brigham to grab his phone than for Logan, so he leans into the man a little more to reach into his pocket to look. Fanboy's sent a link that, when Brigham opens it, pops into some Wikipedia knockoff that's sorted into how many times to drink with specific scenes. The last time he remembers watching it was not long after the movie came out, and his sister demanded they watch it together.
Based on what he remembered from the movie, and his tendency to take large drinks when offered, Brigham is expecting to be relying entirely on coffee and Advil tomorrow. Logan gives him a knowing look as well, before pulling away to stand. Omaha kicks his shoulder as he gets up, to which Logan elbows his shin, but gives him a thumbs up anyway.
A minute later, Logan returns with three large water cups in hand, delicately putting them down in a fashion that only an ex-waiter would be able to. Brigham quietly thanks him, kissing his temple, before leaning back against his shoulder.
Hangman and Coyote show up no long after to amused greetings at how Hangman is bundled and latching onto Coyote, who's only wearing a single open flannel. They take their position on the couch, Coyote lying along the length, back propped against an armrest, while Hangman rests on his chest, tucked between his legs. Coyote's arms are wrapped around his shoulders, Hangman's fingers laced between one hand, while the other reaches for a bottle of beer.
"You guys see the text?" Payback asks as he reaches for his own bottle. In response, he gets a hum and the flash of a phone screen, which is good enough for Fanboy to flick the movie to a start.
— — —
They’re a little over half an hour into the film, and Brigham is more than pleasantly buzzed. Logan seems better off than him, despite having a lower tolerance. From what Brigham has seen, he's been alternating shots with water, and lighter drinks to supplement. But, he's not the only one who's well and truly drunk. Hangman's about as giggly as they can hope to get him, constantly whispering things into Coyote's ear before his head tips back with laughter, and, while the group above him have been loud the whole time, but they're making less sense than before. Though, that may also be due to the way his thoughts seem to be swimming around his head.
Brigham is a little lost as to the plot of the movie at this point, but there are four girls dressed in little Santa outfits. The mean blonde one says something to the girl next to her, and other people are taking a sip, so he downs the shot he's holding between his fingers.
He's about to prepare another one, but Logan reaches out a hand and rests it on his arm, offering up the water that's been sitting unused on the table this whole time. It's not any more effort than pouring the vodka, so he shrugs and downs half the cup in one go.
Music starts playing from the movie, something Brigham recognizes as Jingle Bell Rock. He suppresses a laugh at the visuals, the bright red outfits, and the over-the-top dancing that he's not really able to focus on. Logan's looking at him, his eyes flicking from his face to his legs, then up again. Brigham smiles and kisses him sweetly as he thanks him for the water.
"Remember when I wore that skirt, babe?" Fanboy asks, body draped over Payback's. It's dramatic, really, one leg flung over the armrest, his torso splayed across Payback's lap while he reaches a hand up to caress at his jaw. Payback meets his hand with his own, moving it a few inches to kiss his palm before bringing it down to their laps.
"I do. Not sure they want to hear about it, though." His voice is thick with something Brigham can't quite place, but it demands the attention of all present parties. Fanboy is, from what Brigham can tell, looking at Payback with nothing but reverence. He smiles and laughs, turning back to watch the movie.
"I looked good in it. Better than they do." Fanboy points to the screen, right as there's a smack of faux leather against skin. Payback hums, and removes his hand from Fanboy's to place it on the top of his thigh.
Brigham is suddenly more interested in the movie. His head tilts as they dance, as the music cuts out and they have to encourage the crowd to sing for them. Logan's had an arm wrapped around his shoulders or waist for the majority of the film, but his other is finding a spot on Brigham's leg, gently pulling it so that he turns, their legs now pressing together.
His gaze still wanders over Brigham's entire body, but occasionally returns to his legs. Brigham's not stupid, even in his current state, and the attention is making him a little warmer under the alcohol, so he spreads his legs just a little. Enough that it would look, to anyone else in the room, like he was making himself comfortable. But Logan's head snaps up to the screen, eyes firmly on them as the scene changes.
— — —
Brigham runs his hand along the wall to keep himself steady on his trek to the bathroom. He's relying more on muscle memory than vision, the dark hallways and alcohol still running through his blood preventing him from feeling totally sure of himself in the moment.
Once he reaches the room and flicks the light on, Brigham takes a seat on the toilet, but doesn't do anything. The sink is directly in front of him, and he can't help but laugh at himself, slouching against the back of the porcelain throne with his clothes entirely on.
He does, eventually, use it properly, washes his hands and just stares at himself for a moment. A thought flashes behind them, remembering how Logan was looking at him earlier. He can still feel the hand on his leg, the way he seemed a little distracted by the skirts on the screen.
It's only a passing thought, but it gets Brigham to fumble out his phone and open Amazon, typing in something that manages to be recognized as sexy Santa costume. The first result is a grinch costume, the second a proper costume, but the third works. It's a short dress, some fabric that looks stretchy with some really dramatic cups that he giggles at thinking about filling out. It'll work, and, worst-case scenario, it'll be a good laugh.
Brigham swipes the buy now option after selecting a size he hopes will fit. With a last glance into the mirror, and the slap of a light switch as he exits, his phone is loosely dropped back into his pocket. He makes his way back to where Logan is curled up on an air mattress that's too small for them both, and wraps his body around the man, falling asleep almost immediately.
(That morning was, in fact, driven almost exclusively by the pain meds Logan so generously gave him when he awoke, as well as copious amounts of water and Gatorade, which he swore helped.)
Logan's heading out of their apartment to grab something from the store when Brigham gets the notification that he has a package one stop away. He doesn't ask Logan to see if he can time it right to grab it, since he's not entirely sure what the hell is coming for him. Wracking his brain, there is no memory of ordering anything. It's not impossible that he preordered something, but nothing that really rings any bells.
He opens Amazon, since that's where the notification is coming from, and glances at his orders. A couple of shitty undershirts, a new brimmed hat for Logan, and, the most recent purchase, a bright red, stretchy-looking, Santa-themed dress.
Brigham pauses when he sees it, trying desperately to remember why in the hell he would order that. It's nothing he'd get for any of his younger sisters, and not usually his or Logan's style. Scrolling over the item, it doesn't look like it was too expensive, so that's good. Maybe someone ordered through him, and he just couldn't remember?
But that's when it hit him. The fucking movie night at Fanboy and Payback's place.
He doesn't remember ordering as much as he does the group watching Mean Girls, that Fanboy said something about wearing a skirt, and that Logan seemed suddenly very interested in his legs. Okay. Drunk him made a horny purchase. He can work with that.
It's not here yet, though should be soon, so Brigham grabs a pair of shoes to throw on when he hears the phone go off. He makes his way down to where their mailbox is, stalling for time so that there shouldn't be any weird interactions with the delivery guy.
The dress came in a paper package, a little wet from a drizzle outside, but fine otherwise. It's vacuum sealed and slightly wrinkled once out of the plastic, though Brigham suspects it should smooth out with a bit of hanging or precise folding. It has two thin straps that connect to where the neckline ends, marked by two white strips of faux fur atop the cups. Said cups are a little goofy, a sweetheart neckline that meets in the middle with a small red bow, made from a more foam-like fabric to support tissue Brigham doesn't have the right shape for. However, with a little maneuvering, the extra space looks like it'll allow him to get his chest and shoulders to fit within the straps.
Brigham holds it at the top, thumbs running over the fabric of the straps: smooth, without much give. There's an attached belt on the waist, held on by a couple more strips of fabric to mimic belt loops. He brings one hand up to his own waist, feeling for the circumference, and exhales as he prays that it will fit. Though, if it doesn't, the fabric feels thin enough that he could probably cut it off for some extra breathing room. The bottom of the dress is wrapped in the same white, fluffy fabric that sits at the top. It's surprisingly and pleasantly soft, but also noticeably very short.
They've talked, offhandedly, about Brigham dressing all pretty for Logan in bed. Usually nothing more than a couple of comments about how some lace would look on him, the idea of a garter thrown in there at some point, but it was never a serious conversation between the two of them. Would Logan even like it?
It's not too late to return it, but as Brigham keeps one hand on his stomach, the other still lingering over the fabric below him, he can feel his face flush at the thought of the skirt flipped up over his ass, of Logan grabbing the strap for the bra and pulling him up with it. His hand moves down, fingers now skirting just under the tops of his jeans, and his breath catches.
He decides, then, to try it on. He's got to make sure it fits, right?
The task of undressing is surprisingly difficult when Brigham's hands tremble slightly, but he gets there, clothes thrown in the corner of the room when he's done. He pauses for a second, trying to figure out if it would make more sense to step into the dress or pull it over, but he decides to step in, as the least amount of time trying to stretch it over his shoulders would probably be the most beneficial in the long run.
Brigham unhooks the strap in the back, and steadies it by the ones for the shoulders. It catches on his boxers, and he almost laughs when he realizes that maybe he should have taken them off. Too late now, though, so he commits and just brushes them out of the way as much as possible. More of a struggle was his waist, the belt having a little give but not quite enough to make this easy, but once the straps are situated over his shoulders, and he can adjust as needed, it sits comfortably.
He walks over to the vanity above their dresser, and holds his breath at the sight of himself. Brigham's never been one to like watching himself. They'd tried mirror sex once when they realized that it was in a good position, but it just made him laugh every time he tried to look. But now? Even with the bra strap loose on his back, and the gap between his chest and the cups, he looked hot, and he knew it.
The belt draws his eye immediately to his waist, the only real dark part of the ensemble, which helps make it appear like it's being brought in. The skirt ends at the tops of his thighs, enough fabric to splay over his boxers, but not so much that his half-hard erection isn't noticeable. He runs his hands over the torso of the dress, the smooth fabric almost taut against his skin, and thin enough that he can feel how warm his hands have gotten.
His eyes are half-lidded by the time he reaches below the skirt, and he gives himself a brief reprieve from looking as he gets a hand on himself. It's just a squeeze, but he exhales in relief at the pressure. Brigham's tempted to jerk himself off, and his hand moves on its own at the thought, but he manages to stop himself. There is no way he's going to ruin the dress, and he's not sure he'd be able to get any cum out of the fabric anyway.
He knows he doesn't have a lot of time. Logan only went for a couple of items, and would probably be back soon. With a groan, he removes his hand from himself, his dick twitching at the loss. Already in his night's plans, he is most definitely going to take a shower. In fact, he's going to take a shower now.
Once the dress is off and tucked deep, deep into a drawer Brigham doesn't think Logan goes into often, he shucks off his boxers and tosses them into the pile with the rest of his clothes. He makes his way to the shower, debating on setting it to freezing, but deciding ultimately to treat himself.
Logan comes home a few minutes after. He peeks into the bathroom, and leans against the wall while he waits for Brigham to realize he's there. But Brigham has his eyes closed, mouth half-open while his hand strokes in slow motions on his cock. Logan almost laughs, until he decides to just strip and join him in the shower.
Brigham whimpers when he feels another pair of hands on him, nods as Logan bats his hands away, and lets out a full whine as he watches the man get on his knees. He doesn't last long, not with Logan's experience and the images his head is conjuring up. As thanks, he hauls Logan up, and kisses him rough, getting one hand on his dick, the other pushing his hips onto Brigham's thigh.
That night, once Logan has fallen asleep, Brigham takes it upon himself to order a couple more items. Nothing major; a black lacy thong and a set of white stockings with floral details on the top. For a fleeting moment, he's thankful that they're not married, and that their bank accounts are still separate. He's not sure what he would say if Logan began interrogating him on mysterious charges to lingerie websites. But the orders get placed, and he remembers them this time, and as he drifts to sleep, with Logan's hand on his waist and his breath on Brigham's shoulders, he smiles to himself.
Timing is the most important thing right now.
It's Christmas, and late enough in the morning that the sun is starting to peek through the windows, but not so much that Logan has awoken. Good. Brigham snaps awake once he sees the light, mind flashing to the supplies he stashed away in a hall closet across from their bathroom the night before.
All the articles of clothing he had ordered are folded nice and neat when he looks, resting underneath a bottle of lube and a small red butt plug. He grabs them, and swiftly makes his way to the bathroom. In order to not raise suspicions, Brigham had feigned exhaustion last night, claiming he was too tired to shower, and that he simply would in the morning if he woke up early enough.
The redying process is simple enough. He showers, cleaning himself outside and in, before opening himself up to three fingers just to be safe, and slides the plug inside himself. His dick is straining by the time he's done, and Brigham knows that it won't take much for him to get off, so he decides to say fuck it, and strokes himself until he's coming down the drain before rewashing his body to rid himself of the sweat he's gathered. If he's going to be spending this much time with the plug in, he'd be damned if he didn't give himself some advantage.
As far as it goes, the plug doesn't do too much for his own pleasure. It's not quite long enough to hit his prostate unless he's sitting, or being pressed into him, but it keeps him open, and the pressure that is there is a nice reminder of what's to come.
He debated shaving his legs just to know what it feels like under the lace, but he hadn't quite left enough time to get a good, clean shave, without the worry of knicking himself in the process. The steam leaves his skin soft as he dries himself, his hand running around the edges of the towel, fingernails gliding down his chest to the spattering of hair at his naval.
He's still a little hard, and as he pulls the lingerie into place, he has to adjust to get everything to stay in the flowery fabric. Putting on the stockings doesn't help, either, as his legs jostle his dick and its lace covering with every movement. By the time he slips the dress up, and wraps the straps over his shoulders, clipping the strap together in the back (how the fuck do girls do this?), he's almost ready to get a hand on himself again.
Almost.
But he stands in the mirror, fiddling with the cups until they look less silly. They never really do, though, so eventually he just places his hands on his waist, right below the belt, in a pseudo-superhero pose to give himself a little more stability in his mind. He laughs, after a moment, but it doesn't escape him that he looks fucking good, with the tops of the stockings peeking into view complimenting the white fur at the bottle.
Before leaving, Brigham stuff the bottle of lube into the bra, able to hide it due to the gapping. It's not the most comfortable, but Brigham knows that they will both thank him for it later.
He heads to the kitchen and turns on the coffee machine before cracking open the fridge to scope out what kind of food they're going to have. It can't be too big a meal, both of them planning on meeting Brigham's family for an early dinner. So he grabs a carton of eggs, and is about to turn on the stovetop when he hears their bedroom door squeak open.
Aside from an open doorway, their kitchen is closed off, but adjacent to their living room, where they have a little tree and a couple of stockings set up. A moment later Logan begins padding through the hall toward him, footsteps heavy with sleep.
"Do I smell coffee?" he asks, voice a little rough in a way that sends a shiver down Brigham's spine. It sounds like he's about to enter the kitchen, so before he does, Brigham answers, "uh, yeah. Go sit down. I'll bring you some."
He has plans, and he's not going to let Logan's search for coffee get in the way of them. Said plans involve playing a certain famous Christmas song and swinging his hips over Logan's a little bit. The coffee finishes a minute or so later, and he dumps creamer into it to Logan's taste, which is a lot, yet somehow still less than Brigham uses. They go through far too much creamer.
If he's right, Logan is going to be sitting on the loveseat, which should be fine, since there's a coffee table right next to it, and they hopefully won't have to worry about spilling anything.
And, sure enough, Logan is melting into the couch, tugging a throw blanket over his legs while he waits. He's fiddling with his phone, eyes down; probably reading through morning holiday messages that Brigham knows he got from his parents.
"Coffee whiter than me, just how you like it," Brigham says, holding out the cup, handle facing Logan. He reaches out before looking up, and Brigham places it gently in his hand as to avoid any potential hazards that could arise. Logan takes a sip as he closes out of whatever tab he is on, finally looking up at Brigham.
"Tastes good. Thanks." He doesn't seem to register what's in front of him other than the mug in his hand until the sugar hits him. It's on the second sip, Brigham drinking his own, when Logan pauses, dropping the cup slightly so as to not choke himself while he gives him a once-over. His eyes are wide, pupils dilating as he realizes what exactly it is that Brigham is wearing.
He opens and closes his mouth, coffee now held out above his lap. Brigham flushes a little at the attention, but he can see that Logan's doing the same, so he leans down to where his eyes are level with Logan's, and he smiles before kissing the plane of his forehead.
"Brigham. Holy shit." Is all Brigham gets once he backs up.
"A good holy shit, I assume."
Logan gives him a look that's equal parts incredulous and in love. He doesn't respond immediately, though, instead placing the mug gently down on the table beside him, and standing up to meet Brigham. His hands find Brigham's waist, wrapping around and clasping behind his back as he pulls him in for a kiss. It's gentle, more smiling and giggling than actual kissing, but Brigham can play the long game if it means that he gets to see Logan like this.
"A very good holy shit." He says finally, after a few moments, taking a second to kick the blanket that had fallen to the ground out of their way. After, Logan pulls back, arms still behind Brigham, his thumbs tucking under the fabric of the belt. With a slight pull, Brigham's body is pressing against his, Logan's thigh slotting between his. It causes friction to his cock, enough that it seems to remember that this whole thing is a horny affair, but not enough to get him more than half-hard.
But Logan feels pleasantly warm against his body, hands running over the smooth plane of his back, their chests pressed together. He pulls the clasp and lets it snap gently against Brigham's skin, which stings a little, but nothing more than what Logan knows he likes. Logan kisses his neck, and sucks a few marks onto his collarbone as he pulls the flimsy straps aside, as if they were offending him. Brigham can't help but chuckle at the idea that these centimeters-thick pieces of silk were in any way an obstacle.
Eventually, though, Brigham rests his hands on Logan's wrists, stilling whatever motion they were about to partake in. Logan looks up at him, lips red from the attention they've been giving Brigham, who groans at the looks. He appears only a little concerned, which Brigham would address if Logan's hands weren't squeezing into the meat of his hips.
"I need you to sit back down for me, okay?" Is all he says when Logan raises his eyebrows, searching for an answer. He follows instructions, though, placing his weight back into the couch. His legs are spread something obscene, the sweats he'd slept in doing nothing to hide his arousal, with one arm draped over the armrest while the other hand is folded over his stomach.
He looks obscene, quite frankly, and it takes everything Brigham has to not abandon his plans and ride him right then and there.
Instead, he reaches for Logan's now abandoned phone, his own left somewhere in the kitchen, and immediately opens it. He smiles at the notifications, confirming that he was texting his mom, before opening it and pulling up Spotify. Logan gave him a look, but just spread his legs a little wider as he slouched into the couch.
Brigham steps back as the guitar for Jingle Bell Rock starts, motioning for Logan to sit closer to the edge of the couch. He follows, leaning forward a little in the motion, watching intently as Brigham begins to saunter toward him again as the lyrics start. The past couple of days, in the times he had alone, Brigham had watched over the clip from Mean Girls and practiced a little dance to have some idea of what he was doing.
It begins similarly enough, hips swaying as much as he can, hands moving through the air to emphasize the motions until they circle around his waist. By the end of the four or so steps, Brigham is right at Logan's knees. He doesn't make the same arm motion, instead, he raises his arm and drapes the forearm over his head, slowly bringing it back until he's able to run his hand through his curls.
He does squat, hips grinding forward just above where Logan wants it, hands briefly finding their way behind his back to the tops of Logan's thighs near his knees. He sways his hips back again, hands trailing their way up his torso, flicking the hem of the skirt on their way. It flashes high enough that Logan catches sight of the panties he's wearing, and over the music, Brigham hears his breath hitch. Brigham grins at that, his arms framing his face once they've finished their journey up.
His head tips back, eyes looking down at Logan, whose hand has moved from his stomach to palm as his cock through his pants. Brigham smirks, which then opens to show his teeth, and shakes his head as he makes eye contact with Logan. He gets the message, and reluctantly removes his hand, rubbing it over his mouth a couple of times instead.
Brigham rolls his hips in a circle, then, slower than in the movie, but still enough to cause a reaction, drops down and slaps the inside of his thighs, but doesn't remove them immediately. Logan is leaning forward again, trying to get closer, though he hasn't tried to touch yet. So Brigham slides forward and places his knees on the couch around Logan's legs. His hands meet Logan's shoulders, which immediately relax under his touch, his forearms fall behind them, gently wrapping around the man.
Logan takes that as his cue, grabbing at the small of Brigham's waist. He's gentle in his approach, though there's not a moment's hesitation as he tugs Brigham a little bit closer to him. But the music is still going, and he remembers that this is the part where he's supposed to circle his hips. So he does, Logan's hands providing no resistance in the motion.
The man below him groans, though Brigham isn't sure if it's at the sight, or the fact that he's getting more contact than he had been until this point. It's nowhere near enough, they both know, but Brigham can feel that he's fully hard at this point, so he takes pity, and grinds down in a slow, purposeful way that arches his back further into Logan's hands.
Behind him, Brigham's aware of music still playing, but Logan’s hips are twitching up, and he’s tossing his head back, so suddenly everything else seems to disappear around him.
"Babe," Logan says, breathless. His eyes are barely peeked open, his mouth still red from their kissing earlier, as well as the pressure his hand had been putting on it. Brigham doesn't dignify him with a response, not yet, at least. He just grabs the base of Logan's hair, and angles his head up to look at him, before slamming their lips together.
The grip on his waist tightens, then, as Logan matches his energy and tugs him down entirely into his lap. Brigham lets out a strangled moan, but Logan just quiets him by licking into his mouth as his body presses up into Brigham's.
They continue for a few minutes, even as the song behind them fades into some other pop Christmas hit. It doesn't matter though, not when Logan is making soft noises through his breathes, still loud enough below him to drown it out, and not when they have their own push and pull for a rhythm that doesn't need a soundtrack.
Eventually, Brigham pulls back, a little kiss-drunk. Logan's not in a better state, the slight flush he'd sported earlier in full effect now, red on his ears and his cheeks and down his neck. He's moved his hands down to Brigham's ass, underneath the skirt, fingers having dipped under the lacel. He kneads at the flesh, thumbs spreading him, keeping Brigham right where he wants him. Brigham smiles, and leans forward so that he's flush against Logan's ear.
"Press a little further, love," he whispers. Logan follows, fingertips tapping on the flared end of the plug. It’s not enough for any real movement, but does works as a reminder that he doesn't need. Logan freezes beneath him, breath stuttering for a moment. Brigham smiles, and places a kiss and drags his teeth along the curve of his jaw. "Merry Christmas."
Logan presses on the plug again, purposeful this time, now that he knows it's there. He nods as he begins kissing down Brigham's neck again, mouth open and wet against his skin. As he gets to a mark he made before, he licks around it, nipping the area for emphasis, pulling a whimper out of Brigham.
"Merry Christmas indeed." He seems in no hurry to undress himself, which simply will not do by Brigham's standards, so he reaches down to pull at the bottom of his shirt. Logan's stomach is taut, and Brigham allows himself the privilege of running his fingers over his abdomen, nails tickling the man just so.
Reluctantly, Logan pulls away to let the shirt be taken off, but quickly resumes the task at hand. Brigham lets him, in no position to be complaining. His legs tighten around Logan's body as he plays with the plug a little more. It's nice, sure, but not the end goal, and Brigham would be lying if he weren't dripping a little too desperate to keep at this pace.
"You want to fuck me in the dress?" He asks, voice airy as his head is thrown back while Logan gives him a particularly well-aimed thrust. "Want me to ride you with the panties still on? Get to feel the lace against your cock as you fuck me?"
Logan moans fully, his hips bucking up against Brigham's own. He rests his forehead against Brigham's collar, eyes squeezed tight as he does the same to Brigham's ass.
"God, you're so good for me. You know that? What did I do to deserve this, huh?"
"You were very good this year," he says, falling just short of a laugh as he says it. Logan groans, and squeezes his ass in response, but lets it go soon after to allow Brigham to get off, and for his sweats to follow suit. It's humorous, the way that the elastic gets caught on the length of his dick, as well as how it springs to attention afterward.
As he's standing, Brigham takes the opportunity to remove the plug, throwing it somewhere on the floor to be forgotten. When he looks back, Logan is sitting sprawled out on the couch, his legs and arms spread wide as they wait for Brigham to find his place within them.
The head of his cock is cresting over his panties, red from lack of attention, beginning to leak precum all the same. He palms himself for a moment, hissing at the friction of the fabric against sensitive skin as he steps forward and into Logan's lap again. Their cocks brush together, lace tugging against Brigham as Logan's cock ruts into him.
It feels fucking good, and Logan doesn't seem to be complaining, so he takes one leg hole and opens it enough to slot Logan's dick through it and rub them against each other. He cups them both from the outside, pressing the soft lace into their skin as he fucks down against his hand.
"Thought I was promised you riding me?" Logan says, half a groan cutting through as he presses up into the curve of Brigham's hip. "Already dressed and danced so pretty for me. Don't you want to be nice to me and finish what you started?"
He's got a hand on the back of Brigham's thigh, fingers digging into his muscles as he demands more attention to his cock, even as he asks for Brigham to leave it alone for the moment. Brigham nods, lifting his hips to let Logan's cock fall from the panties, and reaching a hand into the cup of his bra. Logan gives him a confused look, though it quickly melts into something amused when he sees the bottle of lube Brigham is pulling out.
"Nice and warm, so we don't need to get it ready." He tosses it gently into Logan's awaiting hand. Logan drizzles a little onto his cock, and stroking his dick in slow motions before gathering the excess onto his fingers and getting them into Brigham. He pauses for a moment, before double-checking that it's okay, then sliding two in.
"Prepped myself- fuck. Before you woke up." Logan knows what he's doing as he pinpoints onto his prostate, holding his fingers against it, first getting Brigham to whine, then, as he presses ever so slightly harder, cry out as his hands ball into fists against Logan's chest.
"I know," he says, almost taunting. He pulls his fingers back to the first knuckle before working the third one in, mostly to see if he could. There was minimal resistance, thankfully, but he still made an effort to stretch out Brigham as much as he could while he was rocking back against his hand. "Gotta make sure this is good for you, though."
Brigham just whines in response, hips jerking back and then forward as his dick makes brief contact with Logan's pelvis.
"Please, babe." He's not entirely sure when his brain melted, and any further teasing he had planned went out the window, but he suspects it to have been right around the time that he first began fingering him. Regardless, he can't help as he fucks down onto the fingers inside him, can't stop the noises falling from his mouth that Logan swallows down as they kiss.
Logan does relent, eventually, seemingly too impatient himself to continue any further. Either that, or he finally trusted that Brigham was opened well enough, which he was to begin with, thank you very much.
It's a slow descent, Brigham sitting on his cock. At least, that's what it feels like as the length slides smoothly into him. It's thicker and longer than the plug was, which was intentional, but Brigham groans regardless at the feel of it. Once seated, he adjusts as to put his weight onto his haunches, his hands finding a place splayed over Logan's abs.
They sit there, Logan's chest heaving a bit at the effort to not thrust up, allowing themselves to adjust. The moment doesn't last, however, as soon as Logan starts spouting about how pretty he is, about how good he feels.
His hands are on Brigham's hips, beneath the skirt, his thumbs tucked under the band of the panties. They're pulled to the side to allow access to his ass, but are otherwise sitting comfortably and snug against his balls. Brigham makes eye contact with Logan, who nods as he smiles, and squeezes his hips for added confidence.
Lifting himself up, Brigham nearly pulls entirely off Logan's cock before dropping back down. It's faster than he intended, though that was helped by Logan meeting him halfway. Brigham pushed him back down by the grip on his stomach, letting himself finish at his own pace. Once at the base, Brigham grinds his hips in a circle, mimicking the motion from early.
Logan groans, eyes closing as his hips twitch up again. Brigham continues to bounce, never getting more than halfway up before slamming right back down and staying there for just this side of too long. He can feel Logan's hands on his body flexing with each movement, wanting desperately to hold him still and fuck up into him. But he's not. He's being good for Brigham, who tells him as such.
"Real hard being good right now," Logan says under his breath. Brigham's sure that it wasn't meant for him to hear, but bummer, they're too close for him not to have.
"Yeah, I can feel it," he jokes as he grinds down again, low and slow and teasing enough for Logan to get the message. Logan groans and squeezes his hip, thumb pressing into the muscle, and his abs twitch at the feeling. Brigham just chuckles as he raises himself again, though the full length this time. His hands are still pressing Logan into the couch, keeping him in place.
One of Logan's hands leaves his hip and runs its way from Brigham's elbow down to his wrist, before bringing it up to where he can trail kisses along the circumference. Brigham shudders, pausing for a second at the sight.
This, apparently, was something Logan expected. He, as gently yet swiftly as he could, pulled Brigham off his cock, and twisted him over his body so that he was planting face down into the couch. The hand in his was twisted behind his back a little, but not uncomfortably so. Logan still dropped it in favor of running his hands over Brigham's back; smooth circles that got him to relax a little, had his back dipping into an easier position.
"God, you're so pretty," he whispers, leaning down to kiss between Brigham's shoulder blades, hips flush together. He keens at the feeling, and pushes his ass back as much as he can. Logan grinds against it, pushing the string out of the way again as he moves. "Always pretty, Brig. Always so good to me."
He thumbs at the pucker of Brigham's hole for a moment before entering again, setting a pace that's fast and rough but oh so nice. This angle is easier for Logan to nail his prostate, too, especially given that he's now allowed to adjust as needed. It's got Brigham a writhing, moaning mess all too soon, riled up since he'd awoken.
Logan doesn't seem in a better position, though, his rhythm stuttering a little earlier than usual, but he maintains speed, maintains whispering sweet nothing into Brigham's ear. He's bent over so that his chest is pressed against Brigham's back, and Brigham can't help but wince at the thought of the hooks against his skin. But, his full weight isn't down, and he doesn't seem anything less than entirely pleased, so Brigham allows the feeling of Logan's thrusting to wash through him.
After a few moments, Brigham shifts his weight so that it's bearing centered on one arm, and he uses the other to reach under the panties and begin stroking himself. His eyes squeeze shut, and he tightens around Logan, who groans hoarsely into his ear at the feeling. He doesn't stop moving though, he keeps fucking away, holding on tight to Brigham.
"Fuck," he says, kissing the back of Brigham's hair. "Feel so fucking good around me. Gonna feel better when you come, yeah? You wanna come for me?"
Brigham nods, hand stroking faster as Logan goads him on. He shoves the fabric out of the way of his hand, giving himself access to the full length of his cock. His body bows, chest down, ass pressing up into Logan as they connect at the hips. With his eyes tight, mouth hanging open, and skirt flipped up over his back, Brigham is the definition of lewd.
Logan is a little crazy over it.
Not long after is Brigham spilling over his hand, nearly collapsing as he comes. His arm crumples below him, but his legs manage to hold his weight up for Logan to continue to thrust into. He's squeezing tighter as he comes, and Logan is barely managing to pull out before he's finishing onto Brigham's back.
He manages to not fall on Brigham as soon as he's done, instead pulling his weight back onto his legs. They both take a moment to catch their breath, Logan getting his first. He reaches a hand out to encourage Brigham to let himself lay flush against the couch, let himself drop his weight, and relax his legs.
"Don't turn over. I'll be right back." He says with a pat on Brigham's hip. The music is turned off, then, forgotten entirely until they were done.
When he returns, it's with a paper towel and some water. The glass gets placed on the side table next to the couch, and he's quickly wiping off the cum from Brigham's back, as well as what is salvageable off of the fabric of the dress.
"Here," Logan offers a hand out to Brigham, and helps him move so that he can clean off whatever mess was made by him. Most of it appears to have gotten on his hand, though there's a noticeable splatter on the front of the skirt. Brigham doesn't seem to mind too much as he lets Logan wipe him down, take care of him a little bit.
The paper towel is quickly discarded, the glass of water handed over, and Logan slumps into the furniture next to Brigham, who has situated himself into an upright position. Once the water has been consumed, and is no longer a threat for spilling, Logan leans into Brigham's shoulder, pressing his face into the crook of his neck as he clings to his arm. Their fingers lace together, and Brigham laughs as he moves, allowing for Logan to have a better angle.
He groans, then, muffled by the skin underneath his face. "Where the fuck did this come from?"
Brigham laughs again, his free hand carding into Logan's hair.
"You remember when we went to movie night at Payback and Fanboy's?" It's a reasonable question, all things considered. Those being how Brigham remembered almost nothing from the night aside from showing up.
"You got it from the movie?" Logan removes his head from where it's been nesting, taking the opportunity to look up incredulously at Brigham. He shakes his head, though, pursing his lips a little.
"Got it from you. I think."
"Oh?" He looks confused, but humored enough.
"Well, I got the packages one day. No memory of ordering them, but they were dated to that night- well. Okay. The morning after. But, I remembered the little dancing scene, and Fanboy made some comment about a skirt, and you were really handsy with my thighs while watching. So." He gestured at his outfit, now distinctly less put together than when he had started the morning.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Brig." He sounds amazed, breathless. Brigham might be a little too in love, but he can't seem to find a problem with it.
"It is his birthday today."
"Fuck off," Logan laughs out, pushing Brigham away from his person. Brigham giggles as well, curling into himself a little as they fall upon him. Unable to fake being mad for long, Logan stands up, and offers for Brigham to follow. "Let me help you out of this."
His voice is gentle as Brigham turns around, as are his fingers while they work the clasp and brush the straps off of his shoulders.
"Don't want to show me your bedroom before you undress me?" It doesn't come off nearly as sarcastic as intended, but Logan presses his head between Brigham's shoulders again in an effort to stifle another laugh, so it's fine. "Or do you just hate this so much you have to get it off now?"
"God, no. We're doing this again. Or something similar. Might get you more lacy things. I don't know. My brain's a little fried at the moment."
Brigham turns around, Logan's hands never leaving him. He cups Logan's face, bringing him in for a tender kiss. Without hesitation, Logan follows, stepping up on his toes a little to match Brigham's height.
"Good gift?" he asks between kisses where he can get them in. Logan hums, nodding so that their mouths brush together again.
"Good gift." Logan starts, before pressing another kiss to the corner of Brigham's mouth. "Merry Christmas. I love you."