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“Were you a good girl?” Eddie growls into his ear.
Waylon whimpers, eyes glued to the door of the tiny closet they’re in, voices just outside. They’re mostly hidden, obscured by heavy winter coats, but if someone decides to leave the reception early and comes to fetch one, they’re going to be found out. He still can't help but roll his hips helplessly, his cock pressed almost uncomfortably tight against Eddie’s thigh.
“Yes,” Waylon whines. “Remember? When I became your wife, I promised to obey you.”
“That’s right,” Eddie growls, biting at Waylon’s jaw. “Always so eager to do just as I say.”
His hands tug at Waylon’s belt, working it open. The button and fly of Waylon's slacks follow moments behind.
Waylon whimpers when Eddie gets one large hand down his pants, cupping his cock through the lacy panties Eddie had asked him to wear. Waylon’s been getting used to wearing them at Eddie’s behest when the two of them are together, but wearing them in public , even though it’s just their little secret, has had Waylon on edge all night.
"That's it," Eddie praises, his voice so deep it's more sensation than sound. He rubs the heel of his hand firmly against Waylon’s cock, making the smaller man jerk and moan. "That's my girl."
Waylon hooks one leg over Eddie's hip, trying to drag his boyfriend closer. He bites his lip when the door opens. Music and conversation float in, and Waylon holds his breath at the rustle of cloth as another coat is hung up in their tiny refuge.
He rocks against Eddie’s hand because how could he not ? The feel of the lace against his skin, the pressure of Eddie’s hand on him, the illicit thrill of other people mere feet away from their hiding place are all serving to drive him wild. The door closes with them undiscovered, and Waylon’s breath rushes out of him.
He really, truly hopes they’re not found out. They might not be, at least, if he can keep his voice down. Eddie kneels in front of him, smiling wickedly. Waylon braces himself against the wall, grits his teeth to hold back the noises that want to burst out of his throat as Eddie takes the edge of his panties between his teeth, pulling them away and down. He’s so close Waylon can feel warm breath puffing against his sensitised flesh, making him squirm.
“Go on, darling,” Eddie says, leaning in a little closer so that his lips almost brush against the exposed tip of Waylon’s cock. “Tell me how much you want me to play with your sweet little clit.”
Waylon’s hand flies to his mouth to stifle a moan. “Please,” he says, but it won’t be enough, not for Eddie. Waylon lowers his voice even more, almost whispering. “Please play with my clit, Eddie.”
“Well, when you ask so sweetly,” Eddie says, and the touch of his tongue threatens to have Waylon bring the whole party down on them.