Date: Sat, 6 Jan 2018 15:00:10 -0800
From: Boy Mercury X <boymercuryx@gmail.com>
Subject: The Fit

This story is an entirely fictional work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright
Boy Mercury X 2017.


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THE FIT by Boy Mercury X




1.


Sam didn't expect to ever find himself in a place like Butch Bloom. He'd
previously found himself in a few unexpected places in life, though, and
was pretty good at rolling with the punches. But this place he'd never even
heard of till Max said it was where he wanted to buy suits for the big
day. Sam had his doubts, but he couldn't really say no.


Sam mentioned it to the married guys he was doing some restoration work
for. They were always dressed to the nines and they gave the thumbs up, but
said it would set Sam back. Knowing what he charged them for his work, Sam
had to suppress wincing at what they thought would set him back, but he
knew how to play it cool. Woodhouse Fine Carpentry did pretty well, so Sam
could afford the splurge.


He must be conspicuous in the pumpkin-colored Carhartts, work boots and
snug henley, he thought. He was both the brightest and roughest thing in
the place, with all its dark wood and murky colored menswear. Even the
lighter-colored fabrics seemed more subdued. He wished he knew more about
these things so he could be sure he wasn't being snookered on price, but
he'd never had occasion to fuss about suits.


Butch Bloom was practically empty, with just two other people. One was the
slim dark-haired salesman at the shop desk who acknowledged Sam with a
smile and a head nod. He probably thought his full-body scan of Sam was
discreet, and Sam smiled at that. The other was a lone customer in dark
jeans and shirt, consistent with the colors of this place, bent at the
waist examining jackets.


Sam stepped up and slapped one paw on the jean-clad rear, saying, "Hey
there."


Max stood up, startled. "There you are," he said, regaining his composure.


The salesman looked focused on his work, but his eyes darted up at the ass
slap.


"Sorry buddy," Sam chuckled. He wrapped his strong arms around Max and
buried his nose in the younger man's hair to inhale at the crown and plant
a kiss. How he loved the scent of the top of Max's head. "Got held up."


"It's okay," Max said, wriggling free and shrugging off Sam's kiss.


Ah well, Sam thought. He remembered how he and Max used to walk together
holding hands, and now he could barely touch him without Max squirming.


Still, Max tugged at his sleeve to bring him over to a rack of jackets to
show what he'd found.


Of course Max was right at home in a place like this, with his taste for
the finer things. It had been a source of friction for them now and then,
but every relationship has its rough spots. Sometimes Sam won, sometimes
he'd give in. This would be one of the give-ins, but he still had a trick
or two up his snug cotton sleeves.


"Hi, I'm Jacob," said the dark-haired salesman, stepping out from the desk
and extending his hand.


Sam noted Jacob's hair and beard, dark auburn, were groomed to
perfection. That was craftsmanship, unlike the graying blond scruff on his
own square jaw. He ran his hand through the his own cockscomb of hair and
was reminded it was thinning at the crown. Ah well, he thought, it was good
to be king while it lasted.


He gave a guarded smile and handshake as he sized Jacob up. As their hands
lingered, he observed that although Jacob's suit initially appeared to be a
haphazard pattern of checks, it was something like an ashlar pattern. He
liked that in masonry and had adapted it in some of his woodwork on more
modern structures. His eyes rolled down to the slacks and was surprised at
both the length and the bare ankles.


Jesus, was this the fashion now? Highwater suits and no socks? Well at
least this Jacob had the looks to get away with it.


And Jacob's suit was well cut. Even Sam could see that, and he knew a thing
or two about structure. It showed off how fit Jacob was but without being
cheap or tacky. You could even say it showed some restraint, and Sam liked
that. He knew nothing about fashion, but he knew angles and construction,
and this guy had that down. So fuck the socks and highwaters. This Jacob
would do.



2.


"Well son, looking for a suit for my partner here," Sam said, thumbing in
Max's direction, who was already distracted again by the rows of suits.


Now that he was near forty himself, Sam had taken to calling younger men
son, especially when he wanted a little edge in power.


Jacob scanned Max with his eyes and asked, "Forty regular?"


Max and Sam looked to each other and then back to Jacob and shrugged.


"And are you wanting a traditional suit, or sport coat and dress slacks?"
Jacob asked.


Max and Sam looked to each other and then back to Jacob and shrugged again.


"Okay," said Jacob, a warm smile forming on his angular face. "It's all
good." He stepped up behind Max and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You can
go for a traditional suit in which the jacket and slacks are the same
material. Or you can combine just a sportcoat with a pair of dress slacks
in a different color. If you don't need the full-on suit, I like the sports
jacket and slacks because you can have more fun with combinations. And
you're young," he looked at Max, "so why not have fun?"


"I want that," Max said. "Fun."


Sam's hackles were up and he wasn't sure how much of Max's "fun" he wanted
to pay for.


"Hold up," he said, "this is a big day. It matters to me. Wear
something... suitable." He rarely pulled this sort of card, but added, "For
me."


Jacob reoriented his approach. "So for size," he continued, "jackets have
just one size - like thirty-eight or forty, and that refers to your chest
measurement. They come in long, regular or short, and that's the jacket
length. I'm thinking you're a forty regular. We'll fit to the widest area
and send it to our tailor to take the rest in."


"Send it?" asked Max nervously. "I can't take it today?"


"Not really," Jacob explained. "The slacks aren't hemmed at all. But we'll
tailor them for you. And the jacket too. When do you need to wear it?"


"June twentieth," Sam said, lurching forward.


"Ah, plenty of time," Jacob said. "We'll do it this week." He rested his
hands on Max's delts and squared them with his palms. "Forty regular. I'm
sure."


Sam grumbled to himself, watching Jacob flatter his boy. He folded one
thick arm over the other and absentmindedly fingered his ring, the partner
to the identical band Max wore.


He could hardly resent it that Max got attention for his good looks. It
reflected well on Sam too, in its own way. And he'd made the most of that
kind of attention himself in his younger days. He could almost laugh now,
remembering hitchhiking shirtless from Georgia to San Francisco at age
19. Or when he started up his carpentry business wearing tight t-shirts and
pants that rode so low that his older gay clients could get a peek of his
pubes. It might sound vain, he thought, but he had half a chub now just
thinking of it.


At almost forty he was still beefy - beefier than ever, in fact. But his
belly had some curve to it, not the six-pack from his hitchhiking days, and
his hair was more coarse, what hair he kept anyway. So what if Max was
getting his day in the sun? Sam himself was first in line when it came to
that. From the moment he saw Max, he was in love. He sometimes thought Max
taught him to love. He couldn't begrudge anyone else adoring him.


Jacob ran one hand over a row of suits, his lips pursed and his eyes alert,
landing on one with a jagged black and white pattern.


"Let's try this," he said. "This has an exaggerated houndstooth
pattern. Not everyone could get away with this, but at your age, in your
shape -"


Ouch, thought Sam.This Jacob guy really knew how to add insult to
injury. His own dark good looks added just a little more salt to the wound.


Jacob took the jacket off the hanger and held it out for Max to shimmy his
arms into. How naturally Max took to being tended to this way, Sam
observed. Jacob smoothed the material down, turned Max to face a lit bank
of mirrors, and gently pulled back the excess fabric that would be altered
by a tailor.


"Whoa," said Sam. He held a hand to his chest over his beating heart and
sighed.


In the houndstooth jacket, Max matured instantly. It somehow deepened his
good looks, and his athletic figure and handsome face enlivened the
jacket. Sam wouldn't have guessed it, but they were a perfect fit.


Jacob suggested another to try, but Max was set on the houndstooth and Sam
couldn't disagree even after choking down a gulp after spying the price. It
was the big day after all.


Jacob slid the matching slacks off the hanger and passed them to Max.


"You can change into these in here," he explained, gesturing to a small
room, "and we'll mark them for alteration." He looked down at Max's
sneakers. "And unless you plan to wear the suit with those, I can set you
up in more of a pair of dress shoes so we get the hems right."


Max's absence created a sudden and unanticipated awkwardness.


"So...." Jacob said, "you approve?"


"Well Hell," answered Sam. "He looks like a magazine cover. How couldn't
I?"


Jacob nodded yes. Sam noticed he wasn't quite as young as he first looked,
but more halfpoint between himself and Max, about thirty. His groomed beard
was in full, and the same mahogany color as his hair and eyes.


Jacob bounced gently on his heels, and Sam glanced at his exposed
ankles. It was a crazy look, but somehow intimate to see flash of skin in a
suit.


He flashed back on himself at that age, and some of the revealing things he
wore on the job. An ankle was *nothing* compared to his trademark flash of
dirty blond bush. Just thinking of it now chubbed his cock, and he had to
shift his weight to adjust his tightening briefs.


"The houndstooth is a little bit of a lot," Jacob offered. He pursed his
lips and leaned in close to Sam answered. "But he looks amazing."


Sam's half erection went full hardon.


Son, who exactly are you flirting with here, he wanted to ask the salesman,
standing so near with his breathy voice and his trace of an accent, Italian
or something Slavic.


Sam wondered what that hair would feel like to touch.




3.


Max emerged in the full suit, arms spread wide. He turned down to look at
his feet and the unhemmed slacks that pooled around his ankles.


"Ha," Jacob chuckled. "Now we get to fitting. If we're set on this?"


 He glanced at Sam for approval, which was given with a nod.


"So this is the beauty of tailoring," Jacob said, leading Max up onto an
elevated stand in a well lit bank of mirrors. "We'll get it cut just for
you."


Jacob stripped off his own jacket and set it on a hook. In his shirt and
vest he looked even more fit than Sam had realized. He wasn't heavy with
muscle, but athletic. And the way his vest accentuated the taper from his
broad shoulders to his trim waist was distracting.


"You look in shape," Sam said, before he could edit himself. He tried to
recover, asking, "Sports?"


Crouching down next to Max, Jacob looked over his shoulder to Sam, and with
a smile answered, "Crossfit."


Sam's chest swelled with a deep breath. He imagined measuring Jacob's waist
with his carpentry tape measure and guessed thirty inches. Maybe twenty
eight. His mind wandered to the thought of Jacob sweating it out at
Crossfit. He seemed like he might be hairy under that suit.


"You probably think you're symmetrical," Jacob explained to Max, "but
almost no one is." He eyed the cuff of each sleeve, and made a dash near
the end of one with a square of chalk. "But usually one arm is a little
longer than the other." He rolled in the pant legs to the right length on
Max's borrowed dress shoes, and again made dashes and lines with the
chalk. "That's why celebrities always look so good in their
clothes. They're tailored." Jacob looked up at Max with a smile. "Every
body is a little different."


Sam shifted uncomfortably as his erection twisted his briefs, watching
Jacob down on his haunches with the vest leading to the vanishing point of
his waist. He twisted in place and then turned to loosen his briefs by
taking a few step.


"We'll need a tie," he called out, facing an array of neck ties, ordered by
color.


Jacob responded, still finishing up Max's slacks. But Sam didn't notice
what he said, his eyes engaged by the patterns and colors and silky
textures in front of him.  He ran his rough fingers over them, pressing
gently on each, from blues to green to yellow, orange and... pink. He
rested on a pink paisley.


He wouldn't expect it, but there was something about this particular shade
of pink and the curling paisley shaped that reminded him of finished red
cedar and the whirls and knots in it. He was a big fan of combing organic
live edge wood with clean lines, and thought the tie might have the same
effect with the houndstooth.


"How's this," he asked, turning back to Jacob and Max.


Max grimmaced, but looked to Jacob before responding.


Jacob in turn studied the tie with his head cocked. "It's bold," he said,
glancing back and forth between the tie in Sam's hand and the jacket on
Max. "But... I like it." He smiled. "A lot."


Max exhaled in relief and gave a thumbs up.


Jacob held out a hand to take the tie, but Sam held up a hand as if to say
*I've got this*.


He sidled up behind Max, mindful of how closely he passed Jacob and his
slim figure. He couldn't help but wonder how their bodies would fit
together. Then he thought guiltily of Max and what he'd think of Sam even
having such thoughts, and tried to shake it from his head.


He wrapped his arms around Max from behind to slide the tie ends through
his collar. It had been a long time since Sam had occasion to wear a tie,
but he thought he could pull this off. *Please,* he thought, *don't let me
fuck this up.*


All eyes were on Sam as he looped the tie once, then twice, then under and
over and through again. He bit his own bottom lip, wondering if it would
all unravel when he pulled. Ugh, he thought, what was he trying to prove?
Was this to impress Max, or the salesman?  And why?  Max was cute as fuck,
of course a hot guy like Jacob would take a shine to him. But maybe it
wasn't that *Max* got the attention, but that Max got it *instead*.


Finally Sam tugged the thin end of the tie and slid the knot up into
place. It was snug, and even. Sam could have breathed a sigh of relief, but
played it cool. Fake it till you make it and all. He tucked the tie into
the jacket and patted everything into place. He and Max smiled at each
other in the mirror, and he gave Max a peck on the cheek before releasing
him.


"Thanks," Max said in a lilt that made it sound more like a question.


"I know things," Sam replied, with a shrug. He could feel the anxiety sweat
in his pits. "No biggie."


They all examined Max again and all nodded in unison.


"It's a great look," Jacob said, observing. "And June is a beautiful month
for your wedding."


Sam and Max both turned to Jacob, eyebrows raised.


"Wedding?" they asked in unison.


"Your... wedding?" Jacob asked. "Is it not.... I'm sorry, I saw your rings
and assumed..."


Sam and Max both looked down at the simple sterling bands they each wore on
their left hands.


"You thought I'm getting married to my DAD?" Max gasped. "I'm just
graduating!"


"Valedictorian," Sam smirked. Oh poor Jacob, he thought. This was going to
be fun.


"I thought they were engagement rings!" Jacob said.


Sam and Max watched him, plainly doing mental gymnastics, recounting
everything he'd said to assess just how much foot he'd put in his mouth.


Sam crossed his arms in his best tough guy pose, and Max leaned on him, an
arm around his shoulder.


"Really?" Max asked.


"I just..." Max began. He held up a hand at pointed to indicate where a
ring would be. Then he threw up both his hands and shook his head.


Sam turned to Max with a raised eyebrow, as if to say *Should we take
pity?* and Max nodded yes.


"It's my mom's ring," Max explained. "I started wearing it when she passed
away."


"Oh my God," Jacob groaned. "I'm so sorry."


"It's cool," Sam said, clapping a hand on Jacob's shoulder. "It's cool."


"Well that was bad," Jacob sighed, tapping his own head.


"Really," Sam said earnestly. He locked eyes with Jacob. "It's been a
while. We're good."


"We are," added Max, tapping Jacob with his elbow.


They stood there for a moment, the three of them touching, till their
feelings leveled.


"But I *still* can't believe you thought I was marrying my Dad," Max
scoffed, rolling his eyes.


"Not even in San Francisco," Sam guffawed.


Jacob could take a little ribbing, and it was good to laugh like
this. Really good.



4.


Sam shook his head, still bemused. But now that Max was grown, he guessed
this might happen more often. Dinners out might not look so innocent
anymore to strangers. Holding hands not at all. He guessed it was
flattering that Jacob thought a good looking young guy like Max would be
with Sam, who was twice his age.


None of this was what Sam had in mind when he hitchhiked his way from
Georgia, counting on his low riding jeans and Apollo's belt for rides. When
he landed he roamed The City like it was his alone. He tried women, men,
women *and* men, and quite a few substances. There weren't many sexual
stones left unturned those first years.


When Cass told him she was pregnant he had his doubts, and seriously
contemplated hitting the road again. They'd each had enough action that any
of dozens of guys could have been the father. He didn't see why he should
take the fall, just when his own life was starting. But he knew the baby
was his from the way his fingertip fit into Max's hand just right. He was
sure enough that he asked a buddy to fashion rings and proposed to Cass. It
wasn't what either of them would have done otherwise, but it seemed right.


Genes were funny. A lot of people didn't see the similarity, but to Sam his
boy was his spitting image. It just came out differently in Max's face and
body, he reasoned. And Cass's genes were in there too, which accounted for
his coloring and longer limbed proportions. But the way they laughed, that
was identical, and so was the way they cocked their heads. They were even
the same height standing, even though seated Sam was half a head taller
owing to his longer torso and shorter legs.


He took to being a dad easily, and a provider too, although *family man*
wasn't exactly the term he would have used. He parlayed some basic
woodworking skills and a seductive smile into a job in carpentry, and a few
years later started his own business.


He had to laugh now at how much he counted on his looks when he started
out. He only half knew what he was doing, and counted on his appeal to
older moneyed gay couples for the other half. Fake it till you make it was
his six word business plan, and while he faked it a little muscle show
covered for a lot. He knew how to carry his tools over his shoulders to
make the most of his biceps and shoulders, and how to position himself on
knees to show the sweat on the small of his back and maybe even some ass
cleavage.


He remembered Cass laughing at what she called "the plumber's crack
special". She was practical enough to see the advantage, and if he got a
little action on the job that was okay too. They were who they were, and
the marriage was more about their shared interest in Max than holding each
other to commitments they never would have made otherwise.


By the time Cass passed, Woodhouse Fine Carpentry was legit. It turned out
Sam had a knack for business, was good with his hands and the work spoke
for itself. He hadn't had to cover up for a shortage of skills with a
bounty of muscle in a long time. So long ago he didn't remember the last
time he did.


Now it was Max's turn. He'd go to college in the fall, and everything would
change again.



5.


"Ookay then," said Jacob, "I guess that takes care of my ritual
humiliation." He dropped a hand on Sam's meaty shoulder and asked, "So what
are we going to do about YOU?"


Sam looked baffled by the question, but catching on demurred "Oh no, we're
not shopping for me."


"So what are you wearing to the graduation?" Jacob asked.


*Well that was pretty fucking personal, Jacob,* thought Sam. *Nice pivot.*


"I'm good, really," Sam said, holding up his palms.


"Dad, do it," said Max, helping himself to try on a black jacket.


"I don't really ever need to dress up," Sam replied.


"Maybe you should," Max said, "you might get a date."


Sam rolled his eyes. Getting a date had been Max's refrain ever since he
decided to go away to school.


"I'm just fine," Sam said. "Worry about your own dates."


Jacob watched with arms folded, until Sam looked at him and asked, "What?"


"You're hard to size up," Jacob answered. "I would have thought a regular
from height... but maybe a long in the arms."


"Honestly, I'm good," Sam said, hands up.


"Dad, DO IT," Max ordered without turning to Sam. He looked formidable in
the mirror.


Where did THAT voice come from, Sam wondered. Maybe his boy was more of a
man than he thought.


"The thing is," Jacob continued, "you're a little unusual. Very full in the
chest, broad, but a little... short in the legs."


Sam turned to shoot an admonishing look to Max almost before he
howled. He'd teased Sam before about his bulldog build, and this was too
good to not laugh at.


"Hey, HEY," Sam griped. "No ganging up on the old man, or you'll be giving
your valedictorian speech in your jeans," he said to Max, then turned to
Jacob, "and no sale for you."


"Sorry Dad," Max demurred, "but it was a little funny."


"Nothing funny meant," said Jacob, rustling a hanger off a rack. "There's a
thousand men in this city who would kill for a date with your father, young
man."


Max was caught off guard by that, and not ready for Sam's smirk either.


"Forty four regular," Jacob said, holding the suit up in front of
Sam. "Italian wool. Navy. Contemporary windowpane pattern." He pushed it
forward until Sam took hold and then a moment
longer. "Masculine. Three-piece." He held the jacket open to reveal the
vest inside. "Maybe not what you're used to, but I think you'll like it."


On the last point, Jacob pursed his lips and raised one eyebrow just a
hint.


Heh, thought Sam. Yeah, this was a little more like it.


Jacob held open the door to the room where Max had changed pants, and said,
"We can make this a private fitting."


Max nearly spun around.  "I didn't get a private fitting," he
complained. "I just changed pants in there."


"Sorry," said Jacob, as Sam passed him. "You're still a boy. This is for
men."


Whoa, Sam thought, suppressing a laugh at his indignant son. Jacob could be
sassy after all. But yeah, this was definitely a lot more like it.

"Hey Max," Jacob called in a low voice with the door ajar. "There's a whole
rack of jackets in your size right there, and coats too. And you would
*slay* in the glen plaid single-breasted coat."


"Which one is that?" Max asked.


"You'll figure it out. Dark gray, alpaca. Just try them all. We won't be
long."


Max shrugged and turned to the racks Jacob had pointed out as the door
shut.


"Gray alpaca," he whispered to himself. "Alpaca. Al-paca. Aaaal-paca."




6.


"I did think you were a couple," Jacob said to Sam, easing his back against
the closed door. "No offense."


"None taken," said Sam, hanging the jacket on a wall hook. He liked this
room, with its dim lights and dark woods. "Kind of flattering, if you think
about it."


"Good," said Jacob. "Let's go with flattering." He pulled a white shirt
from a shelf of similar shirts, eyed the size and shook it
out. "Seventeen-inch neck?"


"You got me," Sam answered with a shrug. Sounded about right, imagining his
tape measure, the kind you didn't use on necks. "Army Navy Surplus never
measures me when I'm there."


He hooked his fingers in the collar of his henley and yanked it up, pulling
it over his head to reveal his big pecs and belly. He ran a hand over the
the springy blond hairs on his chest trailing down into his pubes. He
thought he heard Jacob sigh a little.


"Forward point collar," Jacob continued, pulling his eyes up and passing
Sam a white shirt. "The most traditional collar. For a no-nonsense man."


"Not THAT traditional," Sam smirked, sliding his arms through the smooth
cotton sleeves and pulling the shirt closed. "And a little nonsense now and
then is relished by the wisest men."


"Shakespeare?" Jacob asked.


"Willy Wonka, son," Sam answered, surprisingly satisfied by Jacob not
knowing. He'd always liked that line when reading "Charlie and The
Chocolate Factory" to Max.


It occurred to him he hadn't enjoyed much of any nonsense lately, but maybe
that would be changing.


Jacob approached from behind with the vest, letting Sam slide his heavy
arms through before pulling it closed snug in front. He slid his hands
under it to cup Sam's pecs, pulling the shirt into place.


"Isn't that a little excessive?" he asked, the smooth brush of the shirt on
his nipples and Jacob's grip on his tits making his erection strain in his
pants.


"We want the right fit," Jacob answered, sighing as he took his hands off
Sam's chest to button the vest.


"I thought you were... I thought you were putting the moves on Max," Sam
said. He torqued his hips to try to adjust for the insistent bulge
tightening his briefs. He could feel Jacob's breath on the back of his
neck, and the lean arms around his chest, buttoning the vest.


"Max is very attractive," Jacob said, leaving only the bottom button
undone, "but very young."


"You certainly took good care of him," Sam continued, looking at his
reflection wearing the white shirt and dark vest. He looked even more
masculine, with the material pulled snug to accommodate his shoulders and
the heft of his chest.


"I wanted your boy to look good for you," Jacob answered, "naturally."


*Oh did you?* Sam asked with his eyes.


He lifted the jacket for Sam, holding it up like a bullfighter's cape. Sam
snorted and raised his arms behind him. Jacob positioned the sleeves
expertly and pulled them up in one smooth movement. The silky interior
fabric moved smoothly over the swell of Sam's forearms and biceps. He
pulled the collar up and let it drop again, landing in place perfectly.


Sam was struck by his own transformation. He'd never worn anything like
this, not even at his wedding at City Hall. Even with his workpants still
on, he looked fucking world-class. The scruff on his chin seemed
sophisticated, and even his mussed hair looked intentional. The open collar
showed off the blond fur hugging his chest as well as his henley, but the
contrast with the fine material was so much greater even Sam was turned on
by it.


"Very handsome," said Jacob, crossing his arms with satisfaction at his own
work.


"Wow," said Sam. "I guess clothes do make a difference."


"Some people say the suit makes the man," Jacob said, wistfully. "I think
it's the opposite."


"You have quite an eye," Sam sighed, his erection surging at the feel of
the younger man's hand on his lats. "Sized me up just right."


"So let's finish this," Jacob said, swatting Sam's rear. "Drop the pants."




7.


Sam let his work pants drop to the floor, feeling the cooler air on his
stocky thighs and the damp spot on his briefs. He stepped out of the heavy
fabric and into the dress slacks, pulling them up with an airy woosh. He
was impressed by how light they were, feeling almost naked even as he
zipped and buttoned them. In the mirror reflection he could see Jacob's
stare.


"You can try on a few more options," Jacob said, "but this is the one. It's
made for you."


Sam studied himself in the mirror. Fuck, he looked good. Strong.


"I'll take it," he said.


"Just like that?" Jacob asked. "I-"


"Jacob," Sam interrupted, "I'm putting myself in your hands." He focused
his gaze on Jacob's. "Do you understand?"


"I think I do, sir," Jacob replied. He pulled the chalk square out of his
pocket and said, "Let's just mark this for alteration."


He dropped to his knees and pulled the slacks into place, letting his hands
run the length of Sam's thick thighs to his muscular calves. As noted, Sam
had short legs, so the hem would come in a lot higher than the length of
the material.


"I think a half-break on the hem," he said. He felt Sam's fingers graze his
hair, and cleared his throat. "That's not... uh, as on-trend as no break,
but good for a man of your... dimensions."


Jacob dashed the white lines on the slacks, and then on the jacket
sleeves. Sam's fingers lightly rested on the top of his head, lingering too
long to be an accident. Jacob twisted his head and they stayed there. Yes,
intentional.

Taking the cue, he ran a hand up Sam's thick thigh to cup his bulge, and
Sam let out a satisfied sigh. How long had it been since someone did that
to him?


Jacob deftly unbuttoned and unzipped the slacks and let them slide with a
swoosh to the floor. He pressed his face against the swell of muscular
thigh, letting the bristly hairs tickle his cheek, while his hands reached
up to tug down Sam's briefs.


"Uh," Sam murmured, not least because his full-on erection was going to
make it very hard to pull the briefs straight down. "My kid's right out
there."


"We can be *very* quiet," Jacob whispered, kneading Sam's cock and balls.


Ah, what the fuck, thought Sam. A little nonsense now and then, after
all. And when was this going to happen to him again?  He pulled the elastic
of his briefs forward to let his constrained cock stand free and his balls
rest. He jerked them down to a tight squeeze around his thighs, and let
Jacob take them the rest of the way down.


"Okay," Sam whispered in a barely audible hush. "Quiet."


Jacob looked up with a sly smile, his body coiled, and pounced.


On the other side, Max was jolted by the sound of bodies slamming against
the fitting room door.


"Are you okay in there?" he asked.


"Yeah," Sam yelled back through the door, "just tripped... on my pants. All
good."


They waited a few seconds until it seemed Max had moved on, and Jacob
plastered his mouth on Sam's, driving his tongue in. The kiss muffled both
of their giggles, until Sam broke away.


"Quiettttt," he breathed, his lips wet with Jacob's spit.


Jacob nodded and kissed Sam's neck while nimbly unfastening each button on
his vest. He spread his palms on Sam's chest over the white shirt, and the
smooth material stretching over his nipples made Sam gasp. Jacob bit his
bottom lip and wrapped a hand around either side of the crisp collar. He
pulled slowly but firmly, until each pearly button burst, pinging across
the fitting room. His eyes practically radiating heat, he lifted Sam's arms
up over his head, gave a nod, and buried his face under the shirt and
jacket, lapping Sam's matted pit hair.


"Oh fuckkk," Sam groaned, his knees buckling. His ass tapped the door and
he arched his back to lift off it.


"Dad?" called Max.


"It's okay," Sam replied in a confident voice, trying not to shudder as
Jacob latched onto a nipple and sucked.


Jacob's hungry mouth left Sam's tit with a wet smack. He trailed Sam's
belly all the way down to the fat pale cock and king-sized balls nested in
a thick bush of dirty blond hair. Crouching, he ran the flat of his tongue
patiently up the underside of Sam's shaft and then teased at the pale head,
getting a feel for it, before opening wide to take the full length down his
throat in three gulps.


"Fuckkk," groaned Sam, nearly dropping against the door again. *Quiet,* he
reminded himself, *quiet.*


Sam choked back a second groan, but fuck, it was hard to not make a sound
with the head of his cock crammed into a long, tight throat. Jacob wrapped
a hand around Sam's balls and pulled them tight, making it even harder to
stay silent. Were all blow jobs like this, Sam wondered between heaves of
pleasure. He was pretty sure not. It had been a long time, but this
seemed... *exceptional*.


He hated to admit it, but there was something about Max being on the other
side of the door that made it even harder to be quiet. It wasn't just the
idea of being heard. It was the torque he felt between his dad brain at one
end and on the other the heady cocksure feel of being worshipped and
swallowed by this handsome man time was making him crazy.


Jacob worked up a lot of saliva, lubing Sam's wood slick. *Oh God,* Sam
thought, knowing what was coming. He spread his burly legs, pressed his
shoulders back and closed his eyes. Jacob opened his mouth wide and gulped
down on Sam's cock till his lips hit the hairy root, and stayed there. As
Jacob's head bobbed down could hear the sound coming from Jacob's throat as
he slow fucked it, gunk, gunk, gunk.


Sam's eyes rolled back in his head and he thought he'd lose it, but the
doorknob suddenly turned and he snapped to attention, struggling for
traction on the carpet in his stocking feet to push the door shut.


"God damn it, Max," he grunted, his cockhead being teased by Jacob's
swalllows.


"I just want to see," Max said on the other side of the door.


"I'm getting dressed," Sam yelled back, suppressing a shudder.


"I've seen you get dressed before," replied Max.


"Not. Like. This." Sam barked between gasps.


Jacob disgorged Sam's full length and sat back on his haunches. He smiled
with wet lips as he took Sam's slicked meat in his hand for a nice slow
stroke.


"What do you think of this, sir?" Jacob asked, loud enough for Max to
hear. His voice was rougher, his mouth gunked with spit and precum. "It's
more basic, but it works."


Sam looked down, his knitted eyebrows insisting, Really? Are you gonna do
this to me?


"I, uh, liked the other one better," Sam announced. "If it's... avAILable."


His volume rose and fell as Jacob slowly ran his palm under his sensitive
cockhead.


"You should see him, Max," Jacob called out. "He looks amazing."


Sam preemptively braced against the door. Silently he mouthed to Jacob,
Please.


"Actually," Jacob called out, "We're almost done here, Max. Just give us a
minute."


Sam eased up, but to be safe stayed barricading the door with his arms and
legs spread-eagle, his cock bouncing free and his balls slowly rising and
falling as they churned a heavy load of cum. He gave a go-ahead nod, and
Jacob opened wide, gulping Sam down in thirds till there was no more to
swallow and his Adam's apple bobbed down. Fucking *exceptional*.


Sam let one hand glide back to working his own pec, sliding down under the
borrowed shirt and jacket he almost forgot he was wearing. His fingertips
grazed the sweaty pit hair and he let his hips ease into a good pump. He
wanted to go on for a long time like this, with Jacob hungrily taking each
stroke. He wanted this to last forever.


He was so close now, and struggling to keep his ass off the goddamn
door. His paced picked up and he was pounding hard. He could hear that
sound again, gunk, gunk, gunk, and knew it was his meat in Jacob's
throat. He wanted more but felt that telltale tickle in his cock, and tried
to hold it.


He faltered and almost fell against the door but Jacob grabbed fast to it
and pulled him forward. Sam's cockhead suddenly shoved in even deeper and
he felt a wet touch on his balls. He realized Jacob's tongue was lapping up
his hairy balls while his throat muscles worked the whole shaft.


"OHMYGOD," Sam gasped out loud, as his cock swelled and shot his load out
in thick gushes. He felt Jacob clutch at him as he shuddered and rattled
against the door. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! His hips thrust and Jacob gulped and
the door trembled. Fuck, son, Sam thought, the door rattling at his
back. Take every bit, take it all.


His urgent gasps broke into soft sighs and he rested a hand against the
door to settle it, though his heart continued to pound. Well, he'd done
what he could to keep it quiet.


"Dad?" Max asked from the other side.


"It's all good," Sam said, his slick cock sliding out of Jacob's warm
mouth. "It's all good."


Jacob stood and silently pressed up against Sam. When they kissed, their
tongues swirled in the thick gunk of spit and cum. Sam was surprised that
even now, he wanted more.


Sam emerged from the dressing room in the first suit Jacob had picked out
for him.


"That took a while," Max observed, skeptically, folding his arms across his
chest.


"I had a lot to try on," Sam answered. "You want me to look good, right?"


Max noticed Jacob's mussed hair, and that Sam's neck looked flushed. He
leaned in close to his father and could smell fresh sweat.


He answered Sam with a slow *Hmmmmmm*.




8.


"It would be good for you to go out with people" Max said to Sam, as Jacob
prepared a ticket for their suits. "I'm going away in the fall. Empty nest
and all."


"I'm aware," Sam replied, focused on calculating the cost of this
spree. This was more than he'd spent on clothes for a whole year, maybe
two. But they sure did look good, he acknowledged with a smirk.


"You could meet people," Max added.


"I meet people all the time," Sam said. "Don't you worry."


"What do you think, Jacob?" Max asked Jacob.


"Max, enough," said Sam, pulling a card from his fat wallet.


Jacob cleared his throat and turned away from the desk with a half-stifled
grin. He scanned a set of hangers, pulled one off and held it up for Sam to
see.


"Oh no," Sam laughed, holding up his bank card, "you broke the bank
already."


"This one's on the house," Jacob said, sliding the jacket off and holding
it out. "Come on. Try it. It's your size."


Sam reluctantly turned his back and held his arms out, and Jacob ran the
sleeves up his arms. How quickly he'd picked up the motions of being tended
to this way.


He looked in the mirror. Even with his henley, the dark charcoal jacket
looked handsome on him. Maybe better this way, he thought, with his
collarbone and some curling blond fur showing in the open V. Yeah. He still
had it.


"Not too conservative?" Sam asked. "Not too... dated"

"Oh you're going to get dated," replied Jacob, arching a thick eyebrow.


Max's ears perked at this.


"I don't like to take something and not pay for it," Sam said.


"It's an odd piece left from a full suit," Jacob answered with a shrug. "A
remnant, without its partner."


Sam considered this, and nodded. "Okay then. Thanks. But I need to get
square on the rest."


"You pay for that on pickup," Jacob replied, pressing a ticket into Sam's
palm. "If you're happy with the fit."


Sam looked at the ticket Jacob held firmly in his palm, and then back up to
the mahogany eyes. A smile crept across his face and he said, "Yeah, that
sounds good."


As Max studied the two, the evening sun shone in through the shop window,
casting Sam and Jacob in golden light. He could see Jacob's hand on Sam's
containing the ticket, and the easy laughter they traded. His furrowed brow
eased and Max smiled.


Walking away from Butch Bloom, Max observed a strut in Sam's step he hadn't
noticed before.


"That was fun," Max said. "Jacob's nice. Did you think he was nice?"


"Yup," answered Sam. "Seems nice."


"Good-looking too. Fit. Funny."


"Yup."


"A little too well-dressed maybe. For some people."


"Something you'd like to say, son?" Sam asked, eyes straight ahead.


"Just if you liked someone... like that... that would be kind of cool."


"Noted."


"So... Do you like him?"


"Max, that is enough" Sam said stiffly, stopping in his tracks.  He turned
to face Max and then awkwardly looked away. "Yeah. I kinda do."


Max held out his hand and Sam wrapped his own around it. Still a good
fit. They walked on, holding hands the rest of the way.


It felt good to be king.



END