A shirtless Peter on his bed, in his bed, made all of that time in the shower a waste. Simon sighed, disgruntled with himself, but couldn't help but take note of the way Peter looked at him. He had never been blind to it. That wasn't most of the problem. He was just so sure that he was stuck never getting to have what he wanted for fear of hurting it.

There was a juxtaposition here. Sweet Peter and Peter in those vinyl pants. A little sour. A little dangerous. Simon refrained from wetting his lips and headed over to his closet instead. He had no trouble with leather pants. He had no trouble in mesh shirts either but he preferred his t-shirts and leather jackets. Tossing them over his shoulder, he fished out the smallest pair of male underwear ever and in a mark of cruelty to them both, let the towel drop to step into his dark red jock strap. The elastic snapped against his skin before he pulled on his shirt. The pants would wait until he was dry.

"How're you at eyeliner?"