Everlark at a midnight movie premiere (or at a midnight showing of a cult classic, like Rocky Horror).
“How did you convince me to do this?” Peeta grumbles, shifting in the front seat of my car uncomfortably.
“Hey, you had me at Comic Con just last week.” I wag my finger at him.
“Yea, but you didn’t have to wear a little gold Speedo! Don’t even go there!”
“Come on, Peeta. You’re the perfect Rocky. Who else would you be with that blond hair?”
“Someone who wears clothes. You’re covered more than I am, it looks like you’re wearing a bathing suit.”
“That’s because I’m Janet,” I tell him matter-of-factly.
Peeta grumbles for the rest of the car ride to the theater, muttering under his breath about exposed bulges and spray tans. I guess I could have let him dress up as Riff-Raff, but seeing him in his tight little bottoms makes that thought fly right out of my head.
I pull into a parking space and Peeta hesitates. I reach over the console and grab his head, tilting it towards me so that I can plant a searing kiss on his lips. Our teeth and tongues move together for a few moments before I pull away, leaving him with a frustrated look on his face.
“Come on, Creature of the Night. Maybe I’ll let you touch-a touch-a touch me later,” I tease him with a wink.
He looks down at the growing bulge under the tight gold spandex, nothing left to the imagination.
“Oh, alright, I’ll circle the block one more time, Killer.”