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It starts when they’re out grocery shopping one day. The shelves are ridiculously high, and Geno has to go to his toes to reach the damn Cheerios. Sid would’ve let the incident pass without second thought, like he had so many other times before, were it not for his eyes dropping down to Geno’s ass. It looks even more spectacular than usual, straining and tense with the effort of keeping Geno on his toes. Sid swallows around his suddenly dry mouth and looks away.
Nothing comes of it, though, until a few days later. Nealer’s talking about his latest girl, and how delicious her legs look in heels. Sid’s eyes flit over to Geno without thinking, admiring his long legs spread out wide in front of him. He superimposes Geno’s legs, Geno’s ass over Nealer’s monologue, imagining Geno towering over him in sky-high heels. The image sends a rush of heat down his spine, and he bends over to untie his laces, willing the flush in his face to go away.
The image stays with him, days later, scorched into his brain. Trying valiantly not to feel like a massive creep, he goes into Geno’s closet to gauge his shoe size. It’s not like he’d make Geno wear them if he didn’t want to, he reasoned to himself. It was just nice to have that option, if Geno ever wanted to.
He browses the internet, trying to find a place that doesn’t look too sleazy, cheeks aflame. He squirms a little in his chair, trying to imagine explaining this to Geno. Then he catches sight of shiny black stilettos, four inches high, and his cheeks blaze for an entirely different reason. He swallows hard and shoves his hand down his sweats, stroking himself and biting his lip at the thought of Geno in those heels. He comes quicker than he could remember doing by himself, and blames his purchase on post-coitus.
----
Sid gets a nondescript package in the mail three weeks later, long after he’s forgotten about his temporary foray into madness. He sets it aside on the kitchen counter and resolves to open it later. Geno, who’s chopping up vegetables for dinner, gives it a curious look. Sid shrugs at him. Geno abandons his vegetables to poke at the box.
“Can I?” he asks, gesturing toward the box. Sid waves a hand magnanimously. It’s only when Geno’s cutting into the box with his pocket knife that he feels a cold spike of dread in the pit of his stomach.
“Don’t open that,” he shouts suddenly, leaping for the box. Geno rears back, looking utterly lost. Sid can’t blame him, what with his boyfriend suddenly lunging at him like a lunatic.
“Um,” he racks his brain furiously for an excuse. “It’s... your birthday present?” he tries.
Geno looks genuinely concerned for Sid’s mental wellbeing now. “Birthday’s in July,” he reminds Sid gently. “Is February.”
“It’s my birthday present,” Sid says staunchly, ignoring his burning cheeks. Geno gives him a an exasperated look.
“Sid, you not want me to see, just say,” he tells him, sighing. Sid tries not to seem too openly relieved.
“Right,” he says, nodding briskly. “Right, I’ll just put this away, and. Yeah,” he finishes lamely. He hastily sweeps the box into his arms and moves to hide it in the darkest part of his room, never to see the light of day again. Only Jeffrey snuffles into the back of Sid’s leg, and Sid startles, the box going flying. Geno must’ve cut all the way into it, because it splits open and the nice, shiny heels go skittering across the kitchen floor. Sid freezes in horror.
He nearly flings himself across the room in a desperate bid to get to them before Geno sees, but the huge-eyed look of shock on his face tells Sid he was unsuccessful. And honestly, whoever thinks that Geno’s stupid has no idea what they’re talking about, because Geno goes from surprised to sly in half a second.
“Birthday present for me, hmm?” he grins.
“I wasn’t gonna make you wear them!” Sid blurts out, clutching the heels to his chest. “I was just- it was just an idea. It’s dumb.”
Geno crosses the kitchen, and gently frees the shoes from Sid’s deathgrip.
“Sid want me to wear them?” he asks carefully. Sid can’t tear his eyes away from Geno’s hands, stroking down one heel. Sid shivers, just a little, but he knows Geno caught it by the the way his hands tighten around the shoes. Sid glances up at Geno. He’s- wow, he looks really into it, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. He grins promisingly and ducks down to kiss Sid warmly.
“Sid want, I give,” he mumbles into Sid’s mouth, and Sid can’t help but grin back.
“Yeah you do,” Sid tells him, reaching over to grip Geno’s neck and tug him closer. Geno teases him with a slip of tongue, then pulls back.
“After dinner,” he says primly, then grins mischievously. Sid huffs at him, but lets him pull away to go back to preparing their dinner. He sets the shoes on the counter though, and Sid can’t stop staring, going from the heels to Geno’s long legs, clad in terrible basketball shorts. Geno catches him staring and smirks knowingly at him. Sid looks back, and hopes all the things he wants to do to Geno are written on his face.
By the way Geno goes pink and ducks his head, he thinks they are.
----
Dinner is a short, quiet affair. Geno keeps making distressingly hot faces at him, and Sid can barely taste what he’s eating, he’s shovelling it in so quickly. Distantly he thinks he should be embarrassed. He’d never been so eager for sex before Geno. Then again, he never did a lot of things before Geno.
They finish up quickly and dump the plates in the sink, and Sid barely has the presence of mind to grab for the heels before tugging Geno in for a scorching kiss. Geno groans low in his throat and opens his mouth obligingly. Sid grips his hair tight and fucks into Geno’s mouth with his tongue, Geno’s helpless moaning only feeding his frenzy.
He remembers the shoes still clutched in his hand, though, and breaks off abruptly, lips curling when Geno tries to follow his retreating mouth.
“No, Geno,” he reprimands him softly, feeling his role settle over him like a familiar, well-worn coat. He strokes his free hand down Geno’s cheek, heart pounding as Geno closes his eyes and turns his face into Sid’s hand trustingly.
“I’ll fuck you,” he promises, “but first you have to do something for me.”
Geno’s eyes flutter open at that, huge and dark and hot with wanting. His eyes dart down to the heels, and then back up to Sid’s face, and he nods obediently. Sid couldn’t stop the smug satisfaction simmering in his gut if he tried.
He tugs Geno upstairs to his bedroom, and shoves Geno up against the door the moment he closes it, pressing up against him and grinding his dick into the cradle of Geno’s thighs. Geno pants softly into his hair, crooning in Russian and clenching his fists into the back of Sid’s shirt. Sid mouths along the collar of Geno’s stupid lilac tshirt, running his hands down Geno’s sides and hooking his thumbs into Geno’s shorts. He reaches up for one last wet kiss, and then drops to his knees, shucking off Geno’s shorts as he does. He helps Geno step out of them, savoring the pressure of Geno’s hands on his shoulders as he does so. His hands trembling a little, he takes one of the heels and gently eases it on Geno’s foot. He has to take a moment to gape at it, awestruck at the delicate arch of Geno’s foot, the way it flexes and makes Geno’s ridiculous legs look even longer. He swallows hard at the sight of it, and fumbles the other shoe on as well.
Geno clearly has never worn heels before, and he totters for a moment before the heavy warmth of his hands returns to Sid’s shoulders. Sid rather likes the weight of him, unable to stand if not for Sid there supporting him. He grins to himself for a moment, pleased, and takes one of Geno’s knobby ankles in hand, lifting it up to his mouth. Geno flails and nearly topples over, but Sid grasps his other thigh firmly, steadying him. He returns his focus to Geno’s ankle.
A terrible idea comes to him, and before he can think better of it, he licks a stripe up the sole of Geno’s shoe. Above him, Geno brokenly groans out something that might be Sid’s name. Sid takes a moment to feel smug at so easily undoing Geno, and returns to the heels, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the arch of Geno’s feet and his skinny ankles. He gradually moves up Geno’s pale, slim calves, while Geno gasps out Russian curses, or endearments, or both. He takes his time to fully explore the divets of Geno’s knee, licking up the salt of his sweat until Geno’s tremors threaten to send him tumbling to the ground.
He smooths his hand up Geno’s flank, soothing, and Geno takes a deep, shaky breath and smiles down at him.
“Good?” he asks, and Sid feels like his heart might burst.
“I love you,” he tells Geno honestly, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the way Geno’s smile lights up his whole face.
“Good, then,” Geno decides, and Sid huffs and bites down on Geno’s thigh, trying not to smile and failing completely.
Sid resumes his work on Geno’s leg, kissing and biting up the lean expanse of Geno’s thighs until at last he reaches Geno’s cock. He ignores it, much to Geno’s very vocal dismay, and instead decides to thoroughly taste the scrap of skin between Geno’s dick and his thigh. He inhales the musky scent of Geno’s sex, and presses the heel of his palm down hard against his own neglected dick. He gently eases Geno’s leg down, stroking a hand down his thigh.
“Sid, Sid, please,” Geno gasps out thickly above him. Sid presses a careful kiss to his stomach.
“Not yet, Geno,” he says, and he’s a little amazed at how steady his voice is, when Geno’s in heels in front of him, for him, and he feels like he’s about to shake apart.
He doesn’t though, and he takes Geno’s other leg in his hand instead, and repeats the slow process all over again, licking the salt from his skin and leaving a trail of bruises in his wake, marking Geno as his, his, his.
By the time Sid reaches the apex of Geno’s thighs a second time, Geno’s in danger of falling apart, gasping wetly and pleading for Sid, for his mouth, for anything, please. And Sid doesn’t have it in him to deny him again.
He tosses Geno’s heeled foot over his shoulder, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. At the first touch of Sid’s mouth to the head of Geno’s dick, Geno sighs and melts against the door, like just that will be enough, will be all he needs. And fuck, that’s so fucking hot, it feels like Sid will go blind from it. Instead he takes all of Geno he can into his mouth, needing the weight of him on his tongue like an anchor. He feels something sharp pointing hard between his shoulder blades, and realizes with a jolt of lust that it’s Geno’s heel. He likes the sting of it, likes how it feels like it’s pinning him on Geno’s cock like a butterfly on a needle.
Geno’s close, he can tell. He’s probably been close for a while, shaking and groaning under Sid’s tongue and teeth. Sid’s been on edge for a while too, and he thinks he might die if he doesn’t fuck Geno soon. So he cheats a little, grabbing a handful of Geno’s ass (and god, those heels do amazing things for Geno’s ass, not that it needed the help) and squeezing hard. With his other hand he trails his fingers down to Geno’s hole, and rubs his thumb around the rim, dry. He presses the tip of his thumb in, barely at all, but it’s all Geno needs, because he shouts and comes down Sid’s throat, and Sid can feel his leg spasming along his neck and shoulder.
Sid swallows, and lets Geno’s softening dick slip out of his mouth a little regretfully. He loves sucking dick, and Geno loves his mouth, and things work out pretty well between the two of them. Now, though, he has other plans for Geno, spent and pliable and sweet.
He shifts Geno’s leg of his shoulder and surges upwards, pinning Geno against the wall and kissing his slack mouth demandingly. The height difference between them must look comical now, Geno bent nearly in half to reach Sid’s mouth, but Sid loves it. He rocks forward, desperate for friction, and Geno whines when he presses up against Geno’s oversensitive dick. Sid thrusts up against him a few more times, then forces himself to settle. He’s waited this long, he’s not going to come in his pants like a teenager.
Geno’s useless right now, so Sid has to practically drag him over to the bed. He goes down willingly, though, and tugs Sid down for another kiss. Sid presses Geno down into the mattress and claims Geno’s mouth in a hard kiss. He loves Geno like this, loose-limbed and clumsy with orgasm. He shifts off just enough to remove his and Geno’s shirts, then ducks back in, running his hands down Geno’s sides as he sucks dark bruises along Geno’s collarbone.
He rolls off Geno, and nearly falls off the bed trying to wriggle out of his pants. Geno laughs at him, that dumb, happy laugh that makes it impossible for Sid to feel angry or embarrassed.
Geno’s laughter fades away when Sid rubs his hand over Geno’s soft dick, and he makes a tiny choked noise and thrusts up into Sid’s grip, then writhes away, like he can’t even make sense of what his body’s feeling. Sid’s own cock feels like it might fall off if he doesn’t get on with things, so he lets up on Geno’s twitching dick, and waits for Geno to open his eyes again.
“Can I?” he asks Geno, and he hopes Geno knows what he means, because words seem impossible right now.
Thankfully, Geno does, because he smiles up at him, dreamlike, and says, “Anything.”
Sid beams back at him, and then turns away to fumble through the bedside drawer for the lube. He makes a mess of the sheets, spilling lube all over his arm, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He seats himself between Geno’s long, stupid legs, and pushes Geno’s knees to his chest. He has to grip himself tight at the base of his cock, because he thinks he might come just at the sight of Geno alone, bent in half, heels in the air.
“Next time I’m putting you in panties,” he promises without thinking, and then has to take some deep breaths, because he really might come at that. Geno approves of the idea as well, if the wordless groan he makes is any indication.
He makes a game of prepping Geno, making him moan and squirm on his fingers, waiting until he breaks to fuck him.
“Sid, come on,” Geno gasps out, and Sid can’t think of any reason to wait a moment longer. He slicks himself up quickly, lines himself up with Geno’s ass, bare and waiting for him, and finally pushes in. Geno’s hot and tight around him, and Sid’s not going to last.
“Think you can come again?” he gasps out between thrusts. Geno huffs a laugh at him.
“No,” he says firmly, but his eyes are gleaming and well, Sid’s never been one to back down from a challenge. He shifts a little, pushing Geno around to get a better angle. Then he slams back into Geno, and Geno lets out a strangled shout, sliding up the mattress. Sid smirks down at him, breathless but definitely going to win, and reaches between them and starts jerking off Geno’s now half-hard dick in time with his thrusts.
“Still think you can’t come?” he laughs. Geno’s beyond speech, but he still manages an impressive glare, albeit one weakened by him tossing his head back and letting out the filthiest sound Sid’s ever heard. Sid tightens his grip on Geno’s dick, and Geno sobs out his second orgasm, jerking uncontrollably under Sid.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sid babbles and grabs for one heeled foot and sucks at the knob of Geno’s ankle, thrusting more frantically than ever. Geno’s just making tiny whimpering noises now, overstimulated out of his mind, and Sid’s so close, so close, he’s-
“Sid,” Geno gasps out, a wet, broken sound, and Sid’s coming hard, gripping Geno’s ankle tight enough to leave marks.
He collapses on top of Geno, petting his hair with leaden arms, feeling Geno shake under him. He shifts to get off Geno, but Geno’s legs wriggle around to link around his waist, locking him in place.
“Stick around,” Geno jokes breathlessly, eyes still closed. Sid grins and settles back in. They cool down together, settling into the afterglow.
After a few minutes, Geno sniggers a little to himself. Sid makes a questioning grunt into Geno’s shoulder, and doesn’t bother lifting his head.
“Sid wear heels, next time,” Geno tells him, sounding pleased with himself. Sid rubs a hand blindly along one of Geno’s arms.
“Whatever you want, Geno,” he mumbles. “I was serious about the panties, though.”
“Mmm, panties,” Geno hums. “Good plan.”
“Obviously, I thought of it,” Sid tells him, smug. “My plans are the best.”
“Yes, dear,” Geno tells him mockingly, and Sid snorts and lets Geno’s rumbling laugh lull him to sleep.