Page 104 of Knot That Serious

“Don’t,” Beckett warned, and turned away from him to tuck his new shirt in, surprised at the accuracy of the fit. If it weren’t for the suede patches on the jacket, this would be a downright boring suit, in his opinion. Probably on clearance for a reason.

Just as he shrugged it on, Jack leaned into him, nosing at the back of his neck as he reached past Beckett to collect his light blue blazer. The hanger clinked against the metal bar before he pulled away, taking all the air in the room with him.

Beckett sucked in a breath and finally spun to face Jack.

“Oh, Jack…” Beckett said. “It matches perfectly.”

One of the stripes in the pants was the exact color of the blazer. What were the chances?

“You look hot,” Jack said, and Beckett stuttered. “Like a professor,” he said, grinning wickedly and leaning closer to drag a chipped black-painted fingernail down his lapel. “Do you know how to tie a bow tie?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Beckett wasn’t sure if he liked the mischievous little smile on his face. “I do,” he answered.

“Show me. I wanna see the whole fit together,” Jack told him, reaching past him once more to unclip the bow tie from the hanger. He slid the piece of fabric around Beckett’s neck and then reversed their positions so Beckett was closest to the mirror.

With deft fingers he tied it in place, aware of Jack’s intense stare the entire time, over his shoulder, breath warm on the back of his neck.

Fuck, was it hot in here?

Beckett resisted the urge to wiggle a finger between the bow tie and his collar, since he’d just finished tying it.

“I mean, this has got to be in style since it’s on the floor, yeah?” Beckett asked, fiddling with the bow tie. “They had to bulk order these for a reason.”

“You know how it is these days—fashion is recycled. I think it’s a great look on you.”

Jack adjusted it for him, arms sliding around his sides to slip up his torso, groping his pecs as he went north. Beckett snorted at him, but Jack seemed less amused and more… horny, as he pressed them together suggestively.

“Jack, we absolutely are not hooking up in the dressing room,” Beckett scolded, words barely escaping on a breath, lest someone overhear him.

Over his shoulder, Jack pouted at him in the mirror. “But then how am I going to earn my extra credit?” Jack asked, eyes going big and round and bottom lip sticking out.

Beckett reached up to grab the hand that Jack was attempting to slide into his shirt. “Jack,” he hissed on a whisper. “We could get in trouble.”

“Not if I’m fast enough,” Jack whispered back. “No one’s going to know.”

Beckett swallowed, gaze following the length of the door in the mirror, and noticed it was an entirely enclosed room, no door gap at the bottom to reveal Jack’s feet if he…

God dammit, they were going to fuck in the dressing room, weren’t they?

Beckett stepped back, and pulled Jack in front of him. His eyes were absolutely alight as he studied Beckett’s form.

“Take your pants off,” he told Jack. “You can’t stain them before we ever leave the dressing room.”

Jack’s fingers were unzipping himself before Beckett even finished speaking. He had to admit it was… at the very least, flattering that Jack didn’t want to wait until they got home.

Warmth settled in his spine as the idea took root, and he pushed forward to cup Jack’s neck and tilt his head up. Their mouths met, lips slotting together, but Beckett kept it brief. After all, they didn’t have much time.

“Consider this a pop quiz,” Beckett whispered against his lips, and then slid his hands to Jack’s shoulders and pushed.

His eyes went half-lidded, knee cracking as he sank to the floor.

Beckett felt himself start to harden, and yanked at his shirt, untucking it. Jack followed his lead, fingers dragging at his zipper and waistband, pulling him out.

Jack didn’t even hesitate before taking Beckett into his mouth, only half-hard but filling out so quickly on Jack’s tongue he felt lightheaded.

He carded a hand through Jack’s hair, bumping the mirror with his knuckles. As if suddenly remembering their existence, he gasped and yanked his head to the right, watching the reflection. Jack’s jaw hollowed and flexed as he sucked at Beckett, releasing him inch by inch, spitting him out shiny and slick from his mouth. By the time he pulled off the tip with an obscene pop, Beckett was completely hard.

“Quickly,” Beckett warned. “If you want an A,” he added.

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