Epilogue

"Darling? Have you seen my new black belt?," asked Eddie, frowning down on the bed. He had laid out all of his belts—but none were the one he sought.

Within a minute, Waylon walked into the bedroom wearing his favorite dress, red with black piping around the edges. Eddie gifted it to Waylon for his fake birthday. His face was pale.

"I just realized something," said Waylon, frowning. "That wall, between the bedroom and the living room, is really thin. I was sitting on the couch, and I heard you as clear as day through the wall."

"Ah," said Eddie, turning his attention to the bed, to avoid showing his discomfort. "Yes. The wall is very thin. Are you really planning on wearing that?"

"Yes, I'm wearing this, what's wrong with it," asked Waylon, jutting out his hip and crossing his arms. Over the years since his memory incident, Waylon's hair had grown out longer, and some of his blond bangs fell over his eyes, obscuring his glare. He huffed, blowing some of the strands out of the way, only to have them fall back into place.

"You're going to make it awfully hard for me to concentrate on the matters at hand," said Eddie, smirking at the blush that crept onto Waylon's cheeks.

"That's the idea," said Waylon, smiling sweetly, "making you suffer."

"Minx," muttered Eddie, looking around the room, humming to himself.

"Your belt's at the bottom of the hamper," said Waylon. "You left it on your pants, and I dropped it in there."

"You're a doll," said Eddie, beaming at Waylon's still pouting face.

"That wall is really thin, though, did you know?" asked Waylon.

Eddie walked to the laundry hamper, and looked inside. Waylon was right. Eddie had been surprised to find that Waylon had a photographic memory—when he was not suffering from memory loss.

"It's thin, but what does it matter? We're moving in a few months," said Eddie.

"It matters because if you knew that it was thin, then is it possible, that when I was sleeping out here, you might have heard me…um, talking privately?"

"To who? The dogs?" asked Eddie, an awkward smile on his face. "Are you going to wear those shoes though? What about your new red flats?"

"You're really avoiding this, and it's making me very suspicious," said Waylon, raising an eyebrow. "You're right though." He canted his eyes down to his feet, and rocked back on his heels. "The red shoes would be better. I'm changing."

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief. Within a matter of minutes, Eddie was dressed with a pinstriped blue vest and pants over a powder blue shirt. A bow tie completed the ensemble.

"You look adorable," said Waylon, beaming. He changed into red flats Eddie had suggested, and added a red headband in his hair.

"That's my line," said Eddie, moving to pull Waylon into his arms for a hug. He pushed his nose into Waylon's blond hair and inhaled. He felt a knee press against his groin. The fabric of pants and skirt rubbing together enticingly. "You're shameless."

"Mmm, you're too easy Eddie," purred Waylon, pulling away just enough to smirk at Eddie's agitated expression.

"This really isn't the day to be teasing me like this," said Eddie, pushing Waylon away.

"Scared you'll have a boner in the press release photos?" asked Waylon, smirking. He took a tentative step closer, and Eddie felt a hand slide along his belt, hooking behind the waistband of his pants. "Isn't there something important you want to tell me?"

"It's important that we leave right now, we're going to be late," said Eddie, retrieving Waylon's hand, and pulling him out of their bedroom. It took a few moments for Waylon to feed the dogs.

Sebastian, Biter, and Stinky lined up, and sat in their position, tongues lolling out. Their ears and eyes became alert when Waylon reached for the treats.

"Oh, you're all such good boys, and Stinky, you're a good girl…"

"She's alright," grumbled Eddie.

"She's good, all my babies are good, so good! Aren't you babies?!"

"We're going to be late…"

"Fine," said Waylon, skirt swishing as he walked out the door.

"You look nervous," said Waylon, once they were in the car and driving toward the shop.

"I'm not," said Eddie, staring at the road, hands at ten and two.

"Oh, stop that, you know you can't lie to me," said Waylon, grinning. "I know all the telling signs of you lying. At least watching you lie to me for four months straight had some benefit…"

When they arrived at the shop, Dennis was already waiting in the parking lot. Waylon walked into the shop to prepare for the day's paying customers.

"They're the only ones here so far," said Dennis. He jerked his head toward the red jeep, parked out of the way.

"Miles," said Eddie, putting on a fake cheery smile. Miles Upshur walked over, accompanied by his gloomy coworker. "Good to see you."

"Sure," said Miles, scanning the parking lot. "You guys are going to have a parking situation."

"There's more parking in the back," said Eddie.

"Yeah, that's filling up too," said Miles. "Where's Waylon?"

"He's dealing with the customers today," said Eddie. "I am going to interact with the press."

"I already walked in, and checked out your dresses. They look good. As long as you're ready, my assistant has some questions, I'm going inside to find Waylon," said Miles.

"I'm not his assistant," said Trisha, pushing her red frames up on her nose. They had no lenses. She made a disgusted noise as Miles walked away.

"Tough boss?" asked Eddie.

"He's not my boss, we were hired at the same time," said Trisha, rolling her eyes. "He thinks he's the lead reporter because he's older, and has more experience, and published stories in national publications, and he owns the car."

"Uh, so, you two working together full time now?" asked Eddie.

"Well, he needed help, since his big article for for Time got approved, and he's busy running all the variety stories for the Tribune."

"Do you like it better than the Post?" asked Eddie.

"Yeah," she said, with a shrug. "I guess it's alright. I just wish I wasn't the one forced to interview all the weirdos."

Eddie's eyes darted back and forth a couple times. Wait, did she mean…

"So…Mister, uh, Glue-skin, what's your inspiration for this new line of wedding dresses? Everyone's all stupid excited for them, and I don't see the appeal."

"I didn't think they would ever leave," said Waylon, groaning. "What a day. The press is good news for your new line, though."

"Yes, we'll see, even if it's not a success, the shop is still filled with customers, thanks to you of course," said Eddie.

Waylon shrugged, staring at the stack of papers he needed to file. On the corner of the desk, he had placed a familiar book. Eddie was busy putting the shop back in working order, after the press parade. Waylon flipped through the familiar pictures.

"Do you ever wish I was still Wayde?" asked Waylon.

"What?"

"Do you ever wish that, I was like I was back then, when I had no memories, and no baggage, and it was just, easy, and…"

Eddie appeared from behind some of the mannequins, and frowned as he approached Waylon's desk. He stared down at the book and sighed. Waylon had left it open on the pictures from his fake birthday party.

"Never," said Eddie, reaching for Waylon's hands. "You're the only one I want. The one who has helped me, and been by my side, worked with me, accepted me despite all my many flaws…"

"I just think, sometimes, maybe you have trouble remembering, or confuse the two, like maybe confusing important dates, or forgetting that we were never married…"

"It's been a strange situation," said Eddie, "and I admit, I do think on those times, occasionally. I don't miss them, but I remember them fondly. That's when I fell in love with you. Isn't it fine to think back on good memories?"

"Yes," said Waylon, smiling as he closed the book. On the cover, he had written, in decorative lettering, "In memoriam." A fitting tribute, to someone who was no longer around. Soon after Waylon moved in, they had begun a new album of their own memories. A fresh start.

"Let's go to the Shack," said Eddie.

"No, I'm tired, and not feeling up to it," said Waylon, sighing as he slid the book back under the counter where it always sat.

"You'll feel better once we see the guys, and eat some food," said Eddie, staring into Waylon's eyes until he had to crack a smile.

"Fine. But just for a little while. I don't want to stay out late."

The Shack was always crowded on a Saturday, but that day seemed more crowded than usual.

"I wonder if some of the visitors stayed in town, and came to the Shack," said Waylon, as they walked into the restaurant. "Pam will like that, if our business brings her more customers!"

"Indeed," said Eddie, a secret smile on his face as he held the door open for Waylon.

"SURPRISE!"

"Are you fucking kidding me," said Waylon, turning to glare at Eddie. The crowd was too busy cheering, and raising beer bottles to hear. "You knew it was my birthday?"

"Of course, darling," said Eddie, smirking.

"But you didn't anything all day!"

"That would ruin the surprise," said Eddie.

"I really thought you'd just forgotten, or maybe you still thought that Wayde's birthday was my birthday…"

Waylon's pout was adorable, but the way his eyes were glinting was not. There was trouble brewing. Eddie hoped the party would make up for any irritation Waylon felt. "Come on, Pam will be sad if you don't come in, and eat."

Waylon smiled when he noticed a familiar face. "Miles!" Eddie followed Waylon to their usual table where Miles was currently seated between Chris and Frank.

"You stayed in town, for the party?" asked Waylon.

"Well, yeah, Eddie told me about it, that's why we scheduled all the press stuff for this morning, so I could be in town," said Miles.

Waylon stared over at Eddie. "You went out of your way to plan this in advance, so…so Miles would be here?"

"It'd hardly be a birthday party without your best friend," said Eddie.

"You know, I actually thought, you two didn't like each other," said Waylon. Eddie's response was a polite smile.

"Miles is…a driven man," said Eddie. It was the only compliment he could earnestly give the loud mouthed reporter. Since Waylon' return, Miles was a frequent visitor, and still pissed about the runaround he had received when searching for Waylon. Not to mention everything that followed during Waylon's absence.

"I can't believe this is the shrimp that was threatening me over the phone," said Chris, exhaling as he brought his beer up. Miles just leveled a flat stare.

Eddie looked around, until he finally spotted Dennis standing near the table, his back to the group. Eddie walked until he was directly behind Dennis.

"Yeah, it's a small town, sure, but, somebody's gotta run it," said Dennis. Eddie clapped a supportive hand on Dennis' shoulder causing him to jump slightly. "Oh, hey Ed. This is my best friend, Eddie, he's a big deal, you've probably heard of him."

"I interviewed him earlier," said Trisha, glancing up at Eddie through her empty frames.

"Everything's in order?" asked Eddie.

"You got it, bro," said Dennis. "I made sure Frank brought an actual cake this time. Pam's already got the food ready to go, should be bringing it out in a second. Drinks are free for the group, so just relax, have a beer."

It was easy to relax at the Rib Shack. The food was familiar, the beer was cold, and Waylon was laughing with the group. Pamela had hijacked the music to make sure nothing but the Dave Matthews Band played all night. More than a few customers complained.

Waylon practically glowed in his red dress. Eddie would catch himself going quiet at the table, only staring.

When Waylon would catch him staring, his eyes crinkled as he held in a smile.

Soon, it was time for the cake and singing. Eddie was relieved, when Frank brought out an actual cake box, from a bakery. He opened it, revealing a sheet cake with white and blue frosting. And a giant uneven piece missing.

"Dammit Frank," said Eddie, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What, I didn't do…Oh, wait, no, sorry, I thought I'd dreamed that," said Frank. Eddie stared down at the cake that read, 'Happy Birth.'

"Well, it'll have to do," said Eddie pushing in the candles and lighting them. The crew all sang for Waylon, as well as several drunk customers around the bar. Pam came running over from behind the bar to join in. The song reached cacophonous levels, as the crowd held out the last syllable drawn out for good measure.

"This is from me, man, I hope it fits," said Frank, sliding a large square box toward Waylon. Inside, was a white motorcycle helmet with bright red and blue stripes down the sides, and some airbrushed flames for good measure.

"Ah, it's perfect," said Waylon, laughing. "I mean, if I get tired of my black one, this is a nice, change of pace…"

"And you'll look more like a daredevil," said Frank.

"My gift," said Miles, sliding an envelope across the table. Waylon opened it, reading for several minutes before looking up at Miles.

"I thought you hated hiking?! You did nothing but complain on the trip…"

"I do hate hiking. Those are for you and Gluskin. Take him hiking for a week and let's see how he likes it," said Miles, muttering as he took a long drink. "Maybe you can meet up with my old pal, Mark."

"A trip for two to the Canadian rockies, it's a tour group that specializes in hiking trips, I've always wanted to go to Canada," said Waylon, the words bubbling out as he gripped the envelope and smiled.

"Yes, hiking, fun," said Eddie, throwing a side-eye glare at Miles. The smirk on Miles' face was obnoxious.

"I hope you like mine, bro," said Dennis, sliding a flat present toward Waylon. "I had to fight pretty hard on an online auction to get it for you."

Waylon's brows were creased as he pulled off the paper, and stared at the back of a picture frame. He turned it over, and slowly turned a long suffering glare at Dennis.

"What? It'll look great in your new office," said Dennis, grinning.

Eddie peaked over Waylon's shoulder at a framed picture of Jackie Chan. It was autographed. "To Phil, with love, Jackie Chan."

"You're a jackass," said Waylon, unable to hold back his smile any longer. "I'm totally putting it in the main area, back behind the register, where you work, so he can watch over you all day."

"Cool with me," said Dennis, grinning.

"You're ready for my gift, then?" asked Eddie, smiling at Waylon. He retrieved a large, white box with a red, silk bow that looked hauntingly familiar.

"I wonder what this could be," said Waylon, smirking as he untied the ribbon and opened the box. He stared in confusion down at a mess of tissue paper. He was about to open his mouth, when he spied a tiny box tucked away.

Eddie watched Waylon's face. Only his face. He saw the way his breathing hitched when he noticed the box, and the color draining from his cheeks. When he brought the smaller box up close to investigate, his hands shook slightly. He pressed his mouth into a line and opened the box.

And he stared for several seconds, before turning to look up at Eddie-and finding him down on one knee, instead.

"Darling, would you do me the honor, of becoming my…"

The proposal was cut short, when Frank pressed all of his weight on the flimsy table, and caused the remainder of the cake to slide to the edge. There was a tense second before it began to tip.

"I got it," cried Frank, as he dove after the cake. He managed to land on the ground at the same time as the cake, getting splattered in the process. Frank tried to stand up, but found himself staring up a woman's skirt.

"Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me, you dirty old man," said Trisha, pouring her beer on top of Frank's head.

Pandemonium followed. The mess was tremendous. Miles had to pull a livid Trisha out to the parking lot, to keep her from attempting to fight Frank for ruining her new shoes. Dennis and Chris were on crowd control, since the huge commotion had drawn the rest of the restaurant's eyes. Eddie and Waylon merely sat in the middle of the chaos. Waylon reached for Eddie's hand, and squeezed.

By the time everything was back to normal, Waylon was saying a long goodbye to Miles in the parking lot, and Eddie was shaking his head, as he stared at his friends.

"It was an accident, man," said Frank. He reeked of beer.

"I recognize that, but even so, you managed to make it worse," said Eddie.

"I didn't even get a piece of cake, and you chased off that chick," said Dennis, glowering at Frank. "I was going to get lucky."

"No, you weren't," said Waylon, walking back over.

"How do you know?" asked Dennis. "Lots of girls are attracted to guys with shaved heads. We look dangerous."

"Yeah, but that girl, is sleeping with Miles," said Waylon.

"But, earlier, she seemed to barely be able to stand working with him," said Eddie, staring at Waylon to see if he was playing some joke.

"Yeah, she's weird, that's like foreplay to them. I hope it doesn't work out," said Waylon. "Miles doesn't usually stay long in relationships."

"Not like you guys, getting married," said Frank. There was still a considerable amount of cake and icing in his beard.

"I never really got to answer," said Waylon. "I think I might withhold my answer for a little longer. Serves you right for springing this surprise party on me…"

"Stop by the shop, I have to put away those order forms from today," said Waylon.

"You're in a good enough state of mind to do filing?" asked Eddie.

"I didn't drink that much," said Waylon, grinning. "I was too busy enjoying the company. It was a nice party. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I was worried, all day," said Waylon, leaning his head against the truck window. Eddie glanced over in time to see a passing street light illuminate his face. The car drifted slightly before he tore his eyes away from the ethereal scene. "I thought, maybe, you didn't know the basic facts about me. Maybe you still had Wayde Gluskin's birthday marked on all the calendars."

"I don't consider you Wayde Gluskin, I've always known you were Waylon Park," said Eddie, pulling into the shop's parking lot.

"Is that why you always call me darling? To avoid using my fake name?" asked Waylon, grinning as he opened the door.

"No, I call you darling, because you're darling."

Waylon walked straight to the back of the shop. The office he shared with Eddie. He reached for some paperwork. He was scribbling away at some note as Eddie stared around at the renovated shop.

The walls were freshly painted, and the showroom was much larger and filled with mannequins dressed in examples of Eddie's work. There were two areas, partitioned off, where Waylon and Dennis met with customers. The register was brand new. State of the art, even.

But Eddie's favorite part was how in every nook and corner, Waylon had decorated shelves filled with tiny treasures from Eddie's hoard. The house was completely cleaned out, just in time for them to move to a larger house—together.

The backroom had doubled in size, and a large room installed, which operated as their conjoined office. There were two desks, comfortable office chairs, and another table to the side with sewing equipment. Eddie sometimes needed to work, while he performed his clerical duties.

Eddie took a seat at his desk chair as he waited. He was content to watch Waylon leaning over the table, working.

"Done," announced Waylon. He walked to where Eddie was seated, and touched his shoulder. "You know we never fully christened this new office, the way we did the last one…"

Waylon leaned over and slid his hands down Eddie's chest. Lithe fingers toyed with the buttons on his vest, and mapped out the defined muscles of his chest.

Eddie sighed into the gentle caress. "We should hurry home, I want to give you the rest of your present…"

"Ooh," said Waylon, grinning. "What if I can't wait to get home to unwrap it?"

The hand that had worked its way down Eddie's chest ventured lower. A rumbling growl reverberated in Eddie's chest as he looked at Waylon's face. His face was always one of childlike wonder when he was touching Eddie, even after years. Eddie chuckled and leaned back in his chair, legs falling apart. He patted his thigh.

Waylon sat in Eddie's lap without hesitation. A hand flew to Eddie's belt that he had helped find that morning. His fingers were quick. Eddie gave a sigh, when Waylon finally undid the zipper, and shoved a hand down the front of his pants.

"I thought you were trying to make work a 'sex free' zone," said Eddie, struggling to keep his voice level. Waylon smirked, fingers wrapping around Eddie through his underwear. He squeezed as he moved his hand up and down.

"You discussed that, because you were getting behind on your sewing," said Waylon, leaning in to place a light kiss on Eddie's jaw.

"You were tantalizing me on purpose," said Eddie, narrowing his eyes. His angry expression dissolved when fingers squirmed under his briefs.

Waylon had practiced often. He knew the exact way Eddie liked to be touched. Eddie found it impossible to sit quietly. Waylon's fingers milked out droplets of precome hethen spread around with his thumb.

Eddie let out a whimper, and Waylon's smug grin was immediate. Troublesome. But there was nothing Eddie could do in his current state. He bucked up into that grip. It was not tight enough. Waylon was giving him enough to entice, but not enough for relief.

"If you keep teasing me like that, I can't be held responsible for my actions," said Eddie, leaning in to nip at Waylon's neck. His skin was heated under Eddie's mouth, and he couldn't resist laving the area, sucking slightly before pulling back.

Waylon chuckled, his movements remaining consistent, yet slow. Drawing out long tortured exhales from Eddie. When Eddie would press up, Waylon would just tsk and cease his movements until Eddie behaved.

But soon it did not matter. Waylon in his lap, stroking his cock, never failed to get Eddie off. Especially when Waylon was watching his face intently, one hand working his length while the other rubbed at Eddie's thigh.

"Tell me when you're close," said Waylon, his voice breathy and low. Eddie moaned, head dropping back. If Waylon was so determined to see him make a mess in his office, Eddie was prepared to give him what he wanted. It was his birthday, after all.

Waylon's hand moved easier with the aid of so much precome dribbling out in a stream. Eddie's eyes closed as he concentrated on Waylon. The slide of his hand, his body weight in Eddie's lap, and the familiar scent of his soap. Eddie's thighs tensed, and a broken moan escaped his lips.

"Close, I'm close," said Eddie, the familiar feeling of being at the precipice of a steep drop arrived. But before Eddie would fall over into a pit of pleasure, all stimulation vanished.

The groan that Eddie let out was anguished. It took a few moments to register that his cock was throbbing, leaking fluid without Eddie having felt any release. Eddie stared, horrified, until he caught Waylon's reaction.

"What's wrong, Eddie?" asked Waylon, standing up with a devilish smile on his face.

"Darling, what the, why?" asked Eddie, between breaths.

"Oh," said Waylon, pushing out his lower lip. "Poor thing. I'm sorry, did I ruin your orgasm?" Waylon took a careful step toward the desk, and opened the drawer that contained Eddie's personal effects. They always kept a stash of personal lubricant on hand.

"I'm starting to suspect you did this on purpose," growled Eddie. Sitting in the chair with his cock throbbed. Aching for release.

The self satisfied smirk on Waylon's face confirmed his suspicions.

"You're suggesting I am torturing you on purpose?" asked Waylon. He leaned on the edge of Eddie's work desk, and popped the cap from the lube.

"What are you getting me back for now? Is this because I didn't tell you about the party? I didn't forget your birthday," said Eddie, the words spilling out in one breath. He had to pause to collect himself. Looking desperate in front of Waylon would not help in this situation.

"You let me believe, all day, that you had forgotten," said Waylon, smirking again as he slowly lifted up the red skirt of his dress.

Eddie let out a strangled moan. "Have you been this way...all...all day?"

Waylon nodded.

Eddie growled, and leaned forward in his chair. Waylon only chuckled, and pulled the lube out of Eddie's reach.

"Down, boy! I'm sorry to leave you hurting, don't worry, I'm going to make it up to you," said Waylon. He waited until Eddie gave a frustrated huff, and sat back in his chair, before coating his fingers with lube.

Eddie bit his lip, staring intently where Waylon's hand pressed below his balls and honed in on his ass. A pearl of liquid crowned Waylon's cock. If Eddie's torment could get Waylon dripping without a single touch, maybe it was worth it.

As Waylon worked, Eddie pulled away his bow tie, and unbuttoned his shirt to let it hang open. It had grown entirely too warm.

Their years together had been spent like newlyweds, making love almost every night. It did not take long for Waylon's fingers to slide in and out with ease, working in enough lube. Once his hole was glistening, Eddie lunged forward again.

"Shh, sit down," said Waylon, grinning. He wiped his hand on a piece of scrap fabric from the sewing table, then grabbed at Eddie's pants. Eddie lifted his hips to help Waylon ruck down his pants, and briefs, in one tug. He started to object when Waylon turned his back to him and pulled the skirt up around his waist.

Eddie's mind could only focus on one thing: guiding Waylon onto his cock. He ached for it. Eddie sighed in relief, when his tip brushed against Waylon's entrance. Eddie watched, and Waylon lowered himself in a controlled movement.

A low mewl escaped Waylon when his ass finally hit Eddie's lap. He rolled his hips in a lazy circle, adjusting to the fullness. Eddie reacted by tightening an arm around Waylon's waist, and the other reaching under Waylon's skirt.

"You're a dirty slut, darling," said Eddie, directly into Waylon's flushed ear. "Denying me, when you want it just as bad."

Waylon started to respond, but his words were stolen away. Eddie thrust upwards, causing Waylon to jostle on his lap.

"Careful, this isn't the most comfortable position," said Waylon, though his tone was breathy and light. "Leave the work to me."

And Eddie was happy to oblige. His fingers gripped Waylon's waist, struggling through the thick bunches of red fabric from his skirts. Waylon's ass bounced up and down on Eddie's lap, finally soothing that burning urge remaining from the earlier encounter.

Eddie pressed his face into the back of Waylon's neck, kissing the salty sweat starting to form on his skin. Everything in their relationship was in sync when they were connected. Waylon's body seemed to have adjusted to custom fit Eddie. Waylon focused on his balance, pushing his hips up and down on Eddie with tight, small movements.

It was bliss, after so much anticipation. Eddie's hand gripping Waylon grew insistent. He silently urged Waylon to speed up.

"I want you so full of my come, you're dripping all the way home," said Eddie, pressing his lips to Waylon's back.

Waylon moaned, and it was a pitiful sound. Eddie's hand around his cock caused his voice to rise several octaves. "How badly do you want to come right now?"

Eddie's response was a sharp bite to Waylon's bare shoulder. He squirmed in Eddie's lap. "I need it."

"Mmm," said Waylon, the rolling motion of his hips getting more exaggerate, his insides clenching around Eddie's cock. "I like you this way."

"You won't when we get home, and I make you pay for being a dirty whore," said Eddie.

Waylon arched his back, grinding down on Eddie's lap. It was still too slow.

Eddie was close. His arm around Waylon pulled instinctively tighter, and Eddie's thighs tensed. He took in a long breath…

And felt like it had been knocked out of him, when Waylon stood up from his perch. Eddie's cock slid free, bobbing, wet, and abandoned. Eddie's cry was even louder, but his eyes flashed dangerously.

"Oops? I slipped," said Waylon.

Eddie started to take a step forward, and nearly fell on his face. His pants were still around his thighs. The situation did nothing to qualm Eddie's rage. He hiked up his pants and grabbed Waylon's arms. He jerked Waylon's body against his own and pulled him into a hard kiss.

Waylon fought laughter as he returned the kiss. Eddie forced Waylon's mouth open, pushing his tongue inside. Eddie's kisses never failed to leave Waylon breathless.

Eddie's hand pushed over on the sewing table in the office, and grabbed one of his many measuring tapes made of durable plastic. While Waylon was distracted, Eddie turned him around, roughly. He grabbed Waylon's arms, and pulled his wrists behind his back.

"Eddie, what are you doing?" said Waylon, a tinge of fear creeping into his tone.

"You've brought this on yourself," muttered Eddie, roughly winding the measuring tape around Waylon's wrists. Waylon did not struggle, but he did attempt to crane his neck around.

"What is that? It's tight," whined Waylon. Eddie could already see where the makeshift binding were leaving marks on Waylon's skin.

"This is what you get when you test my patience," said Eddie, pushing Waylon forward by his bound wrists.

Eddie didn't bother brushing the papers aside before bending Waylon over the desk. There was a rustling of fabric, as Eddie pushed the skirts up and out of the way. He quickly dropped his own pants to his ankles. He wanted nothing between him and Waylon.

Eddie positioned his aching cock at Waylon's entrance, and pushed in with a hard, deep thrust. Waylon jerked his head up and yelped, causing some papers to flutter to the ground.

"That was the purchase order for today's contracts," said Waylon, his voice strained. The plea did nothing to stop Eddie's movements. He gripped Waylon's hip with one hand, and shoulder with the other. He pushed inside with long, steady strokes.

"Surely you knew this would happen," said Eddie, leaning down to push his nose into Waylon's sweaty hair. "You thought I would take that sitting down."

Waylon's answer was a string of incoherent moans. Eddie loved the noises Waylon made when he was close. The way his body clenched around Eddie's thrusting cock, tightening, pulling him in.

Eddie's release was imminent and, after being denied relief for so long, there was no need to hold out. He fucked into Waylon until the desk was shaking. Eddie could barely hear over his own panting, Waylon's groaning, and the sound of skin slapping together.

A growl reverberated in the office as Eddie pressed as deep as possible, holding Waylon tight. His fingers around Waylon's thighs pressed finger-shaped bruises into his skin, rather than risk Waylon attempting to pull away again. Waylon remained. Waylon sat, panting and squirming, as Eddie pumped him to overflowing.

"Untie…pl…eddie..untie…"

Eddie's ears were ringing from the power of his climax. He barely heard Waylon's broken words, and it took several moments for those words to make sense in his mind.

"Ah, sorry, darling," said Eddie, out of breath, reaching down to untangle the measuring tape around Waylon's wrists.

When they were free, Waylon's arms dropped onto the desk surface with a dull thud. Waylon looked boneless.

Eddie had to chuckle. "You brought this on yourself."

"Worth it," said Waylon.

Eddie eased out, slowly, a hand on either of Waylon's ass cheeks as he held him open, admiring how much fluid that dripped out of his small, winking hole. He then noticed the ropes of come staining the front of his office desk. "Darling, you made a mess."

"Sorry," said Waylon, attempting to push up off the desk, and failing, "I was close from the chair before, and having you that aggressive. Well, I didn't last long."

Eddie chuckled as he assisted Waylon with standing up right. Waylon held onto the desk for support, as Eddie pulled up, and adjusted his own pants

"Are you satisfied, now, that we are even again, after this disagreement?" asked Eddie, buttoning his shirt.

"Even? How are we even," said Waylon, shaking his flushed face. His fingertips were trying to push his hair back into some semblance of a style. "You kept the party a secret from me, and then you tied me up, and fucked me on a desk!"

"But, you-" Eddie just stopped himself, and shook his head. "Will you ever get tired of this game—attempting to get these petty victories over me?"

"No," said Waylon, leaning into Eddie. His cheek pressed against Eddie's chest. "I'll never be able to forgive you, for making me fall in love with you. I'm going to be there, every day of your life, just making your life difficult." Waylon chuckled against Eddie's chest.

"Every day of my life…does this mean you accept my proposal?" asked Eddie.

"I do," whispered Waylon.

A/N: Thank you to everyone that left reviews along the way! Cadillacslim3 with your reviews, it's awesome to have someone reading along, makes it so much more fun. Neverlie19, U.s.a.g.i.n.e.k.o-c.h.a.n, UprisingHotdog, you guys all deserve a shout out. I usually don't have many readers on this site, but it makes it worth it to see a response so thank you. You guys made these last months so amazing. I'm going to keep writing for this fandom, just because it's really nice to see people that respond. I'm always sad when a story closes, because I grow so attached to them, but I'm happy to mark them complete. So thanks, I hope you enjoyed this work, I know I had a great time, and I'm a sucker for a happy ending for my OTP :) And man, sorry if this seems rushed, I was late getting to posting, and forgot it takes time to make these thank yous lol