TW: Body Worship, Cross-dressing, Kissing, Makeup

Alex and Ross were going to be gone all day, not expected to return until at least eight. It meant that Chris had the flat to himself. So he spent the bulk of the day working, getting caught up on what he could with the other two away. Various videos were edited and he was even able to catch up on a show he had been meaning to. And after all that it was only five-thirty on a Friday.

He had two hours. Two glorious hours left to himself to do whatever he wanted. Chris sat in his room at his desk, spinning in his chair, thinking. He could do the grocery shopping, although Ross liked to go with him when he did. Or he could possibly put those few hours into a game he had been meaning to play for months. But all that seemed too basic, too ordinary, too simple a pleasure. Chris stilled and glanced at the foot of his bed, to the black side of a box he kept underneath. The sudden urge to take it out was overwhelming. Dare he pamper himself this evening? He thought that he deserved it. The last time had been too many months ago, back when they had first moved into this place together. But if he wished to proceed then there was something he had to do first in order to use the contents.

Chris went into the bathroom, took out his razor, and got to work on making his face as smooth as he could. He didn't rush himself. And after his skin was soft, with not a single hair remaining, he went to work on his legs. It would have been faster to use wax strips if he had any, like he had been subjected last year during a certain Christmas livestream, but he had done this before, and just had to do it little by little, with meticulous care.

Then, when he was finally done prepping, he returned to his room and with eager hands took out the long, shallow box from under his bed and set it on the mattress. He removed the lid and revealed the assortment of goods inside. Chris hummed in delight; he hadn't seen these precious things in a good, long while. A thrill went through him at the thought of finally using them again.

First he wanted to do the most important and enjoyable part. He picked up the rectangular eyeshadow palette. It was probably past the expiration date by now, but he still loved the colors in it too much to throw it out just yet. He put it back and grabbed the tube of liquid foundation that he had spent months finding just the right shade to match his skin. Beyond that, he still hadn't tried out contouring or highlighting yet, and even though his deleted YouTube history had been full of tutorials, he was afraid of messing up. Not like anyone was going to see him, but... he just wasn't ready. Keeping it simple would be enough.

Chris shook the tube while he searched for the beauty blender. He spotted the pink sponge and scooped it up along with some primer. As he went over to his full length mirror he wondered when this hobby had started. He guessed it had been ages ago, when he was still just a school-boy, getting far too into Halloween costumes. Chris rubbed the clear slippery primer over his entire face, then snapped open the cap of the concealer. He'd been about a teenager, he reckoned, when theater make-up and acting had become a topic of interest. That had been kept a little more guarded though, like a special sort of secret he only let known to his closest of friends.

He coated his face evenly and patted it in with the soft sponge, working it around until he knew the blend was just right. Already he was looking more flawless, skin a little dewy and somewhat glowing in the fading light of the afternoon's sun that slotted itself through his window.

Chris returned to the box and swapped his things for the eyeshadow and a white eyeliner pencil. These he applied gradually, using a finger to swipe the dusky mauve powder along his lid. It was one of his favorite colors, not quite brown or purple, but somewhere in the middle. It reminded him of the desert and of wildflowers, of wind during autumn. It had been years and years ago, but he still remembers it, how the drunk girl at the pub had turned to him and said, "You'd look good in mauve." Chris had taken it to heart and he had to agree. It was an incredible color.

He looked down at the palette and couldn't resist dipping his pinky into the light-pink glitter pot on the end. He dabbed a little onto his lids before he set the palette down. He then ran the eyeliner over his waterline, making sure the white was heavy and visible, but not uneven. Once done with that he looked his face over, gingerly brushed a stray eyelash off his cheek. It was coming together nicely. Chris nodded at his reflection and turned around.

Out of the box he extracted a package of false lashes, ones that were super soft and full. Definitely statement pieces, ones that would make his eyes appear larger. It took him a few minutes, but he managed to get them to stay on. One was a little crooked, but it was hard to tell once he was farther away from the mirror. He touched them up with a tube of extra black mascara and gave a smile full of teeth. Only one more thing.

The liquid to matte lipstick was, of course, a shade of mauve, but was called rose taupe. A little more pink than the standard mauve taupe. He rubbed the silky formula over his lips with the applicator, the minty fragrance of it pleasing. It dried quickly and smoothly, and Chris puckered his lips, making sure he had covered all areas. He touched up the corner, and finally he was done.

But it wasn't quite enough. He knew he had pretty much perfected this look, this undisclosed desire of his that only he had seen. He hadn't even taken a picture of himself for fear of someone discovering it. It was all fun and games to dress up sloppily in front of the others for a video or pull together a funny outfit for a stage event with a bit of bright lipstick. But here, within the safety of his room, he could do all of this and feel goodabout it, feel a sense of satisfaction and pride that he was able to transform his face in such a way.

Chris put all the makeup back into his box and went to wash his hands. When he came back, he turned on the overhead light and closed the window blinds. Carefully he removed his shirt, then shimmied out of his sweats and boxers. He stood naked, except he didn't feel like he was, what with his face slightly weighted. He wasn't quite used to wearing everything for obvious reasons, but it wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, it felt like a small luxury, being able to be exist as he was right in that moment.

He reached in and took out the plain black pair of panties. They were a simple bikini style. He hadn't been going for anything special when he picked them out, mainly because he was lacking in the ass department and there wasn't anything he could do about it. But they fit him well, and he slipped them on. Their cool softness felt nice.

The next article retrieved was of the same black, but made out of supple leather. The skirt he stepped into went a bit above mid-thigh and even had pockets. Chris looked in the mirror, not happy with how his little love handles spilled over the top of the skirt. He pinched at the skin and tried to hike the skirt up overtop of them. But it wouldn't go any further, already a size too small since he had had this particular skirt for quite some time. Chris sighed and let it be. He wasn't going to allow something as pathetic as fluffy excess ruin his mood.

The last two things in the box stared at him. Chris picked up the white bralette and pulled it over his head. The snugness of it was cozy. The front was a V-neck style and the spaghetti straps laid on his back in a Y shape that connected to the band. Chris rotated in front of the mirror, looking himself over with scrutinizing eyes. It was the only time that he was thankful for the almost complete lack of upper body hair. He ran a hand down the middle of his chest and to his stomach. He poked at it, not exactly thrilled with the small pouch, but he was working on it best he could after hours at the gym with Alex. He knew results took time.

Finally, Chris got to the final piece. Tenderly, he lifted the wig, gave it a shake, and then ran his fingers through it to comb out the tangles. It was mid-length, just a little past his shoulders, and had short bangs. The brown of it was a slight shade lighter than his own hair color, with a few darker streaks in it. Chris brushed his fringe to the side and fit the wig on snugly. He patted down the stray hairs and made sure it was as secure as it was going to get.

He was complete. When he stood, hands on his hips, looking at himself, he almost thought he could go outside as he was. At night, anyways, with only the streetlights on. But his outfit of choice wasn't exactly something suited for a chilly evening, although he had seen plenty of women going into clubs dressed like he was. He didn't quite have that level of confidence, though he was happy with what he saw. The wig really brought it all together, made the look that much more believable, made him feel more genuine, even a little natural.

Chris did a few different poses. One with his hand in the skirt pocket, another with a hand against the side of his head. He bowed his back and formed his body into the best S-shape he could, leaning back on his heels. He was a bit dejected that he didn't have a pair of shoes, but he was working on it. He had several bookmarks on his laptop, and he was in the process of debating which ones would look best with what he had on. But for now he'd have to make due with bare feet.

He was so caught up with examining himself in the mirror that Chris started when he heard a noise behind him. He turned around quickly, breath catching as he made eye contact with Ross, who was standing in the open doorway. Alex was next to him.

Chris wasn't able to say anything. His arms went limp at his sides, eyes wide in disbelief because they weren't supposed to be home yet. His mind spun and jolted in search for an excuse, something believable, some way to salvage this situation.

"Who are...Trott?" Ross' voice held true surprise, jaw gone somewhat slack after the speculation.

That was when the sheer embarrassment hit Chris right in his chest as it squeezed his heart hard and told him that he had done something horribly wrong and strange. What consequences would this hold? Had he ruined their newly formed relationship all by indulging himself? Chris couldn't help looking at Alex. The man's face was passive –serious even. Chris hurriedly looked away, to the floor where he could feel the gazes on him, and it felt like a tormenting fire filled with judgement.

Chris stood still with his head down, every part of him tensed. Maybe if he waited long enough, they'd leave him alone. Maybe they wouldn't have to talk about this. It would be better to try to forget it, even though he knew it would be impossible to.

There were footsteps, heavy ones that Chris could easily identify as Alex's. And then a hand came into his vision, laid itself across his wrist. Chris didn't expect anything good to come out of this. He thought that possibly he would be hit, even though the chances of that were very low.

"Trott," Alex said, and Chris couldn't read his voice. The hand slid up his arm to his exposed shoulder and rested there. The grip was loose. "You're..."

Chris braced himself. He knew ridicule, taunting, and all the works. It wasn't unfamiliar to him, and he had grown to brush it off, to not let it pierce him in his soft spots.

"You look amazing."

Alex's words entered Chris' ears but they took a few ticks to register. Chris found himself looking up, right at Alex's face. It was open, full of a kind acceptance. The pressure in Chris' chest built, but if it was different this time.

"Tell him, Ross," Alex said.

The man came over and shyly said, "You're very pretty, Trott."

Chris realized that he had been inaccurate in his thoughts, that the two people he loved most in the world were not going to shun, reject, or scorn him. And he knew that they weren't lying when they said he looked good. He was even able to offer a small, somewhat reserved smile.

Alex's hand brushed across his back, and Chris was pulled into a tight hug. Chris relaxed into him, felt the tension drip off gradually. He wanted to say something, but he had no idea what he should. There was an explanation he felt he had to give, but the words wouldn't come out of his throat.

When Alex released Chris it was only so that he could tip Chris' head up for a searing kiss. Chris wanted to give into it, but he pulled back.

"You'll mess up my lipstick," Chris said, quiet.

Alex hummed, and Chris could tell that it sounded a little bit smug. "That's not the only thing I wanna mess up," Alex said lowly, and it caused a shiver to vibrate through Chris.

Chris watched as Ross moved the box from the bed and set it on the floor, then climbed on and sat, leaned against the wall. He patted his lap, and Alex gave Chris an encouraging push.

It was somewhat difficult to maneuver onto a bed in a skirt that hugged his legs, but Chris managed it on his knees. Ross pulled him close and turned him around so that Chris was reclined against him. But then there was Alex, frame of him shifting in to bring Chris flat against the mattress with his head on Ross' legs. Chris observed the ceiling until Alex hovered over him.

"The wig looks good," Alex said, "but you don't need it." He slid a hand against Chris' forehead and up, catching the band of the wig. He took it off of Chris. "There he is."

Chris itched to fix his fringe, but before he could Ross had a finger under his chin, angling his head back. The kiss he received was somewhat awkward, what with it being upside down, but he felt Ross' eagerness behind it. Chris momentarily forgot about the lipstick and let himself be kissed, Ross' scratchy chin rubbing against his nose.

The heat from Alex's hands on his sides warmed him. Thumbs on his ribs right below the band of the bralette, making maddeningly little circles, and Chris felt so small with those hands on him, and he remembered years ago when they used to be so rough from playing guitar all the time. Now they were softer, the nails longer, but it didn't change the fact that they were Alex's. Chris bent up into them as they came around to his chest, and he didn't know why for sure, but there was a small rush of bashfulness he felt when Alex touched him like that, palms against his covered nipples.

Ross lifted away just a short distance. He looked down at Chris, and the mauve was smudged against Ross' mouth, mixed with the pink of his lips to make a dusky shade. Chris had an urge to see what Ross would look like painted up, to do it himself –sit the man down and smooth out his features, just to see how it would suit him.

"I always knew you'd look good in makeup, Trott," Ross said with a smile, corners of his eyes crinkling. "I just didn't think you'd be this stunning."

Chris wanted to tell Ross to stop with the flattery, but he felt Alex's hands move to his waist. It nearly felt too intimate. They'd been naked together before, hell, they'd fucked before, but this was different in some indescribable way. Chris took in a sharp breath as Alex dipped his head. The rub of beard on his stomach made Chris' muscles quiver. Then, patient kisses were dropped around his navel, a rhythmic blessing of sorts and Chris could only lay there and take it.

With placid fingers, Ross weaved them into Chris' hair and swirled the tips around his scalp in a leisurely massage. It was intense, the pressures focused his body, and Chris had to close his eyes, just let himself feel, to take it in. Never before had this much attention been focused solely on him and it was just shy of overwhelming.

Alex tried to work his hands along Chris' thighs under the skirt. He wasn't quite able to, and Chris could tell he was annoyed. Chris huffed a laugh, but it got cut off when Alex slid his hand between Chris' legs. On instinct, Chris closed them, trapping Alex's hand between his thighs.

"Now, now, Trotty," Alex said against his stomach. "Let me see what you've got under this skirt." Chris was tempted to keep the hold he had, but he decided against it. He let go, and Alex's hand was free to brush against his crotch. A finger hooked in the elastic and Chris raised himself as best he could. "Good boy," Alex praised, and that did things to Chris. He felt too warm, like the center of attention, being washed in reverence.

He opened his eyes as he felt his panties pulled down his thighs. Alex sat back and held them up, just let them hang from his index finger, and it was slightly scandalous in a new kind of way because Chris had never seen it before, never seen Alex with an eyebrow raised, holding up a pair of black panties so casually like he was. It fit him, though, this still image, something that deserved to be taken a picture of.

"Damn," Ross said, and he sounded like he was out of breath.

Chris bit his lip and glanced away. He couldn't look for any longer. But out of the corner of his eye he saw Alex let the material fall, and that motion in itself caused a thrill to skitter down his spine, flaring out to jump through his nerves. Ross' fingers untangled from his hair.

"You're just full of surprises tonight, aren't you, Chris." Alex's voice forced Chris to look back at him, because it was full of stunned wonder, and the tone of it was all for him.

"He is, isn't he?" Ross murmured in agreement.

Alex fingered a spaghetti strap of the bralette. "This thing is sexy. Don't know what it is, but I like it." Alex leaned in again and this time he kissed the top of Chris' sternum and said, "I like it on you."

And Chris, who always had the responses, who always knew what to say to Alex, could only stare at the top of his head and feel. If he tried to say something it would be meaningless noise, and maybe it would signal approval, or maybe denial, but he wasn't going to attempt to find out. Because he recognized that he didn't have to put anything into words.

Ross kneaded his shoulders and Alex drew a trail with his tongue until it reached Chris' neck. Teeth nipped at his pliable skin, not enough to leave proof, but enough to act as a tease. It tickled too, because of the whiskers Alex was so proud of, and Chris couldn't fault him for keeping them, because he liked the facial hair, both Alex's and Ross', how they both had changed from such young, baby-faced boys into the men that they were now. Chris had been there to witness it all, and he was still amazed that they had stuck together, the three of them, so cohesively.

When Alex moved back it was so that he could turn Chris over. Chris felt somewhat limp as he was easily flipped. His face rubbed onto Ross' jeans, and knew the foundation was going to smear, but he didn't care anymore because Ross was petting his head and Alex started to trace the Y of the bralette straps with mindful fingertips. They moved on to draw nonsense into his shoulder blades, and Alex was being so amiable, it was in some such way refreshing, this, to be lavished with attention by two people.

Alex knew Chris' back was sensitive, and so he was conscious of his presses, but remained firm. At Chris' lower back he let up the pressure just slightly, and skimmed against the top of the skirt. Then Alex's hands were on the svelte leather covering his ass where they tried to find some type of purchase, but failed because there wasn't much to get a hold of. So they travelled further to his knees and onto his calves.

"Your legs are smooth as fuck," Alex said, and he picked one up to briefly lay his lips on it. But then he set it down, and Chris' vision turned as he was once again on his back.

Alex found his hand and laced their fingers together. His other hand was picked up by Ross, and he looked between the two, back and forth, Ross' face upside down. Chris felt the hands in his own give a squeeze, and he experienced an overwhelming rush of safety and comfort radiate into him from those hands, from the eyes staring down at him. He wanted to thank them in that moment, for always being by his side, for not mocking him outside the usual jokes. But Chris could only smile at them and squeeze back, and he thought that they surely understood.

They must have, because first Alex dipped down to kiss him on the mouth, and when he moved back, Ross laid a kiss to his forehead. Chris expected them to say something, but they sat quietly, just looking at him, and Chris was okay with that, okay with the silence for he knew that it was out of some sort of devotion to him.

And Chris liked that, would cherish the peace it gave him, and the next time that he wanted to dress up he wouldn't be afraid because he knew that Alex and Ross would look forward to it.

Credit to Toast_Senpai on Ao3