Bret wants another bet

Liam needed to stop staring but he struggled to do so. Every time he tried to focus on something else his eyes kept darting back to Bret. The black dress and those damn stockings just kept calling him. He shifted on his stool again, trying to ignore the evidence in his pants of how much the costume was messing with him.

“This is so fucking stupid,” Bret muttered, his rough voice sounding alien coming from those painted lips as he shouted over the growing noise of the crowd.

Their friends had dispersed into the crowd by now, leaving the two of them alone at the bar, not that Liam really noticed. Bret shifted on his stool, crossing his legs in a way that made the skirt show his stocking tops and make Liam cough on his drink, looking away.

Bret was clueless about the effect he was having on his buddy or at least played it off well if he did. When Bret placed his small hand on Liam's forearm, Liam's eyes snapped back once again in time to see Bret leaning in.

"Oh shit, is he going to-" the thought died as Bret spoke into his ear.

Liam could smell what might have been perfume as Bret spoke, “I should’ve just forfeited. This is humiliating.”

"Dude, Nobody cares,” Except him. He cared way too much, and it was deeply unsettling.

Bret huffed then slid off the stool with a wobble, “Come on.”

"What?" Liam stood carefully, hoping his erection wasn't too noticeable.

Bret said, jerking his head toward the pool table. “I need to do something normal tonight. Let’s play.”

The idea of doing something normal was a good one as far as Liam was concerned, “Alright, fine.”

Liam followed Bret through the crowd and immediately learned that it was, in fact, a bad idea. The sway of Bret’s hips as he moved through the room in his heels was maddening.

At the pool table that had just cleared up, Bret grabbed a cue stick and leaned over to rack the balls, completely unaware that the angle gave Liam a perfect view of the skirt riding up the back of his thighs. Liam turned away fast, pretending to chalk his own cue but he could still see it in his mind.

“You break,” Liam said, voice gruff.

Bret nodded and lined up his shot, bending over the table, and flashing Liam with a teasing glimpse of what Liam assumed were a pair of panties. The crack of the balls pierced through the noise of the bar, and Bret straightened up. He brushed his hair out of his face behind an ear causing Liam’s grip on the cue to tighten.

Liam usually played well, but usually, he wasn't playing with a raging boner. After another easy shot missed, Bret got a smirk on his pretty face. Liam knew his scheming look and squinted at him.

"What is it?" he asked.

“I was just thinking, we could make this interesting,” Bret mused.

Liam shook his head, “No. No way. We’re not doing that again.”

Bret leaned on his cue with a smirk on those tempting lips, “You’re scared I’ll win this time.”

“I’m not scared. Haven't you had enough of betting for a while?” Liam snapped.

"Come on, let’s go. One game,” Bret pressed.

Liam rubbed a hand over his face, exasperated. “Bret, seriously, not tonight, ” Liam turned back to the game and lined up his shot, trying to focus but Bret wasn't letting it go.

“You’re acting like I’m asking you to sell your soul. It’s pool, Liam. We’ve done this a hundred times,” he said with a pout.

Liam had to admit, Bret was right. Another bet wouldn't really be a big deal, would it? Why was he so concerned? Maybe he should accept, just to shut him up? If he did accept, though, Liam didn't trust himself with how his body was responding to the cute maid. Liam wrestled with the question long enough that their game was to end. It was Bret's turn and was one easy shot away from winning the game.

Bret leaned over but instead of shooting, he looked over at Liam while still draped over the pool table, “One turn, one bet. I sink this ball. I win, you do something for me. I miss? You win, you get whatever you want.”

"You're on," Liam said before his mind realized what his mouth said.