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Brooke has gotten into the annoying habit of watching Vanessa from across the workroom. No matter how badly she needs to focus on her outfit or choreography or memorizing her lines, she always catches herself with her eyes trained on Vanessa, current work forgotten. She had thought that sitting far apart while they worked would keep her from getting so distracted. She was wrong.

Right now, Vanessa is joking around with Silky. They’re speaking just loudly enough that Brooke can hear the gravelly rasp of her voice carry across the room, but can’t make out the conversation. Silky says something and Vanessa cracks up, her loud laugh traveling easily to Brooke’s ears. Brooke can’t help but smile despite not hearing the joke as Vanessa throws her head back, clutching to the wig she has placed loosely on her head so it won’t fall off.

“Bitch! How’m I supposed to do your hair if you’re thrashin’ around like that?” Silky exclaims as Vanessa tries to calm down. As she readjusts, Vanessa looks up and meets eyes with Brooke, breaking out into a grin and winking when she catches her staring.

Brooke feels a blush immediately rise in her cheeks and turns her head back toward the garment she is supposed to be working on, though now her mind is further than ever from the task at hand.

———

It is almost time to film the main challenge for the episode, and everyone is bustling around the workroom putting final touches on their looks or going over whatever characters they’re going to be doing. Brooke is touching up her lip when Vanessa walks over.

“Hey, girl.”

“Hey, Papi, how you feeling?” She asks, continuing to drag the lipstick across her top lip.

Vanessa leans forward against Brooke’s make up counter, watching her through the mirror. “I’m feelin’ good. Ready to bring them all this Vanjie energy, you know.”

Brooke laughs, presses her lips together and caps her lipstick. She turns to face Vanessa, planning to respond, but as soon as she is facing the other queen Vanessa leans in. Brooke puckers her lips on instinct, expecting one of the many little pecks they have traded in the workroom. When their lips met, however, and Brooke starts to pull away, Vanessa’s hand finds the back of her neck and holds her in place.

It is a mostly closed mouth, and not too messy because they can’t screw up their makeup, but the force of Vanessa’s lips pressed against her own takes Brooke by surprise. Brooke’s hand rises to Vanessa’s cinched waist, pulling her the final half step closer to where Brooke sits in her makeup chair.

Brooke takes a slow breath in through her nose, inhaling the smell of makeup, of course, but also the scent of Vanessa’s too-strong cologne, that still somehow clings to her even in drag. It is a good reminder of the man that lies beneath all the layers of tights and glitter. Not that Brooke would ever forget.

Vanessa pulls away, her hand sliding from Brooke’s neck down her arm. “Ooh, now I’m really ready to go slay this challenge!” She flashes a grin. “Alright, good luck!” she says as she turns to head out of the workroom and film her part.

“Good luck, Boo,” Brooke calls after her.

Then she turns to the mirror to fix her lipstick again and tries to ignore the flutter of arousal that will make her tuck a lot less comfortable if she doesn’t keep it under control.

———

Between the long, tiring days and being sequestered in their hotel rooms at night, there isn’t much of a chance to tend to certain, more primal, needs.

A quick make out in the van ride to set, and memories of Vanessa’s firm grip on her thigh, have left Brooke especially worked up today.

So really, she can’t be blamed for tracking Vanessa as she runs shirtless back and forth across the workroom gathering everything she needs for her runway look. Vanessa reaches up high to unhook something from her clothing rack, and Brooke can’t help the jump her mind makes to imagining that same bare torso stretched out for different reasons. Imagining how smooth and warm that tan skin would be under her hands. How Vanessa might tremble if Brooke drags her fingers slowly enough down her sides.

Brooke clears her throat, and looks away, trying to snap herself out of it. She is already half hard (blame it on the physical deprivation, okay,) and continuing down that train of thought won’t be helpful.

She sits at a workroom table, staring ahead and trying to force her thoughts toward what paint she wants to do today when she feels a warm body press up against her back.

Brooke gasps at the sudden contact. She hopes that Vanessa doesn’t hear, but luck isn’t on her side.

“What you over here gaspin’ for? Bitch, I bet you’d be so crazy in a haunted house— freakin’ out ‘round every corner.” Vanessa’s arms slip loosely around her shoulders from where she stands behind Brooke, and she leans forward to press a kiss against Brooke’s cheek.

Brooke can tell that the other queen is still shirtless, can feel the heat of bare skin even through her own t-shirt.

Brooke tries to laugh it off and divert the attention, but Vanessa catches on immediately. “What’s up Miss Thing, you actin’ weird.”

“Nothing, just thinking about what look I want to do today.”

“Mmmmm hmm,” Vanessa deadpans as she pulls out a chair and sits down beside her. “And what look is that gonna be?”

“I was thinking maybe a neutral lip to go with the dress,” Brooke spits out, even though she can’t even think of what dress she’s going to wear with Vanessa this close. She rotates on the stool so they’re facing each other. Vanessa scoots a bit closer and lets their knees slot together, mischief shining in her eyes when she sees Brooke’s flustered reaction.

“Yeah, and what dress are you wearin’?” Vanessa leans forward and rests her hands on Brooke’s knees.

“I, umm…” Brooke trails off as Vanessa’s hands slide a little bit further up her legs.

“Have you decided on your hair?”

“Uh, blonde.”

“Bitch you always wear blonde, that doesn’t narrow it down.” Vanessa quirks a brow at Brooke, letting her hands slide up another few inches. She stretches her thumbs down to press into the flesh of Brooke’s inner thighs, feeling the muscles of her strong dancer legs tense up. “You seem stressed, maybe you should go have a cigarette and loosen up or somethin’,” Vanessa says.

There’s a playfulness in Vanessa’s tone when she makes the suggestion that Brooke doesn’t fully understand. “Yeah, maybe I will. Thanks, baby.”

Vanessa’s lips quirk into a smile and she pushes herself back up out of the chair. She cups Brooke’s slightly stubbly cheek closely with one hand and presses a firm kiss to the other side of her face.

When Vanessa walks away Brooke sits for a few more minutes before deciding to follow her advice. Going out for a smoke couldn’t hurt. She walks over to her bags to grab a box of cigarettes and a lighter. Hopefully, by the time she gets back, she’ll be ready to get her mind back on the competition.
The hallway between the workroom and the door to the back lot where they’re allowed to smoke is empty. Brooke turns to the door that will take her outside, but before she reaches it the door to the bathroom opens slightly and Vanessa’s head pops out sideways like a cartoon character.

“Oh, thank God it’s you bitch. Took you long enough.” She waves her hand impatiently and Brooke steps towards her.

“What are you—" as soon as she’s close enough Vanessa grabs her by the arm and tugs her into the bathroom. The door closes and she flicks the lock into place and reaches to switch Brooke’s microphone off.

“You seemed distracted. Couldn’t help but feel like it might have been my fault,” Vanessa says with a smirk and pushes up on her tiptoes to kiss the taller queen.

Brooke quickly snaps out of her shocked state and kisses back hungrily as she finally catches on to what’s happening. Her hands slide up under the t-shirt that Vanessa must have put on at some point. They break the kiss to pull the fabric up and over Vanessa’s head. Jose’s head. Because she can only think of him as Jose now. Brock drapes the shirt over the paper towel dispenser and quickly pulls his own off too, throwing it to the same place.

“We could get in so much trouble for this,” Brock says.

“Better be quiet so we don’t get caught, then.” Jose yelps in surprise when Brock reaches down to loop his arm under Jose’s ass and lifts him up.

“What happened to being quiet?” Brock teases, walking them the couple steps over toward the sink and setting Jose down on its porcelain edge. Brock steps between his legs and Jose links his ankles around Brock’s waist, hands traveling to the heated skin of his back.

The next kisses are sloppy and urgent and leave Brock thankful that neither of them has started painting yet. He holds Jose close with one hand on his back and knots the other into his dark hair. Jose moans into his mouth at the gentle tug. Brock pulls harder.

“Fuck,” Jose gasps, and digs his heels into Brock’s lower back, closing the last bit of distance between them. Brock groans at the friction, and feels the press of Jose’s dick, just as hard as his own.

Brock’s lips find Jose’s shoulder, and follow his collarbone toward the fluttering pulse in his neck. Fingers dig hard into Brock’s arm when he sucks at the sensitive skin. “Bitch, I better not have to put foundation over that.”

Brock laughs and pulls away before the hickey can get too dark. His hands slide down Jose’s chest, thumbs brushing over his nipples, and he stares at his hands and how his long fingers can wrap so far around Jose’s ribs. He peppers a few more kisses across his tan chest before their lips meet again.

Brock rocks his hips forward, slowly, but with intention. Jose’s hands press against Brock’s shoulder blades, holding them together and keeping Jose from sliding backward off the lip of the sink.

They break the kiss to breathe, cheeks sliding against each other. Brock feels hot puffs of breath against his ear in time with each push of their hips.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this. About you.” He speaks the words so softly that they’re barely a breath, but they’re close enough that Jose hears them. Brock feels him shiver in response.

“I know bitch,” Jose’s voice rasps out. “You think I haven’t seen you starin’?”

Brock catches Jose’s earlobe between his teeth and the other man gasps. “Alright! Alright, Mary, I been thinkin’ about you, too!”

“Yeah?” Brock says.

“Mmmm hmm. You wanna know what I been thinkin’ about?” Jose pulls back and shoves at Brock’s shoulders.

Brock doesn’t have time to protest before Jose has slipped off the edge of the sink and turned them around so Brock is pressed against it instead.

“Thank God they keep these bathrooms clean,” Jose says, and drops to his knees.

Brock’s cock jerks in anticipation. “Fuck,” he whispers, looking down at a dark head of hair and slim shoulders.

Jose palms Brock’s crotch through his pants and Brock’s hands fly to grip the edge of the sink.

“Remember you gotta stay quiet,” Jose warns as he undoes Brock’s pants and yanks them down along with his underwear.

Brock nods, but it’s only to himself because Jose is too busy staring at what’s in front of him to see. The smaller man falls enthusiastically onto his cock and Brock throws his head back, biting down a swear.

One of Jose’s hands joins his mouth on Brock’s cock and he drags some saliva and precum down to act as lubrication as he pumps his fist in time with his mouth. Brock looks down, and watches Jose’s head bobbing. He sees when Jose moves his free hand from where it had been lightly gripping Brock’s calf to fumble with the fastening of Jose’s own pants instead. He manages to get them unbuttoned and pulls his own dick out, wrapping his hand around it and moaning around Brock’s cock.

Brock swears his vision blurs for a second. “Holy shit Jose…”

Jose looks up, his puppy dog eyes meeting Brock’s. The eye contact sends tingles up Brock’s spine. His knuckles are as white as the porcelain they’re gripping from how hard he’s holding the edge of the sink.

“Oh my God, you’re so fucking hot,” he mumbles, as loudly as he dares. Jose whimpers and the hand on his own cock speeds up. The rhythm of his mouth and the hand on Brock’s cock falter a bit, but Brock doesn’t care because the sight of Jose on his knees in front of him, jerking himself off, is so sexy that Brock probably would have come if Jose had kept up the pace.

After a few more strokes Jose pulls off of Brock completely. He sits back on his heels, pumping his own dick and staring up at Brock. “Shit, you like watching me, Brock?”

Brock nods but otherwise stays completely still. Jose’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, and Brock thinks Jose might come, but all of a sudden he stops and removes his hand.

“You lucky my voice already raspy as hell otherwise everyone would definitely be able to tell I did this,” Jose says, and then leans forward and takes Brock’s cock deep into his throat, hands raising to brace against the backs of Brock’s thighs.

“Holy fuck.” Brock prays there aren’t any PAs in the hall that might hear him.

Brock forces himself to stay still as his hips threaten to jerk forward. One of his hands finally moves off the sink and he buries it in Jose’s hair. Jose moans, and Brock feels the vibrations travel up his dick.

“Fuck Jose, I’m close. Please keep— fuck.” Jose’s fingers dig deeper into the backs of Brock’s thighs and he increases his speed. Brock inhales sharply through his nose. His eyes roll back and he looks at the ceiling, wanting desperately to come but also wanting to draw this out for a few more seconds.

His stomach tenses and he returns his attention to Jose. “Ah, fuck I’m gonna come,” Brock warns, and tries to keep his voice low enough that no one outside will hear. “Jose, I’m gonna… holy shit, ah, ah, fuck Jose, fuck, yes…”

Brock’s abs spasm and his hand knots hard in Jose’s hair. Jose holds Brock’s hips close and keeps him in his throat when he comes. He pulls back a little, still bobbing lightly as Brock trembles through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He watches Brock’s face and when he sees signs of oversensitivity he pulls off and swallows. Jose reaches for his own cock again, biting his lip and starting to stroke. “No, let me do that,” Brock says, breathless.

Jose stands, and Brock’s legs are shaky but he manages to lift Jose so he’s sitting on the edge of the sink again and takes his spot between his legs. His fingers wrap around Jose’s cock, swiping over the tip to collect the precum gathered there.

“I’m already so close,” Jose breathes, and Brock starts stroking quickly, eager to make Jose feel as good as he did.

“You liked that, huh?” Brock murmurs. “Liked having my cock in your throat.”

“Uh huh,” Jose says, breathless, and his forehead falls forward to rest against Brock’s shoulder.

Brock feels Jose’s heels dig into the top of his ass as his legs flex. “You were so fucking hot on your knees like that. You took my cock so well, baby.”

Brock speeds up his hand and feels puffs of Jose’s breath as he pants against Brock’s shoulder. “You gonna come, baby? Gotta be quiet, remember.”

Jose whimpers and brings his hand up to Brock’s shoulder so he can bite the side of it.

“Good boy,” Brock says.

Brock can’t see because of the way Jose is curled over the space between them, but he can feel the wet splash on his stomach when Jose groans against his hand and comes.

They stay like that for a minute, breathing heavily with Jose’s head resting against Brock’s shoulder as they recover. Then Brock gently eases Jose down so he’s standing again and turns to grab paper towels to clean them up with.

“Fuck, that was good,” Jose says. Jose’s voice sounds even rougher than usual, and Brock hopes the other queens won’t notice when they return to the workroom.

“It was,” Brock replies, and presses a soft kiss to his forehead before running the paper towels under some warm water and wiping them off.

The two redress and face each other one more time before heading back out. “Thank you for that,” Brock says. “I needed it.”

“Not like it was a chore for me,” Jose says. “Do I look presentable?”

“Yeah, just about.” Brock reaches over to smooth some stray pieces of Jose’s hair out. He leans down for a gentle kiss. “So how are we doing this? We probably shouldn’t go out at the same time.”

Jose is just about to respond when someone knocks loudly on the door. “Fuck,” Brock whispers. They meet each other’s eyes. “One second!” he calls out.

Jose shrugs, and Brock exhales and goes to open the door.

He finds Nina waiting outside, and smiles awkwardly at her.

He’s still hoping there might be some way they can distract her and make a getaway when Jose brushes past him into the hall with a smug look on his face. Nina’s mouth falls open into a delighted smile.

Brock sighs. “Bitch, you’d better not tell a soul.”