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Katya moves to LA at the end of the summer. 

He packs up his horrible green apartment and says goodbye to Boston, trading New England for sunny California. At this point, it just makes sense; he’s there for work more often than not. Something in his body is telling him it’s time to see how living is on the opposite coast. Change of scenery, break up the monotony, greener pastures or whatever. Also, Trixie is there.

Setting up a whole new life distracts him from the stress of All Stars airing. He’s too busy figuring out where to put his collection of teeth, what days the good meetings are on, where it’s most convenient to buy his cigarettes. He’s getting used to seeing Trixie more often too. 

It doesn’t change the way he acts around her, like he has to vent everything he feels when they’re together because he’s not sure when he’ll get another chance. He’s still static electricity around her, sparks in dry air.

“We should go to Palm Springs,” Trixie says one afternoon while they’re out walking. “Like, just the two of us.” She’s tall and lean; her fitness journey has her made up of hard shapes and angles. 

Katya fixates on just the two of us, caught in the way the palm trees cast shadows over Trixie’s face. He almost immediately moves on to making an appropriate response come out of his mouth. 

“Oh my god, yes! I can’t wait to sit out in the sun all day and turn into a leather bag. I gotta earn my California stripes still.”

“If you ask me to help you put a cactus up your ass, you’re on your own,” Trixie laughs. “You know that’s on the list, right?”

Katya wheezes and shoves her. He’s excited.


It’s fully a desert out here. Katya forgets that. They’re in the beginning of fall, but it’s hot and sunny in Palm Springs. 

They rent a little bungalow, one with a yard and a fucking pool. There are a pair of sun loungers along the side of the it, and they spend their afternoons lying in the sun getting stupid. Trixie looks so good out here, stretched out like a cat, long and golden from her summer in Provincetown. 

“Look at you,” Katya says, taking videos of her on his phone. “Look at this sexy man in tiny shorts.” Trixie laughs and pulls them up, flashing so much leg. Katya posts them all to his Snapchat story.

They take turns jumping into the pool, screaming and splashing like idiots. The water is warm and Katya feels blanketed, shrouded by humidity and a bright flicker of affection he feels each time he looks at Trixie. They’re both out here, away from home, taking advantage of the way their days feel suspended between reality and dreaming.

Katya has seen the way Trixie catches him staring, because he’s not being subtle in the least. 

“Bitch, what?” She asks, eyeing him.

Katya lets his gaze linger on the juncture of Trixie’s neck and shoulder, the way her ass fills out her shorts. He just can’t help it. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing!” He’s compelled to listen to the tug of his gut, the way he always wants to make her laugh. Trixie doesn’t say anything about it either, she just smiles in that self assured little way, and laughs very loudly at Katya’s jokes. 

They traipse through the city together wearing shorts and flip flops, sipping on Starbucks and touching each other’s hands. Trixie sticks her hand all the way down her shorts as part of Katya’s stupid bit about untucking in the Interior Illusions lounge, and then flashes her underwear like it’s just for him and not a video he’s posting to the entire internet. Everything feels intimate and surreal, and they stay out until the sky gets dark and they’re sticky with sweat.

In the house, they’re like teens without supervision, and every night is a sleepover. They sit around without pants on, screaming laughter into each others’ ears, doing everything but painting each other’s nails. 

There are two rooms, two beds, but they sprawl on the couch together and stay up late. Katya stands just outside the sliding glass door and smokes too many cigarettes, and when he comes back in he catches Trixie dozing on the couch, hat still on her head, phone in hand. 

“Tina Marie,” he whispers, prodding her. She looks sweet, but the delight he gets out of shaking her until she wakes, scrunching up her nose, is too much to pass up.

They peel themselves out of their clothes and climb into bed in the nearest room, the sheets cool against their bare skin. In the morning, Katya wakes up with the warmth of Trixie pressed along his back and an absolutely raging boner. He slides out of bed to go jerk off in the shower before Trixie wakes.

Trixie seems to be pushing Katya further and further, daring him to go as far as he’s willing, and his ability to regulate his behaviour is stretching dangerously thin. The joke is on her though, because when it comes to scruples Katya is fresh out. Has been for decades, in fact. It’s possible he never had any to begin with, but it’s hard to say, the evidence has been tampered with. If Trixie so much as implies a blowjob he will drop to his knees and say the Lord’s Prayer.

When Aaron says he’s in town and asks if they want to do a photoshoot, they almost say no, because neither of them brought any drag. 

“I think it’ll be fun,” Trixie says. “And we don’t have any, like, nice photos together out of drag.” She’s right, and Katya is easily convinced.

So they start shooting dressed in their boy clothes, buttoned all the way up. It’s funny to be in front of a camera dressed down like a civilian; Katya doesn’t like to be looked at, not like this. When he’s in drag he feels like there’s a pane of glass between himself and everybody else, there for them to look and not touch. They pose like they’re both looking off into their bright post-graduate futures, Trixie sitting with his hands folded over one knee, Katya leaning over his shoulder.

Then Aaron suggests that they do some nude shots. Of course he does, of course, it’s like his whole thing. He asks the two of them to stand in while he takes some test shots and gets things set up, and then they’re going to do some portraits with the three of them together.

They strip down to their underwear while Aaron is adjusting his settings, and the air in the studio is thick. Katya watches Trixie stand there in her underwear, hands on her hips. She looks so good it makes him want to strangle himself. 

Aaron gets undressed as well, and Katya catches the way Trixie’s eyes travel over his torso. He’s, like, really hot, objectively, with his broad chest and strong arms and thick mustache. He’s also a friend, one they’ve worked with on the show before, so he knows them, he knows they’re like this. 

They arrange themselves with Aaron in the middle, Trixie and Katya draped over his shoulders like naked little rag dolls. He clicks the remote in his hand over and over, taking shots while the two of them turn out their angles, modeling with no paint and no hair. There’s so much skin and Katya can’t keep all of his limbs in check. He sticks his tongue out, licking along the side of Aaron’s stubbled jaw.

Aaron manages to keep a straight face for the photo and breaks the minute the shutter snaps closed, laughing and doubling over. Across from him, Trixie is tall and lean and smiling, and Katya would like to climb over and pin Trixie against something hard.

“Hey can we- I need to go for a smoke, can we take a break? I have to get out for a smoke,” Katya blurts.

“Yeah, sure, go!” Trixie answers, even though she’s like, not the one in charge.

They need to reset anyway, so she stays back to help and Katya goes out for the cigarette he desperately needs. He throws his shirt on and steps into his sandals, taking his phone and going out in his underwear. It’s whatever, he’s a fag in Palm Springs. And also he doesn’t care. He needs to clear his head.


Outside, Katya smokes two cigarettes in a row, wishing he’d brought his hat as he squints up at the sky. He blows smoke out through his nose, rolling one of his ankles out and then the other. 

They’re going to shoot like fully naked next. Katya shakes himself out, a snake uncoiling, and folds one arm across his chest. It should scare him, to have these moments captured on film. He’s not sure he’s ready to see the look in his own eyes when he’s smiling at Trixie; that shit’s not something you can take back. But he also thinks he can have a little bit more, maybe. He’s pretty sure. Trixie is right there with him. Nobody is forcing her to sit right up next to him on the couch, or on the same side of the fucking booth in restaurants. She’s not stupid, and she’s not the kind of girl who does things she doesn’t want to do.

Katya thinks that extremely counts for something. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling the soft breeze cutting through the parking lot. He slides his foot in and out of his sandal, tapping the sole against the ground, moving it across small rocks and gravel.

He could definitely see how far the fantasy goes. He owes it to himself to do that, at least.

He’s about to light a third cigarette when Trixie comes up behind him and jabs both her thumbs into his kidneys, making him yelp and start. She cackles.

“Stop chain smoking, you fucking whore,” Trixie says, pulling her hat down over her brow. She’s dressed in those tiny shorts and a tank, and she’s chewing gum with her mouth fully open. “You’re lucky I come get you every time. I know you’d smoke an entire pack if we left you out here to your own devices.”

Katya laughs the cigarette out of his mouth, catching it in his hand and putting it away. “I’m at the mercy of my vices again, mother,” he croaks, and Trixie laughs loudly, even though it’s the fourth time Katya has made the joke today. “Okay, fine, I’ll come in, you got any gum?”

“No, this was my last piece.” Trixie shrugs, rubbing at the tip of her nose. 

“Gimme.” Katya sticks out his hand.

Trixie scrunches up her face. “Oh my god, no, Katya, don’t be gross!”

“I’m not kidding, I have smoker breath,” Katya says, grabbing Trixie by the chin. She laughs, her face smushed in his hand. “Don’t make me use my fingers, Tracy, you know I will,” Katya prods, and Trixie makes a cut-off squawk, spitting the gum out into his hand. He pops it into his mouth and chomps on it noisily. 

“You are rotted!” Trixie shrieks. 

“Mama,” Katya grabs her by the upper arm and turns her around, her skin warm beneath his grip. “Alright bitch, let’s go take your clothes off,” he says, and his body carries him back inside, fueled by nicotine and the sound of Trixie’s laughter.


Back inside the studio, Aaron has set a wide bench up on the backdrop. Katya walks right up to it and kicks off his sandals, takes his shirt off again and flings it. 

Trixie squawks out a laugh. “Well, we’re back,” she says, taking off her hat.

Katya is almost fully nude. He hesitates for a brief moment with his hands on the waistband of his underwear, for absolutely no reason at all, because what the fuck does he think is going to happen? It’s a photoshoot, not prom night. 

He takes them off and turns around, gets to see Trixie pulling the tank top off over her head. Katya’s brain stem ignites at the sight of the broad expanse of Trixie’s back.

“How do you want us? Draped and dangling?” he asks Aaron, deflecting his attention. Trixie snorts and hits him with the back of her hand. 

Aaron just laughs and sets them up next to each other, sitting back to back. They each have one knee drawn up in front of their bodies, and Katya’s skin feels hot where it meets Trixie’s. 

It’s easy to fall into step then, next to Trixie, underneath the hot lights. Katya is comfortable like this. He puts his hands on his face, working his angles, moving his arms over his legs. Trixie moans and tosses her head, and Katya reaches back and puts his fingers on Trixie’s cheek.

They switch poses, turning around to face one another, and Trixie straddles the bench. Katya shuffles in close, draping his legs over the creases of Trixie’s hips, sitting right in her lap. He’s extremely aware of how close it brings their dicks, and he can feel the heat being thrown by Trixie’s hot blood. 

They wrap their arms around each other, gazing into the middle distance, and Aaron starts shooting.

Katya is suddenly aware that he doesn’t want to stop touching Trixie. He lets his fingers graze the soft skin of her waist, hooks his elbow around her neck and yanks her down the few inches to press her face to his chest, rubs his hand across her bald head. She laughs and puts her hands on him. 

“Wait, wait,” Katya pauses, a hand against Trixie’s chest. He grabs one of his legs by the calf and as soon as he does Trixie goes, “Oh my god, you fucking idiot.”

He lifts both of his legs all the way up, his ankles and feet over Trixie’s shoulders. Trixie hates when he does this, and that’s why he thinks it’s so funny. He brings his face in close and Trixie recoils. 

“You better not do anything weird,” she says, suspicious. “I mean it, Aaron’s going to get it on film.”

“When have I ever done anything of the sort?” Katya drawls, “I am literally the most straight-laced— the most upstanding young woman you know.” He almost manages to get it out without laughing. 

Trixie just narrows her eyes, turning her face towards the camera, and Katya rests his cheek against hers. He waits until he hears the shutter click, then he turns his head to press his lips against the side of Trixie’s mouth in a kiss. 

She makes a small sound and turns her face towards him, her lips drawn tight in a smile. Then Katya sticks his tongue out, fully licking into Trixie’s mouth and delighting in the way it makes her shut her eyes and scream. Her arms are wrapped tight around his waist.

“Oh my god, I knew you were going to do that!” Trixie shrieks, and Katya laughs, because he can’t go anywhere. “You always do this, why can’t you just kiss me normally?”

“Mama, we are in the presence of polite company,” Katya says, drawing his fingers along the hot skin of Trixie’s back. “I know how to behave.” He feels her shiver, skin prickling and erupting into goosebumps under his hands. It goes unspoken, but he knows Trixie doesn’t need him to say it out loud. Ask me again in private, his touch says. Wait until we’re alone and just ask me again.


After the shoot they’re walking down the street, Katya swinging his arms as he walks along beside Trixie. He keeps glancing over at her, anticipatory. Like he’s waiting for something to break. Looking for something in her expression that says me too and let’s do it. 

“Do you wanna stop for coffee?” Katya asks, when he’s tired of trying to figure it out. He puts his hand on Trixie’s lower back, hot points through the fabric of her shirt, and waits. He needs results, bitch, he wants to make an itinerary. Trixie might be a Virgo but Katya is goal-fucking -oriented.

“Oh sure,” Trixie says, making a show of checking her watch. “It’s only three-thirty, how much worse could my sleep schedule get?” She grins and Katya admires her crooked teeth. 

“Great, I’m cookin out here,” Katya replies. He takes Trixie by the hand, heading off down the street towards the sign with the coffee cup on it. Nobody knows them here, and it makes him bold.

Trixie holds onto Katya’s hand the whole way to the shop. It’s hot and sticky outside, and the rush of cool air as they enter wakes Katya up. He feels Trixie shiver too.  

She takes her phone out, flicking through notifications the way she does when she needs to fill downtime, but she doesn’t let go of Katya’s hand. He walks her to the counter, making a show of staring at the drink board, swinging their clasped hands back and forth. Trixie still doesn’t let go. He hears her shuffling, moving from one flip-flopped foot to the other. 

So Kayta closes the gap.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks. He feels her shift, towards him.

Trixie wrinkles her nose, the way she does when she thinks he’s being gross. “Oh I don’t know, just like, an iced tea probably,” she says, her voice all nasal and tinny. 

“Shut up!” Katya laughs and lets go of her hand, grabbing onto her shoulder instead. “I mean it, I’m buying.” He lets his hand trail down Trixie’s arm, fingers against the soft skin of her inner wrist. He feels her pulse, thumping steady beneath his grip.

“Really?” Trixie puts her phone back in her pocket, “Are you sure?” She looks between the menu and Katya again, slowly, and clarifies. What kind of game are you playing?

“Yeah, darling, my treat,” Katya answers, pushing the pet name, sincere. He slides his palm flush with hers. It’s not a game.

“Okay... werk,” Trixie says, surprise in her voice. She pulls Katya in by his hand, bumping their shoulders together. She likes touching when she’s not suspicious of the intent, and she stays close as they move up to the counter. 

The tension is drawing out between them just so, like a soap bubble suspended between the webbing of two fingers. If they move together, they can share the iridescent film, reflecting in the sunlight. 

Katya doesn’t even catch what Trixie asks for, honestly. He puts his hand on Trixie’s lower back, turning towards her as she orders. He just gets to look at her while she talks to the barista; it makes him feel like her boyfriend. He orders his own drink, pays for everything and sticks his wallet back in his pocket, keeping his hand on Trixie, gently directing her as they move towards the other end of the counter.

Trixie is content, letting Katya’s hand press hot against her back. She doesn’t flinch away, and Katya rubs back and forth, softly. Something that could be passed off as absent, if every single movement weren’t perfectly and deliberately orchestrated. Trixie makes a small sound of affirmation, presses ever so slightly back against Katya’s palm, so he pushes it. He lets his hand slide down, onto her ass, and waits. 

It’s like she’s deliberately ignoring him, staring forward while the barista makes drinks. There are a few people ahead of them, and Katya’s got nothing but time. He runs his hand over the swell of Trixie’s ass; she keeps her eyes forward. He squeezes, just a little pressure, and watches as her mouth opens a fraction of an inch. 

Then he presses in, draws his fingers up the crease of her ass. Trixie’s head snaps towards him. She doesn’t say anything, just fixes him with a look. One that says, what are you doing? 

Katya knows what he’s doing is dangerous. But he’s taking a calculated risk. The hitch in Trixie’s breathing, the way she’s standing so casually, with her arms folded carefully across her chest; she’s on board.

Plus, like, there isn’t even anyone behind them to see, so there are virtually no consequences. He slides his hand between Trixie’s thighs. 

Oh my god,” Trixie hisses, her voice quiet. “Katya!”

“Hm?” Katya asks, his expression blithe and open. He draws his knuckles up over Trixie’s tailbone and feels her shiver, then she twists and grabs him by the wrist.

“Seriously! You can’t,” Trixie’s voice is hushed, but her mouth is pulled tight as she tries not to smile.

“I’m not.” Katya’s hand retreats to the safety of Trixie’s upper back, splayed flat between her shoulder blades. 

Trixie’s eyes are flicking across his face, and he can see the way she’s calculating, adding up all the integers. 

“Do you want me to?” Katya asks. He watches Trixie glance at the barista, who’s handing a person their drink and paying absolutely zero attention to the gays putting their hands on each other in the corner. Trixie turns back to him, her eyes on his mouth. She’s taking her time, stalling, so Katya puts his arm around her waist. It turns their bodies flush, and he feels the heat of her skin where they touch. 


Katya holds Trixie’s gaze. She puts her hand across his chest, holding him back, keeping him from her.

Is this what you want?

“Brian?” The barista calls out again. Both of their heads turn. Their drinks are ready.

“Yup! Thank you!” Trixie calls out, breaking off to collect their coffees. 

Katya watches her go.


The sun is almost down by the time they get back to the house. 

Katya unlocks the door and Trixie is at his heels, following him inside. He goes to the fridge immediately and pours himself a big glass of water from the filter, gulping half down. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and pants, mouth open. Trixie has her phone out, scrolling, focused on the screen. She comes over and leans against the counter next to Katya, pinching one of her earlobes. She keeps her eyes down.

The tension is drawing out between them, the string on a bow pulled tight. Katya presses the cold glass to Trixie’s arm, and she jolts, looking up. She takes it from him and just drinks the rest, setting it down on the counter. She doesn’t even make a joke about backwash. 

Katya isn’t hungry. He stands close, watching Trixie’s face. His tongue feels too big for his mouth, but he’s worried if he moves too fast he might blow his chance. She is right here and it’s making him thrum with a frenetic energy, something he feels crackle through him like lightning.

“Hey,” Katya says, and Trixie opens her mouth at the same time. “I might-”

He stops, gestures for her to continue.

“I might go take a shower,” she says. Katya watches her throat. He doesn’t want to interrupt this for anything, because the window is getting smaller and smaller. If Trixie leaves the room it’s fuckin’ game over. 

“Don’t.” Katya nocks the arrow.

“Katya…” Trixie puts her phone down on the counter. Katya can see the rise and fall of her chest, fast and shallow. He swallows and steps close, wraps an arm across his own chest to keep himself from her.

She meets his gaze. She looks scared, but Katya notices the way her eyes dart down to his mouth and back.

“Ask me again,” he says. Trixie has to be feeling his breath on her neck. “Come on, do it.”

Trixie opens her mouth, and her voice is quiet when she speaks. “How come- how come you never kiss me normally?” 

Katya rubs his hand back and forth over his chest, feeling his insides thumping one inch to the left. He’s pulled towards her like, like she’s a magnet drawing him in by the very blood in his veins.

“Please, Trixie, can I?” he asks, his voice hushed. Trixie whimpers and jerks towards him. Bullseye.

Katya reaches out and knocks Trixie’s hat off her head. The sun is sinking and orange light streams in through the sliding glass door, making her eyes shine golden. He reaches out because he’s allowed to touch her now, and he puts his hand along the angle of her jaw. She presses into his touch like a cat.

Then Katya kisses her.

It’s different and it’s the same. He has kissed Trixie many times before, has put his tongue in her mouth just today even, but it’s never been like this. 

Trixie opens up to him immediately. She leans into Katya, putting both her hands on his chest, and kisses him back, her mouth soft against his. She is warm and pliant, and she sucks Katya’s lower lip between hers, presses her entire body against him. 

They kiss like that for a while, hot and feverish, and when Katya feels dizzy with want, he pulls back to look at her. Trixie’s mouth is kissed pink, and she looks so good he can barely stand it. 

“Jesus, Tracy.” He breathes out. His ears are ringing.

Trixie smiles, a look that goes straight to his cock. She reaches behind herself and places the heels of her palms on the counter, hoists herself up onto it. Katya lets out an undignified sound. 

Trixie nudges her knees apart, and Katya stares at the way it pulls her shorts up, how it emphasizes her dick. He’s propelled towards her, coming to stand in the vee of her legs. He puts his hands on her knees, sliding them up her thighs, and she’s thick beneath his palms, hot blood and sinew. Katya feels his heartbeat spike.

“God,” he says, raking his gaze up Trixie’s torso, over her broad chest and shoulders. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy.” He licks his lips, cards a hand through his hair. 

“Oh my god,” Trixie honks, grabbing him by the head. “Shut up.” She brings her face in close, smashing her mouth against his. 

Katya feels delirious, rocking up towards her like a teenager. Trixie puts her tongue into his mouth, wet and dirty, and Katya gets a hand between them, rubs the heel of his palm against Trixie’s cock in those criminally tight shorts. She’s hard already, and it makes Katya groan, sliding his hand along her length.

“Jesus Christ,” Katya breathes, catching the way Trixie’s breath hitches as he squeezes her. “Trixie, Trix, I wanna fuck you. Wait- I wanna blow you, and then I wanna fuck you.”

“I wish you would,” she says, warbly. She shifts her dick up against his touch and closes one of her big hands over the back of his neck, and something in Katya’s brain clicks on. 

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, and yanks Trixie by her knees until she slides off the counter. She yelps and falls against him, their bodies flush, and Katya can see the way her pupils are blown, can feel the thump of her heartbeat against his. “Let’s go, c’mon, couch.” Katya walks her backwards to the living room. 

“Fuck, shut up,” Trixie says, chasing his mouth. “I like it when you’re bossy, what is wrong with me.”

Katya laughs. It’s easy, now that he’s got her. She can’t stop kissing him, her hands on his arms, around his neck. “I don’t know, but you better let me check it out,” he says, electrified by the way it makes Trixie laugh and sink back onto the couch. “It could be serious.” 

Katya already knows how to maneuver her with touch, and he follows her down, putting his hand at the back of her knee, watching her fold in on herself. Trixie breathes, and Katya simply slides down, settling himself between her legs. He presses his face against the juncture of Trixie’s thigh, feels the heat of her dick radiating through the fabric. 

“God,” Trixie moans, her mouth open. Katya drags his tongue up over her dick, the fabric of her shorts catching in his mouth. “Stop it,” she whines, shifting beneath him. She has one arm folded up behind her head, propped against the arm of the couch. 

The other one is hovering near Katya’s face, like she wants to do something gay like stroke his cheek. Instead she reaches into her shorts and takes her cock out, right in front of Katya’s face.

He just manages not to drool on himself. 

“Holy shit.”

It’s not like Katya’s never seen Trixie’s dick before. He knows she’s big and uncut. He’s just never had her hot and hard and leaking precome, waiting patiently for him to close his lips around her. He swallows audibly.

Trixie has her fingers looped around the base, and Katya covers his hand with hers. They lock eyes for a moment, and then Trixie lets go. He’s got her.

“Jesus Christ, Trixie! Like, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Katya feels reverent, and he dips his head to lick up the vein on the underside of Trixie’s dick. “You have the most beautiful cock I’ve literally ever seen.” He takes the tip of her into his mouth and lets his eyes slide closed, listening to her exhale, slow and deliberate.

Trixie pushes Katya’s hat back off of his head as he starts blowing her properly, rubbing her hand over the crest of his head, through his short hair. She’s making pleased little affirmative sounds, rolling her hips with his movement, and when Katya glances up he can see that her eyes are closed, an open smile on her face.

“Okay, wait, you need to take your clothes off,” Trixie says suddenly, and she pushes Katya up and off of her. He laughs, insane, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sitting back on his knees. Trixie is pulling her tank top up and off over her head, rolling to take her shorts and underwear off. 

The sun casts shadows over Trixie’s neck and shoulders, and Katya cannot get enough of the way she looks. He’s going to have wet dreams about this for the rest of his life. He’s going to be standing in line in a grocery store and just be overcome thinking about the red birthmark on Trixie’s chest, or his mouth will start watering when he’s at the gym, because he can’t get the way her dick bobs out of his head.

Katya belatedly realizes he’s just staring, and scrambles to catch up. He gets his bottoms off before Trixie is on him, her mouth against his pulse, her hands pushing his shirt up. She presses her hips close, and it makes him fucking jolt with electricity.

“Alright, alright,” Katya breathes, and Trixie climbs on top of him, pushing him down onto the couch. She laughs into his skin, covers him with kisses and saliva. Katya is intoxicated with it. He lets her lift his shirt up and over his head, trapping his arms in a tangle of sweaty cotton. 

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Trixie says, settling between Katya’s knees, her weight pressing against his chest and trapping his dick between their bodies. She braces her hands on either side of Katya’s head, and she dips her head down, tries to catch his tongue in her mouth. He’s always admired the singularly determined way Trixie goes after the things she wants.

“Me? I can’t believe you, mama- I can’t believe this fucking body.” Katya runs his hands down Trixie’s back and hauls her up by her ass, grinding up against her. He forgets sometimes, under all the pink and the frilly Barbie shit that she’s a man, Maury. “Ugh, god, I gotta fuck you. Please, you gotta let me fuck you.” 

“Wait,” Trixie moans against his neck, sucking hard against the skin along the column of Katya’s throat. “Wait, I didn’t- I’m not like, ready-” She squirms, and he feels the slide of her dick against his inner thigh.

“Is this what not ready looks like?” Katya turns his head, his mouth against Trixie’s ear. He flicks his tongue out and feels the full body shudder that ripples through her. “Bitch, you’re practically drooling.”

“No, you idiot, I didn’t prep,” she interrupts him, but her voice isn’t mean in the slightest. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t planning on having sex today, if you can believe it.”

“That’s poor planning on your part,” Katya laughs. “Shortsighted. I for one am prepared for sexual activity at any given moment.” He shifts, up on his elbows, forcing Trixie up off of him. “I think we can make it work though, honey, here- come up a bit,” He nudges her up so she sits across his waist, the curve of her ass pressing back against his dick.

“Like that?” Trixie asks, moving her hips experimentally, and Katya watches as her cock slides along his stomach. He rubs his thumb over the head of it, pushing her foreskin back gently. Trixie shifts again with his touch, and Katya grinds up against the crease of her ass.

“Yeah, you got it, just like that,” he murmurs, sliding his fist, jacking her off. Trixie groans and bends over, putting her mouth on Katya’s. He feels so sweaty beneath her, his neck bunched up against the arm of the couch. 

It’s gotten dim in the room, the last light of dusk leaking in through the window. Trixie sits up, straddling Katya, rubbing a hand back over her head as if she’s pushing hair out of her face. She looks so fucking good, moving like she’s riding him proper, cowgirl. Katya watches as she finds the groove of it, rocking her ass back against his cock, fucking forward into his fist. She casts a shadow over his face and he feels enveloped by her.

“That’s it, huh?” Katya asks. “You like that?” He runs his free hand along Trixie’s thigh, grabbing at her hip. “Lemme see it.” He wants her to let go. He wants her to run him through, to fucking throttle him. 

“God-” Trixie chokes, “I hate you, you’re so stupid.” She pants, her dick wet in his hand. He squeezes, feels her twitch in his grip. 

“I don’t think so, baby, I think you’re lying to me.” Katya smiles, cause he’s got her drawn tight now. He twists his hand, thrusting up against Trixie, watching her try to fuck back onto his dick. “I think you like me so much.”

“No. You’re a bridge troll, obviously.” Trixie dips her head, her chin down, sweat glistening on her brow. “Fuck, that feels good.” She braces herself with both hands on Katya’s chest, her entire body an arching curve. She looks so pretty.

“Yeah, you like me as much as I like you, don’t you?” Katya asks her, licking the palm of his hand and working his fist over her cock, gently taking her balls in his other hand. Trixie makes a sound like she’s wounded, folding forwards over him. “You look gorgeous,” Katya continues. He watches the way Trixie’s mouth works, her throat moving as she swallows. “I’ve been fuckin’ waiting for this, y’know. I mean, you’re dumb but you’re not stupid.”

“Fuck you,” Trixie says, and she puts a hand on his mouth, slides it down over his throat. It sparks something in Katya, and he shifts suddenly, tipping Trixie off-balance. She yelps, surprised, and Katya pushes her down on the couch, onto her back.

“I’m trying to,” he huffs out, a half smile on his face. “Put your knees together, turn them to the side for me.” Trixie does, her chest pink, and Katya pushes his dick between her thighs, the pressure firm. He watches her prop herself up on her elbow, wrap her hand tight around her cock.

Katya can fuck her then, in the near darkness. He rocks his hips, slick with precome and sweat, the friction of Trixie’s soft, inner thighs almost snuffing him out. “Come on, I wanna see you lose it, Trixie.”

Oh, my god,” Trixie says, and she sounds surprisingly annoyed, for how quickly her fist is moving over her dick. “You’re an actual crazy person, god, and I’m so attracted to you. Fuck, don’t stop, I want it.” She moans, stuttery, eyes squeezed shut. “Please, I want it.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Katya says, kneading her ass with his left hand. “I’m gonna, but you gotta let go for me.” He fucks her harder, snapping his hips.

“Just like that,” he coaxes her, “I know you’re close, I know you been wanting this, honey.” Trixie makes breathy little sounds, her voice pitched low, and Katya runs his thumb along her lower lip. “I know I have been dying to see that pretty pink cock of yours.”

“Fuck, I- I’m-!” Trixie groans and jerks, coming over her fist, making a mess of the couch. 

“Yeah, that’s it baby, oof, look at that,” Katya praises her, slowing his movements. He rubs his hand along her thigh. “I don’t think Airbnb is gonna like that,” he teases, and Trixie presses her face into the cushion, screaming out a laugh.

Katya pulls away, sitting back on his knees. He’s unraveling. Trixie is flopped on the couch, face and big stupid ears all red. Katya has waited so long to see her like this. The light is cast purple in the twilight, and he thinks, like this, Trixie is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He’s so fucking gay.

Trixie gets up, wobbly, leaning heavily against the back of the couch. “Your turn, you fuckin’ weirdo,” she says, rubbing a hand over her own chest. She crowds into his space, clumsy limbs, fits her big hand over his, wrapped around his dick.

“Jesus,” Katya pants, his head spinning. “You’re the worst person I know,” he says. 

Trixie laughs, hoarsely, and it doesn’t take long. She kisses him sloppily, slides her come-covered fist over the head of Katya’s cock a few times, wringing it out of him, pulling him straight through. He bites her lip, brow furrowed, and comes, overcome by the heat of her breath and the smell of her skin.

“Fuck,” he says, and takes a few shuddering breaths.

“I know,” Trixie responds, and rests her head against his, the incorrigible fag that she is.


They take a shower together, afterwards. 

Trixie touches him so much, sliding her hands over the planes of Katya’s back, hands soapy. She even washes his hair for him, her fingers tender and beauty school precise. Katya lets himself melt into it, lets himself lean against her with his full weight, turns in her arms to kiss her warm and gentle.

There’s only one towel, because they left the rest of them outside by the pool, so they shake themselves off like dogs, quick-dry. They’ve barely turned any lights on, and the house is dim. It emphasizes everything Katya likes about a vacation, the feeling of impermanence, the way he has to rely more heavily on his senses to navigate his way to the bedroom. 

He climbs into bed next to Trixie. The sheets stick slightly to their damp skin. 

Moonlight is starting to come in through the open window, and Katya can hear the soft sounds of the city outside, the desert beyond it. The rest of the world is already asleep, and a chill runs through him, feeling alone in the night.

“Hey,” he says, into the quiet of the room.

“Yeah?” Trixie asks. 

Katya is lying on his back, and in his peripheral he sees her shift towards him on her side, her face completely in shadow. “What are we gonna do?” He hates being that person, but his mind goes there. “About this?” And he has to voice it, he’s literally compelled to be honest, the thought of keeping it to himself makes him wrinkle his nose in disgust.

He hears the way Trixie exhales long and slow. She shifts closer, her weight dipping the bed, and comes to rest her head carefully on his chest.

They lie like that for a while, and then Trixie says, “I don’t know.”

Katya feels her hand creep up onto his stomach and reaches for it, covering her fingers with his. 

“Like, I think… it’s gonna be fine,” Trixie murmurs, voice soft. “I know that’s like, really gay-”

“Oh, so gross,” Katya interrupts.

“Shut up. I think it’s gonna be okay. I want it to be.”

Katya is quiet for a long time. 

He stares up at the ceiling, watching shadows grow long and dance across it. After a while, he notices when Trixie falls asleep, her breathing becoming deep and even, her hand slack beneath his.

He decides he’s going to trust her. 

He thinks it’s gonna be okay too.