#genuinely someone tell me what is the sexiest word for leg clothes I am begging

[yeetlegay]

Writing all this m/m smut recently has forced me into the unsettling realization that I have no idea what to call the clothes men put on their legs. Pants? Trousers? Slacks? Bottoms? Every time I write the word pants I feel like I’m saying they’re taking off their underwear, but trousers is what an old British lady would call them, and slacks is what my grandma would call them, and bottoms is what I would call the entire cast of characters in Kinnporsche, so wtf are my options here?

[eerythingisshaka]

Always

[Yahya Abdul-Mateen II & Reader]

Word Count: 3k

A/N:  I was reminded of a music video that captivated me when I was younger.  This dude named Paolo Nutini made a song called Candy and the video followed a wedding from party to the couples night.  So I got inspired to do this fluffy angsty thing.

“And welcome to the floor, Mr. and Mrs. Abdul-Mateen!!”

Your loved ones explode in cheers and applause as you and Yahya enter hand in hand into the hall.  Spotlights find you both, making you shield your eyes but your giddiness could not be quelled by anything at that moment.  You feel Yahya’s hand squeeze yours tighter, and you see him smiling wide down at you.

The crowd is still raucous but all other sounds mute as you see his lips move to say,  “You ready, baby?”

Your cheeks ache with happiness as he takes you by your waist and lands a smooch on you that nearly knocks you off your feet.  He even had the nerve to get sloppy with tongue which you knew was all for show because sloppy is not a part of his vocabulary.

“Alright bride and groom, come over to the table of honor so we can get toasts started!”  Your cousin you hired as emcee instructs over the intercom to break up the PDA.

Yahya pulls away, wiping his mouth and faking embarrassment as he leads you by the hand to your throne at the head of the main table.

Seeing the smiling faces of your whole family fills your heart as you take your seats.  Feeling your eyes well up, you pull the folded napkin off your plate to carefully blot the tears away.

Yahya lays an arm across your shoulders whispering in your ear, “You alright?”

You nod wordlessly, patting his leg for confirmation.  

“Aww, aren’t they the cutest couple everyone!  We haven’t even gotten to the speeches yet and you’re bawling.  Girl don’t mess up my beat on you!”  Your cousin had also helped with your makeup last minute when the artist arrived an hour and 17 minutes late (you kept count).

You wave your napkin at her to continue as Yahya popped the champagne bottle chilled in front of you, causing yet another whoop from your families.  Yahya fist pumps as he pours it expertly into yours and his glasses.  Your cousin continues the evening with a musical selection and eventually toasts.

Both sides of your families seemed to have their fair share of comedians.  

“It’s about time someone made an honest man out of him!  And the fact he doesn’t mind that you’re cuter than him, sends me!”  his sister guffaws with the crowd at this crack.

Yahya just shrugs, holding you close next to him.

“It’s true!”  You say under your breath.

“You may be cuter, but I still beat you in fashion, hands down,” he retorts.

You sit up and point to yourself.  “My titties are SITTING.  This hair?  LAID.  My dress?  EXPENSIVE and DESIGNER.”

Yahya rolls his eyes.  “See what you did?  Talk.  While my fit speaks for itself.”

You pick up your champagne glass and level it right under his nose.  “Negro, I have half a mind to toss this drink in your face.”

Yahya grabs his glass, wrapping his arm through yours to take a drink while tipping the bottom of yours toward your mouth.

“And that concludes our toasts!  To the happy couple!”  

You peer at him as he winks at you, taking a slow sip.  Eventually you both take a bow and are ushered over to take pictures in the garden area as the DJ spins and the buffet is opened.

The mid afternoon sun was gorgeous against the lush greenery of the environment.

“You still want to take pictures with me?  Since I can’t dress worth a damn,”  you say in a pitiful tone.

Yahya waves at the photographer.  “What’re you talking about?”

You kiss your teeth.  “How quickly you forget.  Can’t wait to celebrate our anniversary with that memory of yours.”

The photographer greets you both.  “Congrats guys.  You both look splendid and beautiful and so in love, I could just add you to my Netflix list.”

“Thank you.  Where do you want us?”  Yahya asks.

The photographer points toward an archway that looks like heaven’s light is misting through it.  As you both walk hand in hand up to it, you put on the funk extra hard.

“Now don’t forget to smile real big for me guys.  Really revel in the love!”

Yahya and you both smile for some traditional shots, your impatience ticking up with each click of the shutter.  The photographer directs you to look at each other and Yahya wraps his arms around your waist as you wrap your around his neck.

“Perfect guys, even got the ring glowing,” the photographer says.

Yahya looks at you with mischievous eyes and an expression like he is holding back a laugh.

You roll your eyes.  “Nothing’s funny.”

“You are.”

“It’s not supposed to be.  How you gonna tell me I’m ugly on the biggest day of my life?”

“Did I ever say you ugly?  In fact I remember confirming that you are cute.”

“And then swiftly saying I dress badly.  What bride wants to hear that?”

His fingers run up and down your spine as he sways from side to side, leading you into his rhythm.

“You know what?  I gotta say it cuz it’s only right.  I am sorry.”  Yahya says genuinely.

You sigh deeply.  “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I called you cute…”

“YAHYA!”  You yelp, pulling his ear and making him wince.

“Aww, that’s cute guys.  Playful, I like it!”  The photographer naively encourages you.

“Ow ow!  Ok ok, listen, stop!”  Yahya begs until you let go of his lobe.  Yahya massages his abused ear and continues.

“I mean I shouldn’t say you’re cute because you’re not.  You are...so fine.”

“Oh...shut up.”  You say in annoyance.

Yahya holds you closer, gaze lingering on your face.  “You are the sexiest woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

“Whatever,” you say in a less aggressive tone.

“And although I would compliment a woman’s mind before their body, yours keeps me distracted from being able to form cohesive thought, and I do apologize for my ways.”

You naturally rub the back of his head, growing softer in his arms.  “...Don’t apologize for that.”

Yahya shakes his head, moaning an old spiritual groan.  “Noooo ma’am, I must.  I am a gentleman at most times, but you bring out a side I can’t shake that is otherwise.  And I only say what I said about your clothes because you look best with them off of you.”

You snicker and push away as Yahya laughs out loud at your shyness. 

“Come on back here.  You done started something, if you’re not in front of me, our photographer is gonna capture a big moment we can’t show our family in the album.”

You feel exactly what  he means, holding his face in your hands as you shake your head.  “You dirty bastard.”

“That’s your fault, don’t blame me!” 

You pull him in for a kiss, becoming intoxicated with his spirit.  The things that annoy you can be the same things that pull you out of a funk and you love that about him.  His smile, his humor, his sex appeal without even trying and it was all for you until death do you part.

“Gorgeous!  Incredible!  Steamy!”  The photographer cheers, snapping you out of the intimate trance you were under, but Yahya could barely stop himself.

“Save it for later baby,”  you tell him in a husky tone, biting your lip over your over naughtiness.

You wipe your lipstick off his lips as he says, “I love you, sweetheart.  Always.”

“I love you.  Always,” you parrot back.

By the time you both are back in the hall, the part is jumping as your family and friends had their fill of food and drink, stepping to the choreography of the Wobble.  The DJ cut the song prematurely to announce the cutting of the cake as Yahya grabbed the knife to cut a sliver and guide it to your mouth.  You took a humble bite as the crowd applauds while you cut him a piece.  Yahya’s smile lights up as you hold out his piece before shoving it into his lips and nose.  The attendees gasp and laugh as the photographer captures the moment of cake being smashed on Yahya’s perfect grin.  He is stunned but recovers gracefully, licking some cake off his lips.  You clap for him, reaching for a napkin to help clean him but suddenly your body is pulled into his as he plants a kiss on you, making sure to transfer some cake onto you, generating even more laughter from your guests.  

You couldn’t help but laugh into him as he dramatically moves his face around yours, bumping your nose with his and parting to see his masterpiece.  You both laugh out loud, until finally cleaning your fun away and making it to the dance floor for your first dance.  

You can’t keep your eyes off of each other as your song As by Stevie Wonder came on over the speakers.  The floating nature of the opening verse makes you feel even more like you’re in a dream.  Yahya can’t keep his mouth still, singing along with the lyrics and holding you closer than his own skin.  When the chorus picks up, Yahya leads your two step, spinning you around to show you off, hands reaching a little lower than you would usually want in front of family but you didn’t care at all.  You made sure to get your solo dance in front of him, shaking your titties and throwing ass on your husband without shame.

Eventually your families joined the dance floor, surrounding you both with congratulations.  As the night wore on, it was time to head off for the evening.  You both were sent off with well wishes as the DJ continues to spin.  Your ride waited outside as you waved and ran to the backseat to be driven to your hotel.

The quiet of the car was odd coming straight out of the party.  Your ears rang a little bit and you finally felt the effects of walking around in heels for hours, kicking them off.

Yahya looks over at your feet, pulling your leg up on his lap to rub your feet.  “You tired?”

You lean back taking a deep breath.  “A little.  You?”

Yahya shrugs.  “I could stay up a little longer.”  He smirks at you in a sneaky way that tells you everything you need to know.

You chuckle, patting his arm.  “I know baby, we will.  Ooh, just keep rubbing like that.”

“That feels good?”  Yahya asks, get right at the soft pad under your toes. 

“Ohhh, yes!”  You moan, sinking into your seat with pleasure.

“Excuse me!  Sex in the cab is prohibited.  Please refrain.  And congratulations,”  the driver says.

You and Yahya share a glance before chuckling at the driver’s mistake.  “We got you sir, don’t worry about it.  Just can’t keep my hands off my wife.”  Yahya responds, taking your other foot onto his lap.

Arriving at the room of your hotel was an obstacle course.  The dress and veil is a dead giveaway for strangers to take the time to yell congrats at you both.  A wave of relief wash over you as Yahya begins to insert the key and opens the door for you.  You start to walk in but he blocks you.

“What?  I have to pee, come on,”  you hop on your bare feet, whining.

Yahya tosses your shoes inside before looking at you like a disappointed parent.  

“You just wanna ruin tradition, huh?  As a man I have to carry my lady over the threshold.”

“This isn’t our house or something!  It’s just the hotel, carry me later.  I have to go, please!”

“Aight, come on.”  Yahya bends to scoop you up making you yelp in surprise.

“Dammit, you’re gonna make me pee more!”  You squeeze your legs tight and his head tighter as he walks you in.

“I love my baby, pee and all!”  he sets you down but you practically jump out of his arms to the bathroom.  Hiking up your dress, you plant down and release gratefully.  A box sits on the counter across from you  with a ribbon on it that intrigues you.  Finishing, you get up to open the top to see a frisky negligee and thong set.

You shake your head, picking up the barely there clothing and smiling to yourself over what Yahya must’ve looked like having this picked out ahead of time.  Feeling for the zipper on your dress, you get ready to change.  

“Baby!  The alcohol is getting cold, hurry up!  HA!”  Yahya laughs in glee, twisting the corkscrew in to work it open.  With a pop, he got the glasses filled with some wine.

You open the bathroom door and see him shirtless, pouring the drinks.  The room is dead quiet except for the glug of the liquid and you get caught up in his physique.  It’s not the first time, but you feel renewed any time you see him from behind.  The sculpt of each isolated muscle that embedded his back down to the dips above the waist of his pants barely hanging onto his hips.  Although the glasses weigh practically nothing, his arms flexed as if he was keeping the world rotating on its axis.  

When he turns to see you, his body tenses, mouth half hanging open.  He stumbles to set down the wine as his eyes refuse to leave your direction.  You feel so many hormones rushing through your body, it's hard to concentrate on what’s to happen next.  It feels like pins are dancing across your skin as excitement works its effects on you, a primal need for him to touch you whilst keeping your distance.

“You look…”  Yahya’s voice trails off.

“I can dress now, huh?  But you picked it out, so points to you,”  you say cooly as you walk over to the waiting glass of wine, bringing it up to your lips as you watch him watch you.  

“It’s the best of both worlds: that color on you is spectacular but leaves nothing to the imagination.”  Yahya paws at the lace that cups your breast, not quite touching you.  You feel your body pull toward him under his light touch, wanting more but you refuse yourself.  Looking over at the bed you see the rose petals scattered across the duvet.

“Aww, you decorated?”  You walk over to pick up a petal, feeling it’s softness under your fingertips.  His hands snake across your stomach, pulling you backwards a bit so that you feel his desire.

Your breath hitches in your throat, resting your hands over his  while your hips back into him.

“That’s not the only thing I want on this bed.”  Yahya growls into your ear, palming your breast roughly as you feel your body bend over for him.

You’re breathing hard as your body pulsates under his touch, naturally seeking the release he so wants to provide.

“Wait, move a second.”  You override your senses to push away from under him, crawling across the bed to sit on the other end.  The curtains on the windows still show the city lights in the distance for you to stare into.

“Something wrong?”  He asks.

You feel yourself cooling as you get your thoughts together.  “The city is gorgeous, ain’t it...Yahya?”  

“Yeah it’s nice but what’s on your mind?”  Yahya asks, crawling over the bed behind you.

You shrug.  “It’s just crazy after all this planning, it’s done.  This is it: married life.”  You look over your shoulder at him and smirk.

“Well this isn’t all of it yet,”  he says, kissing your shoulder, up to your neck.  You hold his head, leaning into his lips as his hands reach your waist to pull you back onto the bed.

He pulls your negligee over your head as you lay back, enjoying his mouth grazing every inch of skin, feeling the pull of your underwear as he works his lips down your belly.

“You love me?”  You ask breathlessly as your legs lift for him to finish undressing you completely.  He looks over your fully exposed form with hunger, running his hands over your thighs.

“I love you, more than you know.”  

You reach for the button of pants, helping him take off the unnecessary clothes.  As he crawls up to meet between you, you feel your body tense up again.

“I got you.”  Yahya says softly, kissing your breasts again.

You claw the width of his back as you feel him tease against you.  Your legs wrap around him.

“God, I love you so much, baby.”  You moan under him, bringing his face to yours, taking him into you for the first time as man and wife.  

“You still taste sweet,”  you observe from the remnants of cake he ate earlier.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have reminded me about that.  I’m gonna get you back for real now.”

You gleefully accept your fate as Yahya pushes your body's pleasure to its edge.  You become one in a new way that shakes you up as he washes away every doubt and worry with each stroke.  You tasted his ecstasy on your tongue and you welcomed it warmly.  You both had never said I love you so much in one night as you had then, taking in each other's devotion completely, climaxing quicker than you ever had.  If this was married life, you could get used to it.

The next morning, the sun bathes you both in a soft glow, waking you.  You see the half drank wine on the table across from you and the discarded clothing littering the floor.  Yahya’s arms pins you to the bed as you feel the urge to pee.  Grabbing his wrist, you hear him groan.

“Don’t you dare leave me in this bed alone.”  Yahya says sleepily, pulling you in tighter.

You look back at him amused.  “But I have to pee.”

“Again?  Damn.  I’m starting to think you're just trying to run away from me.”

You turn over to look at him, eyes closed with a dramatic frown.  You smack his face playfully.

“Hey.  Runaway bride is before the vows.  It’s too late for me to do that now.” 

He peeks one eye open at you.  “You damn right.  You my woman now, hitched!  Got it?”  

“And you my man, you hear me Yahya Abdul-Mateen II?”   You say, getting up to scurry to the toilet.

“That’s right Mrs. Abdul-Mateen!  Madly in love!  Head over heels...like how I had your heels over your head last night...”

Masterlist