It was Django’s turn to whistle when Chasin emerged from the bathroom in that shimmery little number that left very little to the imagination. Or rather, Django thought, just enough. It isn’t like he hasn’t to imagine – he’s seen everything Chasin has to offer more than once. However, seeing the younger man in something like this? Something that’s just suggestive enough to arouse even Django’s curiosity, it’s exactly what he hoped for when he said he wanted Chasin in something slinky. It compliments his body quite well, showing off his skin, and ink, and shape. Despite being a slim guy, Chasin’s got that lithe muscle that, covered by most clothing, remains hidden from the eye.

Now sitting on the edge of the bed, Django gave him a blatant over and nodded his approval. The spin was nice, but that doesn’t stop Django from pushing himself off the bed to walk around Chasin for a closer look. He trailed his calloused fingers along the young man’s arm, over his bare back, across a shoulder.

“Looks perfect. But that all depends on what you’ve got on underneath it.” Nothing, he hoped.