Head Over Heels

Author's Note: I figured 'Stilettos' could do with a little sequel, the ending also sets it up for yet another high heels kink ^^

Disclaimer: I own a pair of zebra print stilettos, that's all.

No longer do they continue to exist as two separate beings as in this moment they have become one single entity; a part, however miniscule, however fleeting, of each man exists within the other. Their senses are radically heightened and their every sound, from a low groan to a lustful sigh, and their every movement be it a sudden unwitting tremble or a sharp thrust, is significantly enhanced until everything that exists around them simply fades and slips away and it is just them and their desires.

Driven by passion alone, the younger man feels everything; every thrust as he forces himself deeper still into the brunette; every one of the older man's transient movements beneath him coupled with his loud exhales of pleasure. Their bodies slick with sweat, they are truly made for one another and they fit together wonderfully much like the long since missing pieces of a puzzle. Together, they are nothing short of perfection.

He looks down at the detective as he grips the bed sheets tightly in his small fists and he observes in the fading light the half-closed and rapidly fluttering eyelids, the deep lines that form on the light skin of his forehead as his face creases in an enchanting combination of pain and ecstasy that is ultimately striking. Thin lips part slightly and the older man gasps out loudly in a helpless manner as he throws his head back against the pillow case and tightens around Stuart.

The narrow black box lies discarded on the floor, forgotten and empty save for the pale pink crepe paper that spills over the sides.

The cool leather heels of a pair of staggering white stilettos dig sharply into the blonde man's lower back leaving behind a fleeting sense of dull pain that only encourages him to continue to push harder and faster until he feels that familiar tingling sensation rising up inside of him. Breathing hard, he finds himself struggling to think as that feeling washes over him, and when the backs of Robbie's high heels dig further into his skin and he loses his control he does not quite know whether it is he or Robbie that cries out in the empty flat, or if he has imagined it.

His arms feel weak beneath his weight and for several long moments they quiver feebly beneath him before he collapses against his partner. One of Robbie's shoes, shocking white in colour with an eye-catching zebra print pattern and a narrow seven inch burgundy heel, hangs precariously from his foot and seconds later it crashes to the floor whilst the younger man holds his lover and buries his face into the warm velvety skin between his neck and his collarbone. He inhales deeply that familiar yet conflicting scent of his sweat mingling with that of his shampoo; that scent that is uniquely him.

Robbie's leg twitches as he kicks off his remaining shoe, and neither speaks as they lie together and hold one another in the fast fading light. Stuart's arms are draped in a clumsy fashion over the older man's toned chest and he watches, mesmerized, as it rises and falls with each long steadying breath.

"What did you think?" the blonde asks curiously after a rather long silence between them. He shifts his head in order to look up at his partner whose eyes are slowly tracing imaginary lines on the ceiling.

A strong arm slides around him and holds him tighter against his side. "They're perfect." He looks down at the younger man and flashes him a wide, genuine smile. "Really, I love them."

"Well, in that case, you're going to love your anniversary present."