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This, is premeditated. He’s planned this for a month and a half.
But, like most of his arguably terrible ideas, this started with the internet. One post led to another, and then a video, and then a wayward comment that contained images and he was ensnared.
The lace were beautiful, the lingerie obviously expensive, but it’s the ladies- some of them tall and leggy, others boarder, curvier - but all so poised, so sensual, so confident in their own bodies. He clicks on the link, fascinated, and –
They were not ladies – but men, tucked and polished in lace and wigs, putting on femininity like an overcoat, and the realization is an explosion of light in his mind: I can do this too.
And then immediately – why would I want to, though. But that bright light of a thought is rolling over the insecurities, the doubts – of course I want to.
Still slightly confused, but with the rush of that bright something thrumming excitedly through his veins, he sends the link to the only person that he knows for sure would understand.
Junhong messages him back the next day. By this time, the idea has taken root, the light of it seeping into his center and blossomed there, and there is this strange desperation when he messages Junhong back with a proposition.
He was right, Junhong does understand. They set a date, and Himchan prepares.
Around the third hour into his research, Himchan realises that he is his own greatest enabler. If he was Daehyun, he probably would have just chosen some cute bra and panties, and then relied on some blood red lipstick to complete the look. But because he is Himchan, has impeccable taste and an unchecked need for perfection when it comes to what he wants, things escalates.
Lacy panties seems a safe choice, so he adds that to his cart first, adding a matching lace bralette after some consideration. He studies the models, and knows for a fact that what looks amazing on these slim young girls would make his legs look terribly short – which was why a pair of black pumps joined his purchases. A sheer, black lace nightgown is the most expensive thing in this little project - but this is the thing he wants Junhong to see him in first – the piece of garment he built the rest of the look around.
His purchases arrives a week later – and heart trembling, he puts everything on his newly shaved body, and analyses himself critically in the mirror.
His legs look wonderful, long and smooth, thick around the thighs and framed by the lace panties. The nightgown is even more beautiful in person, the lace feels expensive on his shoulders, the fabric so sheer it’s like a layer of night gently settling on his skin. But his waist – he’s not as young and fit as he used to be – and the bralette only serves to make him look boxy.
He goes back online, buys garter belt and lace thigh highs. He looks through what seems like hundreds of tutorials, return the garter belt and buys a classier set. He practices walking in pumps, gets his nails manicured, answers Junhong’s increasingly more excited messages with winky faces and mischievous “no spoilers”.
It takes a month and a half. It’s pre-meditated. He wants this to be absolutely perfect.
They’ve planned this, he’s even given Junhong a key card to his apartment so that he can let himself in – so that Himchan doesn’t have to come to the front door in his full get-up.
His still in the bathroom when he hears Junhong in the kitchen calling out “Hyung, I’m here!”
Suddenly, he’s nervous. This whole thing seems silly, now. He looks good. He knows he looks good, but somehow that knowledge doesn’t seem as relevant when an audience that isn’t himself is involved.
“Hyung?” Junhong calls out, much closer, no doubt noticing the light peeking under the bathroom door. It’s now or never. Himchan sneaks a glance back at his own reflection.
He kept his own short, red hair, but heat curled it into soft waves – just teasing the edge of femininity. His body doesn’t tease though. He used the garter belt to cinch his waist into the illusion of curves, lets the thigh highs squeeze the meat of his thighs slightly, lets the lace of the bralette paint their patterns against his skin. He’s not tucked- because Himchan just isn’t ready for that, so he ties up the nightgown just right to hide that, but opened just enough to show off how prettily the straps of the bralette curves over his shoulders. His eyebrows are painted, his eyelids glitter. His lashes are dark and heavy, and his lips are plumped and glistening.
This is fine. He looks amazing, and Junhong understands. This, is fine.
He opens the door – and gasps.
Because Junhong does understand – he’s dressed up too. Slacks and crisp white collars, and because he’s Junhong – what looks to be an embroidered dark denim jacket.
He’s also holding a rose, like a gentleman caller – playing on masculinity to perfectly mirror Himchan. There’s a flood in his heart. Junhong is too good for this world. Too good to him.
There’s eyeliner rubbed onto Junhong’s eyes too. His jawline is sharp, his hair is styled and his eyes are trailing fire on the midnight of Himchan’s night gown.
And the moment he straightens up under Junhong’s gaze, that moment when he extends his neck and wets his lips for the man in front of him is when Himchan really understood. All this dress up, why it’s important to him, to the other people he found online. It’s not about looking like a woman, not really – it’s about a celebration of himself. It’s being himself, as large as he can be, as perfect as he has always imagined himself to be, celebrating beauty by toeing lines. It’s as exciting as it is fulfilling. He feels powerful, he feels expensive, he feels absolutely fearless in his lace and garters.
“You look so gorgeous.” Junhong tells him earnestly.
Himchan has always had an unchecked need for perfection when it comes to things he wanted – and right at this moment, Junhong is perfect.
“You too.” Himchan tells him. “I want you to touch me.”
Junhong’s cheeks heat up adorably, but there’s no hesitation when he reaches out a hand to tip Himchan’s face up for a kiss.
“Hm,” Junhong says when the part again, “Maybe some pictures first. I brought my camera, and I ruined your lips.”
Himchan flits his gaze from the stamp of his own lipstick from Junhong’s lips to the mirror. There’s a smudge on a corner.
“I think it’s still perfect.” He tells Junhong cheekily. The click click of his pumps like a benediction as he struts out of the bathroom, leading Junhong by the hand.