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If Sol were to track the last few months of his life, he doesn't think he could point to exactly when and how Cornelius Hickey became such an influential part of it. But the fact is, that in really no time at all, Sol has gone from being what he would maybe have described as bi-curious after a few drinks, to willingly putting himself in a pair of long black stockings and a pair of underwear with far too much lace to be anything close to dignified, all because Cornelius told him that he wanted it.
He doesn't even know that much about Cornelius, when he thinks about it. They'd met in a pub, he'd brought Cornelius home. They hadn't even done anything that night, or for the first couple of weeks; Cornelius had slept on his sofa for a while before ever ending up in his bed. He'd disappeared after that first time, for about a month, before showing back up on Sol's doorstep like a stray tomcat. In-between, Sol knew, Cornelius was with his actual boyfriend. He gets flighty, he'd explained to Sol one night, didn't like staying at the same place for too long. So it seems he's currently drifting around between Sol, his boyfriend, and God knows where else doing God knows what.
Sol thinks far too much about Cornelius's boyfriend, considering he doesn't know the first thing about him. He comes up often enough, though. Whenever Sol is hesitant about something Cornelius asks him to do, he can always win him over with five magic words: Billy does it for me. Sol is under no delusions that Cornelius will leave Billy for him permanently, but nonetheless, he still feels like he's in competition with this faceless man.
If he wanted to, he could know more about Billy Gibson. His and Cornelius's circles were overlapping long before they met, in fact, as he and Tommy had figured out it was the same Billy that Tommy works at the cafe with. He could ask Tommy what Billy looks like, but he'd rather avoid the insecurities that would surely arise if it turns out Billy looks nothing like him.
He wonders about it now, though, as he lays on his bed, running his fingers absently over the lacy edge of the stockings stretched up to his thighs. Cornelius has left him on the bed for a few minutes like this - he knows Cornelius likely isn't actually doing anything in the next room. He's just making Sol wait because he can. All Sol can think about is Cornelius's usual bribery, when Sol had pulled a face at the idea of stockings and lingerie. Billy does it for me. What does Billy look like, like this? Is he as muscled as Sol, stockings stretching over shaped calves and thick thighs? Or is he skinny, tall, his legs elegant and willowy in black and lace? That thought makes Sol feel a little sick, but then Cornelius opens the door and stands there, leaning in the doorway.
"Good boy, Sol. Waiting for me," he murmurs. "Come here now. On your knees."
Sol gets up from the bed, feeling deeply exposed as Cornelius's eyes take in every bit of him. His top half is bare and he's covered beneath only by the lacy underwear, which really doesn't leave anything to the imagination. He moves awkwardly across the room and obediently kneels in front of Cornelius, who looks down rather approvingly at him. As humiliating as this feels, he would do it again and again if Cornelius would only look at him like that. He hopes he looks better in this position than Billy does.
He's hard, unavoidably so, his prick thick and straining at the lace of the underwear he's wearing. Cornelius lifts a foot, steadying himself on the doorframe, and presses it lightly against the bulge, smirking when Sol's eyes flutter and he pushes into the pressure.
"You like them, then?" he says. "I bought them special for you, you know."
Sol nods, looking up. "Yeah," he says, forgetting any discomfort in an instant. "I like them. Thank you."
Cornelius nods and takes his foot away. His hands go to his belt, and Sol watches with rapt attention as he unfastens it and opens his trousers. "Come here then," Cornelius says, and Sol doesn't need to be asked twice.
A few months ago, if someone had told him that a 5-foot-something scrap of a man like Cornelius Hickey would have him kneeling in his bedroom, dressed in women's underwear and eagerly sucking cock, he would've laughed. And yet this, now, seems like the most normal place in the world for him to be. Cornelius puts a hand in his hair and groans quietly as Sol bobs his head steadily, and that one sound is enough to make this all worth his while. As Sol works with his mouth, Cornelius raises his foot again and rests it against Sol's cock, his toes flexing in a way that makes Sol's whole body shudder. Between the pressure on his cock, the hand in his hair and the taste of Cornelius on his tongue, he can't hold himself together.
"Cornelius." He pulls back, his voice shaking. "I… Fuck, I don't want to make a mess of these…"
Cornelius shushes him and flexes his foot again. "I bought them special, Solomon. I want you to make a mess. Go on."
Sol swears, presses his face to Cornelius's thigh and promptly comes, feeling the wetness spreading across the front of these nice underwear. When it's done, he lifts his head and looks up, wanting - needing - Cornelius to tell him how good he was. Not yet.
"Get up now. On the bed, get those off you. You've got five minutes to recover, then I'm gonna finish inside you."
Sol nods, feeling dizzy as he stands up on shaking legs. As he always does now, he does exactly what Cornelius tells him to.