Thanks for all the great mail and support -- I'm really glad some of you like it! Also for great constructive criticism... Someday, perchance, my writing shall make sense.
All of my writing can be found on my website, www.noelblue.com
I stepped back from Tom when I saw his eyes had suddenly widened in a way that spoke of the distinct possibility of getting hit. And, honestly, I'm not sure I could blame him. It was a very stupid thing to do on so many different levels.
My mouth opened in order to issue an apology, but nothing seemed quite right to say.
There was also the astoundingly selfish little voice that said "Oh, Shit, there goes my career" that needed to be ignored. Laughing what I had done off as a joke was most certainly not an option, as nothing about the atmosphere or how it had happened fit a convincing comedic defense.
I cleared my throat and tried again, not able to meet his eyes. "Tom, look... That was a really idiotic thing for me to-"
His arms came at me in a flash and grabbed my shoulders, and as I hadn't been looking straight at him by the time I had figured out what was happening there was no way I could gain any control over the situation. I gripped a handful of his shirt futilely before he had me on the couch and pinned me down. To this day I'm pretty damn sure his initial intent was to beat the crap out of me.
"Tom," I croaked in a matter that could only have come across as pitiful. But I was also shifting my leg slightly upward to get him in the crotch with a swift knee movement if that became my only course of action. He was a hell of a lot sturdier then I was, and being shirtless added to my rising panic and sense of complete vulnerability. I was trying to think of ways to diffuse him verbally but no ideas were forming fast enough to stop me from entering a world of pain.
"Fuck," Tom snarled, and his fair skin was almost as red as his hair, eyes wild.
Despite this logically being not an erotic situation at all, just frightening, I was stiffening beneath him at a point it was completely impossible for him not to notice. Bloody body...
"TOM." I said again, desperately, but keeping my voice steady, "Don't do this."
"Fuck." He spat out again.
And then he kissed me.
It was by far the most violent kiss I'd ever been on the receiving end of, and I'd been with some pretty domineering men before. Maybe that was it -- there was nothing consciously planned about the roughness that Tom put into his kiss, no art to it.
His wide chest was directly on top of mine with most of its' weight bearing down to the point where I could barely catch air, and as his arms were circling me like a vice I felt truly trapped.
All this happened so fast that every thought and observation only gained sense on introspection. At the time I was lost, stunned and instantly, embarrassingly rock hard, largely due to the fact I could feel his own cock stabbing me in the thigh. And I was kissing him back as well as I was able, my mouth allowing him to invade completely and straining into the bruising onslaught.
"Can't... breathe..." it was finally necessary for me to choke out, as I was beginning to get a little light-headed.
Tom jerked back, eyes huge and lips as red and swollen as mine must have been. But instead of rising completely as I expected he just lifted himself as several complex emotions flashed across his face.
"Oh, Fuck, Will." He didn't seem able to say anything more then that, like a broken record. The look on his face held a certain despair that was almost resigned, and I opened my mouth to suggest he get off me so we could work this out. But his eyes flickered down my body and his expression changed before he had my lips again.
He was a master for catching me off guard, as this kiss was so very different from the first. His arm was braced against the couch so only some of his weight was directly on me, and the other hand had slid under my neck after he had started to kiss me to lift my head up to him a bit.
There was nothing tender about him now either, but it was a more controlled lust and sexy as hell.
All little remaining brainpower left in me fled out the window and my hands flew around his shoulders, clutching into his shirt as if for dear life. My tongue teased and flirted with his demanding one, and I shifted myself upwards to rub my erection into his.
Tom's hand dragged down my chest, almost clawing at it, and when he brushed a nipple I bucked into him with enough force that we went rolling off the couch onto the carpeted floor with an erotic `thud'.
This was the sort of turn of events that usually left me laughing my ass off; really, it highlighted the wonderful ridiculousness of sex. But whatever was happening with Tom was at that moment deadly serious, a battle for something unspoken as much as it was lust.
But he wasn't complaining about the fact that I was on top of him, my legs wrapped around his. For the first time but certainly not the last he grabbed the back of my head roughly and pulled me down back into that brutally sexy kiss of his. The glance of his face before we meshed again was focused and almost frightening in its intensity.
And I felt so powerful knowing I could make his usually easy-going expression change so completely, I felt painfully hard. I pulled away to claw at his shirt, practically ripping it open (perhaps not practically, he did get his revenge later for that one) and running my hands down his chest. He had a light down of soft red hair that trailed to a place I was very much hoping to go, and I gave a few strands a rough yank as I knotted my fingers and ran my palms over his nipples.
He buried his face into my pecs with a moan and started to bite me, drawing his hands roughly down my back until they were on my ass, squeezing so hard I squirmed a bit. But not in complaint.
We were grinding our erections against each other throughout all of this, and somewhere through the haze of desire I could tell I was making a low growling noise in what was a desperate need to release. Judging by the look on Tom's face when he brought it up from my chest, before I let my own face fall to nip his bicep while my hands explored his upper body ravenously, the same was true for him.
"Oh, god, damn..." He hissed and clenched at my ass again, bucking into me so hard I was concerned I was going to fall off. "Urrrrrggggggggggh.." He moaned, and writhed under me a few more times. I watched his face intently, loving the expressions of pleasure that contorted them completely.
He was still mostly hard, and I kept grinding into him, unable to stop myself. A split second later I also came with a satisfied groan, relieved for my own selfish sake that he hadn't yet released his death grip on me. That death grip was far sexier then any handcuffs or leathers straps.
"Fuck." He said again, his voice shaking, and I had to wonder if this swearing tendency was either something common to Tom outside of work, something saved for sex, or because he had just savagely humped another guy. But, oh, dirty words sounded fucking amazing coming out of his handsome, clean-cut mouth.
Of course it had to end, and his hands almost spasmed off my body, his eyes looking anywhere but at me.
"Tom, look..." It was stupid for me to have said anything at all, because the sound of my voice seemed to really freak him out. He pushed away from me quickly and stood up clumsily, bracing himself against the couch as if his legs were less then steady. There was a significant stain at the crotch of his pants, and I winced in embarrassment for both of us, knowing he wasn't the only one.
"I'm sorry, Will." He said without looking at me as he closed his shirt with a considerable effort, as his hands weren't steady. I stood up, causing him to step away from me. "Oh, shit, so sorry..."
For what? I thought somewhat sadly, and sat down on the couch to silently watch him pull himself together. This, I suspected, was going to be the last time I would see Irish, and it made me angry at myself for not stopping where we had gone. But what could I say?
"Tomorrow..." Tom almost croaked, and my head snapped up. "Tomorrow... please don't say anything."
There was going to be a tomorrow?
"Sure?" I said, dumbfounded.
"This didn't happen, I -- I don't do this." Something about the way he sounded pretty unsure about that made me suspect that perhaps he did do this, in the sense I wasn't the first breakdown of his heterosexuality. "I DON'T." The heat in his voice sounded like it was directed at my unspoken thoughts, but as he was looking away, at my shiny mahogany desk. "I, I don't know how it could have happened. This was my fault, I know, all you did was kiss me. But, FUCK. Why the fuck did you kiss me?"
Inwardly I sighed. Obviously a friendship had been sacrificed on the alter of lust this evening, and on a work day-to-day this was probably going to be hell, but he wasn't planning on quitting. For the moment. But there was no denying how happy I was he wasn't leaving me. For professional reasons, of course. Only professional.
I was impressed he was admitting I hadn't worked alone. That was something between all the stunned swearing.
So I'd buy the random-inexplicable-flaring of lust party line (really, it had certain ego-boosting aspects, the whole I-turned-a-straight-boy-gay-for-a-bit story), and we'd forge ahead from here.
And without me even seeing his penis, too. Damn it. I smacked down this bemused line of thought -- probably a form of emotional-fallout - and looked straight at Tom to utter comforting nonsense.
"We'll act like this didn't happen." I swore. While I spoke I ignored the increasingly cold wet stain on my pants, or the fact I was pretty sure Tom had given me at least a couple of impressive hickies. Also, my ass cheeks hurt from the force of his very strong hands. "I'm sorry that it did." Liar Liar Pants on...
"Good." He said. Looking at him with his red hair everywhere, his face bright red and his lips swollen I wondered how easy this was going to be, ignoring what had just gone down. Because, Hell, he was cute. Hell, that had been fun.
"I, I..." With one last look that made me feel like I had kicked a puppy he grabbed his coat and fled.
I didn't stand up to leave for almost half an hour, lost in my own stunned thoughts on that couch.
The next day was uncomfortable. Exceedingly. I had barely slept the night before, both relieving the enjoyable part and afraid of the morning's repercussions. Oh, shit, I was stupid to come on to him, which was essentially what I had done by kissing him on the cheek. By flirting with him in small, careful ways for weeks. Obviously it had not fallen on deaf eyes or eyes, and now a lucrative working relationship would be something far more strained. Honestly, although he said he would come in, I had doubts as to how long he would last working with a man he had hooked up with.
Pulling myself together the best I could with a steady mantra of "it didn't happen, pretend it wasn't Tom, it didn't happen, pretend it wasn't Tom", I was a complete airhead throughout the day.
Allie half-jokingly smacked me across the head with a report at one point. "Mr. Merrin, your blackberry is UPSIDE DOWN." She looked pointedly at the gadget against which I was distractedly tapping my stylus.
"Oh, is it? Huh. Didn't notice." I gave her a distracted smile and continued to tap. She rolled her eyes and left.
Tom was in, and I saw him throughout the day from my window when he was helping people with their computers, but I did my best to pretend he wasn't there the best I could aside from a curt nod of my head and a neutral smile. His return smile was decidedly weak and fleeting.
I allowed this to continue for two days until my technical needs overcame any sense of discomfort or embarrassment. (Also, I had already reached my embarassment threshold when I went out to buy makeup to cover up my hickies and got openly laughed at by the 90-year-old pharmacy clerk when I asked her what shade of concealer she thought woul best match my skintone) If Tom was going to continue working here, I told myself, he needs to deal with this and do his job.
And doing his job meant dealing with me, and dealing with me regularly.
After a short and cold email exchange confirming the fact I was coming I slipped behind the security door, down the stairs, and knocked lightly on the door.
"Come in." His voice came through the door, short and professional. I entered like I was coming into an inner-sanctum, a holy place that I wasn't necessarily welcome in. Tom was staring with great intensity at his computer screen, and didn't look up as I came around his desk to stand over him.
"Hey." I asked brightly.
"Make any headway with that bug we're having with the passwords?"
"I think I've got it, but I know some of the other bugs have priority." His voice was like ice, eyes still glued to his screen. "Leonard also managed to launch an interesting virus into our system with all his porn, so I've been dealing with that today. Do you want to go over the security protocol before we launch into login issues?"
"Sounds great." Inwardly sighing at the new order, I pulled up my chair to his desk so I was slightly behind him, but not too close. He smelled amazing, but I suppose it would be imprudent to ask him what cologne he uses. Maybe I was especially sensitive now because I'd smelled it so clearly that night, mingled with his sweat...
It was a good thing it was so dark in this room, or he might be able to see me blush.
Tom shifted a little and tapped the screen, turning his head enough to make it clear he was not being rude while he was addressing me, but also not looking at me in any way.
"So I know you wanted this screen changes so it wasn't so-" I let his voice wash over me, paying attention as best I could and making sure not to stare at his neck. Or his hands. Or his shoulders... He needed a haircut something fierce and I wanted to give the thick redness of it a good tug.
He had apologized for what had happened two nights before, and I had appreciated that. A small peck was impudent, but it wasn't the same as being thrown down and (albeit I didn't exactly fight it tooth and nail) molested.
The reason we continued past that evening, however, was thoroughly and completely my fault. Basically, I did another stupid thing.
"I'm having a lot of trouble working with this templete, however, as the original programmers-"
Sitting there, listening to his smooth, slightly boyish voice, smelling his smell -- I was smelling sweat again beneath the cologne and could see a slight sheen of moisture on him, I wondered if it was my fault -- I was getting agitated. His neck was suddenly fascinating to me, the smooth skin with a bit of freckle, the masculine lines and its perfect thickness.
I myself wasn't aware that my chin was almost resting on his shoulder, close enough for him to feel my breath, until his explanation of options concerning the login screen suddenly lost its surety. Had his voice gotten huskier?
"...The menu items can be, be, Oh, God, no, Will..." He groaned as my lips hit the back of his neck, gently kissing upwards into his hairline.
Where my newfound confidence that there was no way he was going to punch me came from I don't know, but I wasn't half as concerned as a less lust-blind man would be. My hands slowly crept over his shoulders, my fingers kneading firmly but gently into his muscles.
Tom's whole body tensed but he didn't move, his breathing heavy as I buried my face in his hair, letting the sensation wash over me as I kissed his scalp. Rock hard, it was taking all of my self control to not spin him around and sit firmly on his lap.
But I didn't want him running away until I was finished touching him, and that could take a very long time. Oh, I still can't believe I was playing Russian roulette with my very useful IT guy for the sake of my hormones. It was clear he wanted to stick with his self-perpetuated vision of himself as heterosexual, and who was I to try to destroy that?
A very horny, lonely gay man who was incredibly attracted to him, that's who. Men much smarter than I had undone themselves because of sex, and at that moment I understood quite clearly how and why.
"Will, you said," He gulped audibly as I kissed as deeply down his button up shirt from the collar as I could, my fingers gently tracing down his back over his shirt. "You said this wasn't going to happen again." His chair had turned a bit in my direction, giving me better access to his face.
"Tom..." I said his name softly into his ear and he seemed to involuntarily lean into my lips. "Do you really want me to stop?"
"Fuck..." He groaned as I nipped gently at his earlobe and then lightly ran my tongue up the side of his face. "FUCK."
His body shuddered, relaxed in a way as if defeated, and he reached out an arm that went around my shoulders. Pulling himself so his chair twisted my way his lips met mine and his hands went straight for my torso, running down with a slight tremble.
Looking at his face, it was screwed up and reflected the fact he was very upset so clearly I had to stop, a bit aghast at what I had started.
"Why wouldn't you leave me alone?!" He asked me angrily, his hands still my chest. They bunched into fists on my shirt.
I was silent, having nothing to say that wasn't glaringly obvious, but I decided to say it anyways, looking straight into his eyes. "I'm very attracted to you."
"Fuck." He said, and closed his eyes. The fists unlocked, but the hands stayed where they were.
"And this is a really bad idea, and I'm a very bad boss that you could sue in a heartbeat." I admitted.
The blue eyes flew open. "Goddamn it, I'd never -- "
"Tom." My voice was soft again, and I was so hard it was painful; if this encounter was over I needed to get to a bathroom, and quickly, before I started to scream. "Do you want me to stop?" His hands were still on my chest, and I'd put mine on his knees, carefully but blatantly moving them up an inch so he got the point.
Right now, to me, there was no halfway.
Tom's face turned that scarlet shade of red I had seen two nights before, and his lips pursed. I closed my eyes with a sigh and began to withdraw my hands, until his slammed down on them. "Fuck." He said quietly, as if to himself. Boy needs a new word, I thought. "Don't you dare."
That was definitely directed at me, and I couldn't clamp down completely on a small smile. My hands moved upwards with his on top, feeling his strong, muscled thighs, until I hit the wonderful hardness of his cock.
"You are a very, very bad boss." Tom groaned as I ran my palm up his length, wanting so much to feel his skin, to see his naked ass. "So... bad..."
"Oh, god, you're so good." He growled at me not much later as I blew him for the first time and I thought, bemusedly, that Irish needed to make a decision on what he thought of me.
But by the time I was arching against his desk, him returning certain favors as his hand jacked me with surprising skill and his tongue explored my belly button, that we should both shut up and let our bodies have all the necessary conversations.
Sadly, the brain doesn't usually stay silent for long.
"fucking hell, Will." He said, as we both lay there, sweaty, half-naked, and spent. The bathroom on the currently empty 3rd floor was going to be a lifesaver in cleaning up and avoiding anyone seeing us; the stairwell door was right outside the IT security door.
He ran a hand through his red hair, wet from sweat. "We sorta failed at the whole not doing it again thing, didn't we?" His voice was so soft, it was hard to hear among the many noises in the room.
"Yeah." I said, equally quietly. "We really did."
But did I have any regrets? Yes, because he was trying to be straight, was engaged, and I knew this was all sorts of bad both personally and professionally. All I wanted to do at that moment was hug him, nuzzle him, invite him out for dinner over the weekend with a blatant suggestion that we try something in a bed this time. This continued in my fuzzy brain for a while, floating around happily in a fantastic cloud of non-reality.
We were both leaning against his desk, as I had managed to come all over his chair - and his face, But he seemed less upset about then I would have thought he'd be.
There was no way he was completely new at this.
I reached out and touched his arm gently. "Tom-" Maybe we should talk about this, I was about to say, but he stepped away; not angrily but almost apologetically, and I pulled my hand back and shut up. My cloud burst.
A fuck buddy is as a fuck buddy does.
Tom started to slowly, as if in a daze, do up his pants and shirt. God, he was so damn sexy. Touching him sober, with all my facilities and no vaneer of shock or fear made the contours of his body seem more solid than last time. Whether he had done it before with a guy or not he was a natural, and he surprised me again with his reaction to the fact that, once again, we couldn't stop ourselves. There was no rage or running away, just that strange defeatism.
I looked around the cave-like room, and noticed the things Tom had done in order to make it more welcoming, more comfortable. There was a simpsons picture on the wall, a stuffed Duff beer toy on one of his monitors, and pictures of his attractive family and his very pretty and very blond fiancee. (Perhaps I shouldn't stare at that one too long, I could feel my jaw start to clench as I studied her sparkling brown eyes and pert little nose.)
Summoning up the 'Boss'(who had absolutely no resemblence to Bruce Springsteen) in me from somewhere that had bene thoroughly crushed sometime around when he grabbed my hands on his thighs, I straightened and cleared my throat.
I started this round, perhaps I should finish it.
"Look." He turned and looked at me with startled eyes at the tone o fmy voice, which cut through the mood like a knife. "Let me be honest with you, Tom." I would really like to be giving you a back rub as I say this. "I honestly can't promise you this won't happen again unless you can promise me you won't respond to me."
He stopped, silent, his shirt half buttoned. I resisted the urge to grab him, pulling his crotch to mine, clutching at his pecs and running my hands down his ass. My god I was getting hard again. Obviously what I was thinking was somehow broadcast in my stare, because he looked away, blushing.
Wait, was he trembling?
"I can't do that." He said, voice still sotto, and now hoarse. "I can't promise anything." His body started to shake even more, and he turned away, towards the wall, his arms tight around his chest.
Without thinking, without stopping I quickly moved forward and wrapped my arms around his waist and below his arms. Feeling his strong abs, his solid flesh, I gently buried my nose in his neck. His body was at first stiff as a board, so tense it was like hugging a stone, but I didn't let go.
"It's alright." I said gently. "It's alright. I'm not judging you. It's alright, Tom." His body relaxed, and I could feel his heat, and his heart as he leaned back into me slightly. His neck arched into my lips, and he let out a shaky sigh.
"What the hell am I doing?" It was definitely a rheotorical question he was asking, as he didn't move.
Here I could stay forever, I thought, somewhat sadly, relaxing against his body. The last time I had felt like this was my first boyfriend, a 20-year-old hockey player who the 15-year-old me had thought hung the stars. He'd turned out to have been an obsessive and possessive asshole, but for a little bit there I had felt deliciously like I was out-of-control but also safe.
I never let it happen again, of course. And it wasn't looking like a good idea now... but all I wanted was to be near Tom, touching him, feeling my expanding cock press against his crack between his perfect cheeks, to the point there was no logic.
Damn brain. It was embarrassing getting turned on again, as he was still shaking a bit even as he leaned against, but there was no way I could have stopped.
Especially with the fact that, perhaps unconsciously, he was pushing back into me, letting me bury myself deeper in the crevice of his pants. His hands dropped from around his torso to reach back to grip my thighs, and my hands started to snake from round his waist downwards, but slowly and sensuously, as if not to startle him.
But something about what I was doing had the opposite effect, as he started, bucked away from me almost violently, and almost hopped around the desk. I sighed almost audibly this time.
"This really isn't going to stop as long as we're togather, isn't it?" He said, agitated.
"No." I said shortly; not mad at him, more at myself. What was I doing, playing chase the scared straight man? I looked around for my jacket, and saw it on the floor, quickly leaning down to pick it up and throwing it on. "Look, I'll see you, Tom." Will you QUIT already? The drive-by vehemence of the thought took me by surprise, but I knew it came from my frustration.
I started for the door. My hand was on the knob, a need to scream was on my mind, when I heard his voice again. I turned.
"Will." He refused to look at me, and his voice was barely audible. "Lori's having a girl's night at our house tonight... I was thinking of working late."
Oh, fuck me. I thought desperately. Wait, you probably won't, but, god.
I'm a weak man.
"Oh?" My heart was beating like a jackhammer. "I'll probably be here."
"Yeah?" He said, his voice even quieter now.
It was downhill from there.
And perhaps uphill.
To be continued...