Box Shaped Heart – Ch. 9
By Laura S. Fox
Copyright © 2018 Laura S. Fox
All Rights Reserved
Intended for Mature Audiences Only
This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, strong language and it is not meant for readers who are less than 18 years of age.
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Chapter Nine – Nut, Nuts, Nutter
"Your husband called a few times," Mark chimed in, holding the door for him, and seeing him to his desk like he was crippled.
Carter threw his secretary a confused look.
"You dropped your phone here, before heading to your meeting with Yolanda. I didn't answer. But it's all for the best that you didn't have your phone with you," Mark added in a low whisper. "I heard she's a beast if something or someone interrupts her meetings."
"Really?" Carter asked in a dry flat tone.
Mark was even newer than him here, and he already knew the pet peeves of the upper management. His fresh-faced secretary was clearly a pro.
"How old did you say you were, Mark?" he asked, as he took the phone and stared at the missed calls for a couple of seconds.
Aron must have known he was not to be interrupted during his meetings with the higher-ups, even if, by higher-ups, he only meant Yolanda. Aron must have known everything about his husband. That meant that it was some emergency.
His tongue turned to sandpaper in his mouth. Could it be that Alex woke up, and found himself in Carter's body? His hands trembled slightly. How was he going to explain to Aron he had played the role of a fake husband all this time? Damn, the situation was becoming more and more complicated. Could they send both him and Alex to the loony bin, provided that they seemed to share the same psychosis? Wasn't that enough proof that they weren't actually crazy?
And how was Aron going to feel about him, when all this was going to blow up? Just as things seemed to be on the mend somehow.
He stared at Mark, shaking his head, like a bunch of bees were trying to find their queen in between his ears.
"Have you heard my answer? I'm 22. But I can assure you I am a professional."
"Yes, yes, of course," Carter just nodded quickly. "Sorry, I am a bit ..." he ran one index finger in a circle, pointing at his temple.
Great, now he was admitting to his secretary he was insane. He crooked his index finger, trying to do something with it, something that didn't necessarily point out at the mess in his head. Eventually, he just let his hand down and placed it in his pocket.
"Don't worry, boss," Mark said brightly.
"Please, don't call me that, it makes me feel old and crappy. Call me Ca ... Alex," he caught himself right in time. "Alex will do. It's my name," he gestured towards his chest like he was Tarzan trying to tell Jane his name. Yeah, he was Tarzan all right, minus the testosterone and the cave man charm.
If Mark was surprised by his boss's behavior, he didn't show it. He was, indeed, a pro.
"Ah, I cannot do that, boss," he said brightly. "You have a reputation to uphold. What if anyone overhears me calling you by your first name?"
"What kind of reputation is that?" Carter looked, puzzled, at his secretary.
Mark took almost a military stance, placing his hands behind his back, and looking somewhere above Carter's head. For a second, he had the distinct sensation that the guy was going to sing the national anthem.
"Alex Ruskin is known for his incredible looks, of course, but apparently, he has the reputation of a slave driver and a taskmaster. No personal assistant seems to be capable of surviving his verbal whip for more than a few months. A slip of the tongue made the last secretary of the famous and infamous Alex Ruskin shamefully exit Beauty X, through the back door. Allegedly, the unfortunate PA failed to address the local fashion icon properly, when in polite company."
Carter stared at Mark, curious to see if the guy was still breathing after saying all that in one go. Miraculously, he was.
"Who said that?" he pointed his phone at Mark.
"New Entertainment, of course," Mark answered promptly.
"That is ..."
Not true, he wanted to add, but it might have been.
"... a misunderstanding," he chose instead, just for the sake of being diplomatic.
"Sorry, boss, even if that's true, I don't want to seek employment starting tomorrow. If I make it under you, then I can make it anywhere. So you're boss to me for now."
"Wow, bossy," Carter shook his head. "Well, you seem to have everything figured out. Don't let me stand in your way. What's next for me on the do-to list for today?"
Mark was about to reply to that, when Carter's phone went off.
"Sorry, I have to take it, it's Aron," he said quickly.
Mark saluted, and with a smack of his heels and a one eighty, he went out the door, leaving Carter alone.
He took a deep breath. There was no point to postpone this.
"Hi," he answered in a meek voice.
"Hi," Aron's voice called from the other end.
Strangely enough, Aron seemed just as chastised as Carter was.
"I called to tell you that I'm sorry," Aron added quickly, after a couple of seconds of awkward silence.
"Uhm? What for?" Carter asked.
This could not be about Alex waking up in Carter's body. He felt strangely relieved.
"For last night. For leaving you sleep on the sofa. For this morning. I shouldn't have ..."
"Eh, let bygones be bygones," Carter sat at his desk.
"No, I must ask for your forgiveness. I would like to take you out tonight. Someplace nice. I really need to make it up to you."
"Nah, I'm not really in the mood for that. And I was an ass, too. I was actually planning to blow you to make it up to you."
The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he was the biggest idiot in the whole universe. That was why it was better if he remained silent most of the time, and not let whatever he was thinking fly out like that.
"Wow," Aron replied, but his tone was playful now. "Then I have something to really look forward to, for tonight."
"But we made up," Carter said quickly. "You said you're sorry."
Even to his ears, he sounded unconvincing.
"No way, you're not talking your way out of this," Aron said, his voice dropping lower. "And really, you're not upset?"
"No, I'm not," he sighed. "But I must warn you. I am a bit rusty. Sorry if I'll gag."
Aron burst into laughter on the other end.
"You've only been in the hospital for a few days. How rusty could you have gotten?"
Especially with all the practice around the block, Carter thought, as he began to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was worse than a nutty cartoon duck navigating a minefield. He just kept blowing stuff up. Blowing ... He shook his head.
"Don't worry, babe. I'm sure it's like riding a bicycle. It will all come back to you once you get back in the saddle. Speaking of which," Aron's voice dropped another note or two. "How long do you plan to keep me waiting until I can have your beautiful ass?"
"I had some blood tests done," Carter answered. "What if I got some bug while in the hospital? What if I give it to you, too?" he continued, almost congratulating himself for this new idea that had just come to him.
"We kissed and ... Okay, but when did you turn into a hypochondriac? I know that no one is supposed to ruffle your feathers, but you didn't use to have this obsession with illness."
"Hey, it's not like I face a situation like that every day. I need to make sure I'm healthy."
"All right," Aron admitted. "I can wait to fuck your sweet ass. Especially since you plan on giving me blowjobs as compensation," he added with a small chuckle that seemed to work wonders on Carter's ear, brain, spine, and the entire nervous system.
Aron's words were setting him on fire. Figuratively. And they also made it hard for him to concentrate. What were they talking about? Ah, blowjob. Blowjobs. Hmm, blowjobs?
"Blowjob," Carter said quickly. "Without the s, like in one versus ... more than one. I can only agree to one."
"Don't be so picky about everything. I know how much you like to blow me," Aron spoke, his voice husky and low.
Carter winced as a strange jolt went up his spine, making the hair on his head stand on its ends. Funny, it felt like he was aroused. Just to check, he pressed one hand over his crotch. Was that thing working overtime? He threw an incredulous look at the bulge in his skinny jeans.
"Ah, damn," he whispered.
Great. Now his voice sounded low and sexy, too.
"Are you alone?" Aron questioned him.
"In the office? Right now? Yeah," Carter murmured.
Was that AC still working or what? The stylish room thermometer on his desk showed that the temperature was perfect. Why on earth he felt so hot, all of a sudden?
"Me too. I'm going to lock the door, just in case."
Why was Aron locking the door to his office?
"Don't you have work to do?" he whispered, like he was afraid someone might hear him.
The feeling that whatever he was doing right now was somewhat of an illicit nature was starting to bother him.
"Do the same," Aron whispered, and Carter moved, like he was in a trance.
"I did. Happy now?" he tried to sound casual, but he kind of suspected what Aron wanted.
Not the entire animal farm singing could save him at this point. He was trapped. But it was not like he was going to run away. Maybe that was needed. Maybe Aron had to discover his husband was not his husband, by accident or otherwise. And then he was just going to ask Carter what the hell he was doing in Alex's body.
"Tell me what you are planning for tonight," Aron cooed in his ear.
The door was locked, but Carter could still feel himself exposed. He slid under his desk and coiled into a corner, holding the phone glued to his ear.
"Uhm, I'm going to blow you," he said with half the conviction needed, and double than what he felt.
"Could you please go into details?" Aron continued to speak in the same husky tone.
Carter could swear he was hearing rustling of clothes. And the way Aron's drawl was tickling his ear, like he was right there, next to him, wasn't of any help. He needed to concentrate. He bit his lips, trying to reign in the shudder of excitement coursing through his body.
"Are you, ahem, touching yourself?" he asked.
"Would it bother you if I was?" Aron chuckled.
Aron was kinky. His best friend was a kinky bastard and wanted to rub one off at the office.
"Are you sure no one can see you?" he asked worriedly.
"I have a small break until the next meeting. I asked not to be bothered. I expected to spend at least half an hour apologizing to you. We could put this time to good use."
"Fine," Carter admitted, but his throat was dry and speaking normally was a challenge.
"I can start first," Aron offered, his voice all silk wrapping around each word like a stripper around a dancing pole.
"Will you blow me, too?" Carter remembered the source of inspiration he had used to get hard the night before.
It was obvious that all rational thinking, along with his blood, was drained from his brain and now used only by his cock. The problem was that he couldn't entirely blame everything on Alex's body at this point. He could not bear to be that much of a hypocrite.
"I'd lick you head to toes, baby," Aron drawled. "I'll eat your ass good, even though you still don't let me fuck you. And I'll make you scream until you won't be able to use your voice."
Damn, Carter cursed internally, feeling the front of his jeans turning into a torturing device over his strained cock. How could he have been so oblivious all this years? Aron was a fucking sex bomb. Not that he ... Not that, whatever ... He straightened up to give his cock a bit of a breather, and this time he cursed loudly as his head connected with the desk.
"What's happening?" Aron asked, obviously worried.
"I hit my head," Carter replied while rubbing the crown of his head.
"How?" Aron's voice was now intrigued.
"I hit the desk," Carter explained. "With my head."
"How could that happen?" Aron questioned.
"I'm under the desk," Carter offered the prompt reply.
"Why?" Aron was now confused.
"So that no one can see me."
"That building is only concrete and metal, Alex."
"And glass. Have you seen the size of those windows?"
"Yes, and they're tinted. Plus, do you think someone will stare at you while flying around the fifth floor?"
Aron could afford to laugh at crazy imaginary things. Carter had no such luxury. He was practically living in another man's skin.
"Who knows?" he said, convinced that sounding like a lunatic was his only way out of that situation.
"Well, whatever floats your boat, baby," Aron said in a soothing voice.
Wow, this guy really needed to jerk off, Carter mused. All right, it was good practice, after all. The more he got Aron off, the less trouble was going to be for him. Aron was not going to pay attention to the little things that were making his husband not his husband at all. Why was he switching so much back and forth between wanting and not wanting Aron to find out? No, Aron should not find out, he decided. Plus, he wasn't sure he could control that thing in his pants. If he wasn't going to give in this time, maybe it was going to turn into a monster and devour him in his sleep.
Great. Now he had to act like the gay hotline. What was he supposed to say?
"I like your cock," he said bluntly.
That was so damn lame, compared to Aron's little speech from earlier.
There was a short silence at the other end. Hmm, he was dumb as a brick when it came to seduction. The truth was chicks who digged him always came to him. He was not that much of a seducer. A girl had once said to him that it was a good thing he was so handsome, or he wouldn't have gotten any, with his non-combat attitude. He had no idea what that girlfriend meant by that. He wasn't particularly handsome if he remembered correctly. Not not-handsome, either. Just ...
Back on track, Carter, we have a situation here.
Yes, he did have a situation on his hands, and the said situation had a difficulty rating multiplied by one thousand, because he had to make a guy bust a nut.
"Hmm, what do you like about it?" Aron asked.
Well, it wasn't like he had to demonstrate the Dijkstra algorithm. Actually, that seemed easy compared to this, in retrospect. He drew one deep breath and pushed his own erection down. He needed a cool head for this, not to think with, well, his other head. He pictured Aron's cock in his mind. He licked his lips unconsciously. Or maybe it was better if ...
"It's a nice cock," he spoke, his voice sounding too loud to his ears, although he was practically whispering.
"Come on, baby, give me more," Aron encouraged him.
He rested his back against a wooden wall.
"I like the way it grows so big in my hand when I touch it."
It was the truth. That had been pretty rewarding, that day when he had given Aron a handjob. From this point forward, he needed to use his imagination. What could a gay guy like to hear when having phone sex?
"I'll start by licking the head. You're leaking so much precum, I can't believe it," he began playing the scenario in his head. "It's salty, but it's like I can't ... have enough. So I just ... swirl my tongue over it and then I push it in my mouth. Damn, Aron, you're big," his voice came out strangled, loaded with meaning.
His own breathing was hitching in his chest. He could feel his cheeks burning, and now the hand that was supposed to keep his dick in check was moving up and down, giving him pleasant jolts with each passing.
"Your cock is so tasty, I just want to take it so deep," he uttered with difficulty, not because he was trying to lie, which he wasn't, but because it was difficult to control himself. He could feel his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans.
There was no way he could do this while being restrained like that under the desk. Like a drowning man, he grabbed one arm of the chair to save himself. He was quick to open his fly, and, knelt in front of the office chair, he grabbed his erection. Aron's deep breathing into his ear was making his own fall in sync.
"Damn, Aron, I want so much ... To feel you deep. I want you to fuck my face, to use me ..."
Aron's breathing was starting to become more erratic with each word. It was quite obvious that Carter's little scenario was making both of them hot beyond believe.
"Are you jerking off, too?" Aron asked.
"Yeah ... I can't believe I'm so horny right now," Carter admitted, and his whispers sounded pained.
"Then ... say what you said, but you doing it to me," Aron asked, a tad hesitant.
"What?" he asked, confused.
Probably too much of his blood was in his dick right now, and there was none left for the head that was supposed to do the thinking.
"Tell me how you would like to fuck my face," Aron's voice became urgent. "Just for my sake, baby, please."
Aron on the receiving end of dominant play? Carter could swear there was a surge of something like a shot of adrenaline right under his balls, at the root of his penis.
"I'll keep you down and straddle you," Carter finally allowed his imagination to run away with him. "I'll push my dick into your mouth, making you gag."
Was this too much? But at this point he could not help it. His own dick was doing the thinking, and hence the talking. And it was swelling and swelling in his hand, while his hand was just moving more and more frantically.
"I'll just force my way in, because I want to give it to you hard. I want you to rub your dick and moan around mine. I want to use you ... use your throat until I blow my load, and then wipe my dick on your face. I want to see my cum on your lips ... Fuck, Aron, is this what you want me to say?" he pleaded.
"Yes, baby, yes," Aron encouraged him.
He was getting all worked up with that image. Who would have thought Aron, so big and strong, liked to be dominated? He had no time to analyze things. His hand was moving so fast on his cock that it could probably be a practical demonstration on how to make fire with nothing but a dick at hand. What could a guy who loved this kind of play want more? He just went with the flow.
"And then I'll take your cock and rub it, and I'll squeeze your balls hard ... and then I'll watch you come ... for me," he whispered and began coming all over the leather chair, as his thoughts became an incoherent string of flashing images.
Aron's moans on the other hand, deep and masculine, made no more sense at that point, either. Carter was breathing hard, watching in disbelief the load he had blown. Through a daze, he listened to Aron coming, too.
For a couple of minutes, they just breathed and listened to each other. And the strangeness and intimacy of the situation were making Carter feel like floating in a dream.
Aron was the first to speak.
"That was ... incredible, baby," he said. "I'm sorry if I pushed you."
"No sweat," Carter mumbled.
"I have no idea what came over me," Aron said in an apologetic tone.
"Stop speaking," Carter warned.
He had no idea why Aron wanted to apologize, but his head was hurting already. He was the one who needed to think what the fuck meant that he had just had phone gay sex with his best friend and blown one of the hugest loads in his life.
Aron chuckled softly.
"Thanks, baby. I can barely wait to see you tonight."
"Wait," Carter spoke, but Aron had already hung up.
How on earth was he going to clean that? Really, he was at that point when he needed to google everything. Maybe the worst part, however, was that he needed to endure Mark's strange looks when he was going to send him after the cleaning supplies.
Now that had escalated quickly.
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