by Peter Styles
Chapter 10
“Where have you been?”
Jeremiah looked up, his hand still pressing against his lips. He had driven home one-handed because he couldn’t keep his fingers away. His lips were still tingling and he had no idea when they would stop, if they would ever stop.
“Oh, Markus,” he said, looking at his boyfriend. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re extremely late!” Markus said, standing up and gesturing toward Jeremiah. “What happened to you? You were supposed to be home hours ago. And what happened to your shirt?”
What did happen to my shirt?
Jeremiah looked down, noticing for the first time that he had a huge stain on the front of his shirt. It was red, presumably salsa.
“I’m sorry, Markus. It’s just… you really wanted me to do this, you know? And I really want to be with you, so I… I did what you asked, and… well…”
Markus grabbed his shoulders, but his grip was rougher than Chris’s. Jeremiah twisted away from it automatically, surprising himself. “What are you talking about, babe?”
“I called Chris Finley and asked him out on another date. And he said yes. And I went and we had dinner and he kissed me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kiss him. Uh… but… I didn’t. He kissed me, Markus. I swear. Markus?”
Markus was shaking, presumably with anger. Jeremiah cringed slightly. In their three years, he had seen Markus angry plenty of times but he had never had that anger directed at him before. He had come to think that he was immune to it, that he was Markus’s special someone who could never make him angry.
And now he was about to be proven wrong.
Markus reached out, shoulders quivering… and he grabbed Jeremiah around his shoulders and pulled him in tight, crushing him in a rib-bending hug. His fingers ruffled through Jeremiah’s hair, stroking him down the back of his skull and all the way down his spine to his ass.
“You are a damn genius,” Markus whispered. He sounded aggressive and soothing all at once. “A damn genius. You’re so good at this. We’re going to know everything about him in no time!”
Jeremiah smiled feebly. The edges of his lips continued to tingle. “Are you sure you don’t mind that… a kiss happened? Are you sure it isn’t cheating?”
“Of course not! This is exactly what we were planning on!”
What you were planning on, you mean.
“Babe, you had an idea and you acted on it! And you went out there and nailed it!” Markus released Jeremiah and spun around in the living room, pacing and slapping his palms together in a motion reminiscent of his days as a football player, working himself up and getting pumped. “The more you do this, the better you’re going to get at it! His secrets are ours.”
“Markus!” Jeremiah exclaimed. He was smiling, incredulous and not sure if he was happy or not. It made him feel light to be the cause of his boyfriend’s happiness, but he still felt so… so uncomfortable with all of this. “Can you listen to me for just a second?”
Markus spun again, turning to look at him. “Sure, babe. What is it?”
“He already told me his secrets!” Jeremiah spread his hands. “He said he treats his employees like family and tries to make real connections with his clients that go beyond just business. He said his secret is that he cares. And that’s all he said. That was it.”
Dark clouds swept in over Markus’s face, rendering his bright expression overcast and moody once again. “He fed you a load of shit is what he did.”
“He was sincere.”
“No,” Markus grunted. He reached down and took Jeremiah’s hand, patting the back of it. The gesture was somehow condescending, and not at all how it felt when Chris had done the same; he didn’t feel reassured in the least. “He wasn’t sincere. He played you, babe. He doesn’t trust you yet, but he will. And faster than I ever expected. I love you so much for doing this for me.”
“I love you too…”
“Now, let me tell you something.” Markus leaned down over Jeremiah, staring deep into his eyes. “No one in their right mind treats business as anything but business. If I palled around with my workers, I would have gone under months ago. That Finley bastard is trying to make himself seem like he’s something he’s not because he wants to impress you, to catch you like a fish.” Markus made an exaggerated reeling motion with one hand, pretending to struggle with his imaginary fish. “But little does he know, you’re not just some regular old sardine. You’re a goddamn shark, and he’s going to be the one who gets caught!”
“I don’t think they fish for sardines with a fishing rod.”
Markus shrugged, uninterested. “You get the point. Anyway, come on.” He grabbed Jeremiah’s hand.
“Where are we going, and why?”
I don’t really want to do anything tonight.
But it seemed as though he didn’t have any choice. Markus already had him in the bedroom, tossing him on the bed while he fetched their bottle of gel lube. Jeremiah sighed and undressed, lying flat on his back and spreading his legs obediently. His member lay limp against his thigh, a sure sign that he didn’t want any part of this.
Markus came back to him and crawled on top of him, kissing his lips. The tingling returned from before, flaring back to life. All at once, Jeremiah’s tension and apprehension morphed into something uncontrollable and needy; grabbing Markus’s face in his hands, he crushed their mouths together and bucked his hips so that his swelling member rubbed against the other man’s body. He had been so hot and bothered all this time, so ready and agitated; his body hadn’t been capable of understanding why there was no release.
And there was release here now as Markus’s fingers prepared him for what was coming next; the act they knew so well. Jeremiah sank into the sensations, shutting his eyes so as to better enjoy them. Friction was friction, wasn’t it? Attraction was all the same. He loved Markus, and Markus loved him. It didn’t matter if Chris got him riled up, because that was what Markus wanted.
And as far as he was concerned, Markus could have anything he wanted. And he would.
His resolve strengthened, Jeremiah fully gave himself to the other man. And if he found himself imagining someone a bit lighter atop him, with slightly paler skin, he made himself not care. It didn’t matter if hazel eyes and a gentle touch made him burn, as long as he returned to where he knew he belonged.
Chapter 11
The scratching of pens on paper, overlaid with a soft, sporadic typing as college students took down notes. Up front, the professor paced across her stage while gesturing and lecturing on the subject.
Jeremiah wrote down key words and phrases automatically as his professor’s voice went in one ear and out the other. He wasn’t even really sure what class he was in at the moment. He was completely on autopilot, with only a fraction of his mind intent on learning.
The rest of him was deep, deep in thought, churning with turmoil. He was starting to doubt all that he had thought the other night, locked in that glorious sex act with Markus. In fact, the doubt came across him almost as soon as they were done, laying in his boyfriend’s arms while the other man fell asleep immediately. Jeremiah could only lie there, still with lube on his skin, and try to force the mental image of Chris out of his mind. Of course, he was unsuccessful as hell and the more he tried not to think, the more he actually did.
It wasn’t just all physical. He knew that. He just wished it wasn’t true. He wanted to believe that everything was simple attraction, physical desire, but it just wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t just the tingles, or the warmth deep in the pit of his stomach, or the way his legs went all wobbly. It was the way his heart fluttered when he looked into Chris’s eyes, losing himself in amber and emerald striations all ringed with pale sapphire. There were even more colors, deeper golds, hazier greens and brown flecks that edged around the iris. It was how comfortable he felt around the other man, soothed by his very presence after his initial nervousness had worn away. Of course, he naturally relaxed around a new pers
on after a certain amount of time but never within days like this.
It was the way Chris looked at him; the way Chris laughed. It was the way he himself was laughing, and enjoying himself. All his tension just melted. Worst of all, he felt a tug in his heart. A tug, an admiration, a need that passed far beyond the realms of simple want.
He felt so disloyal. This wasn’t at all what was supposed to happen, and it wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing. Markus had to be right. Chris couldn’t be such a saint, could he?
He can say anything he wants, Jeremiah realized slowly. His mind jerked to a staggering halt, and the world tilted around him before righting itself. The sounds of the classroom filtered back to him, along with the professor’s droning voice. A slow grin formed on his lips, thin and wavering. I haven’t seen him actually interact with his employees. He could still be a horrible person.
Yet, would a horrible person encourage him to try new things? Perhaps, if he wanted to win him over badly enough. There were a lot of twisted people in the world.
Jeremiah sighed, resting his head in his hands and staring down at his notes. He noticed that his writing was all nonsense words, and he sighed even louder. Clothing rustled as heads turned in his direction, but otherwise he was ignored.
I just don’t know what I’m going to do. Why did Markus make me do this? Why couldn’t he just be happy with having a rival, or coming out on top naturally?
Was the fault with Markus? No! That was a terrible thing to think. Markus was his own man. Just because he didn’t go out of his way to provide the romantic touches that Chris had, it didn’t mean he was less. It didn’t mean he was more either. They were two entirely different people, each allowed to be what they were. And that was all. It wasn’t as hard as he was making it out to be. It really wasn’t.
But he couldn’t convince himself. It was hard enough so that it was nearly impossible. Nearly. No matter what, Jeremiah wanted a ring on his finger and he was going to get it whatever the cost.
How did Markus do it though? How was he so confident in himself?
Just then, Jeremiah’s phone gave a polite little beep. It was the sound notification for his email, which rarely saw any action these days. And when he checked the phone, he saw exactly why he had been sent an email: he had several missed calls, all from the same person.
Chris Finley.
That’s what he gets for trying to call me when I’m in class. He should know better.
And knowing better himself, knowing he should at least try to catch up with the lecture, Jeremiah tucked his phone against his legs and went to his email.
Jeremiah,
I imagine you’re hard at work learning about character archetypes and all that. I won’t take up too much of your time.
I apologize for how I acted. It was impulsive and invasive, and I should have waited until you were ready. I understand if you never want to see me again, but if you do, are you free tonight? There’s a movie I’ve been wanting to watch ever since I saw the trailer for it, and it’s almost time for it to leave theaters. If you would accompany me, I would love that.
Sincerely,
Chris Finley
Jeremiah sighed. Chris Finley. Did he ever get tired of being the man everyone knew by name? He deserved a chance to go out to the movies if he wanted to. And if this particular movie had almost finished its runtime, there might not be another chance after this one.
He sent back a short reply, saying that of course he would go. There was no reason to comment on the rest of the other man’s email. His reply would suffice as a way to let the other know he had been somewhat forgiven. After all, Jeremiah had enjoyed the kiss. He couldn’t be mad about that.
Almost immediately, his phone gave another beep. He was aware of someone looking in his direction, clearly curious about the sound, but he ignored them. He was an adult. He could ignore a class if that was his prerogative.
There was no introduction to this email, all formalities dropped as though Chris sent it in a hurry.
Great! I can’t wait. The show is at 7 p.m. And I was wondering if you could actually come to my office this time, instead? At about 6? I have a meeting and I want to be ready to get going as soon as it’s over.
His office?
The office full of workers that were supposedly treated as family. Jeremiah would be able to get a first-hand look at everything Chris claimed. He could put his doubts to rest, or prove them once and for all.
He said of course to that email as well. No others came, making him realize that he hadn’t asked what theater, or even what movie, but it didn’t really matter much. No doubt it would be some masculine action movie, or maybe something Marvel had put out recently. Superheroes were all the rage these days.
As soon as class was over, Jeremiah grabbed up his things and hurried out of the room. Normally the last one to leave, he was aware of others giving him odd looks. He’d earned a lot of those today.
“No running in the hall, dammit. Are you five?”
He obeyed the irate words of the passing professor for only a moment, putting on another burst of speed the moment they were out of sight of each other. He dug around in his pocket and pulled out his phone again, punching in a single number. Speed dial took over from there, and a ringing filled his head.
“Jeremiah?” Markus sounded surprised, and rightfully so. “I told you to never call me at my work.”
“I know and I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “But I’ve got Chris going on another date with me and he wants me to go to his office.”
Silence, during which he struggled to get his breath while coming up to the company car he had driven to the college.
“His office. You’re going inside? Shit.”
“Markus?”
“Jeremiah.” Markus’s voice broke. “Jeremiah, you are one hell of a guy. I can’t wait to marry you.”
And then he hung up.
Jeremiah stared at his phone, eyes wide and a smile flitting across his lips. Markus wasn’t one for being overly emotional, and never had been. That was just the way he was. It made them opposites, a more interesting contrast with one another.
I can’t wait to be married to you either. I love you.
He took the car and drove to where he knew Finley Real Estate was. He hadn’t ever been there before personally, but it was hard not to know where Markus’s rival dwelled when that was all he ever talked about sometimes. And he couldn’t help but to think of how similar the two companies looked from the outside.
They were both three floors in height, placed in an area of high traffic. The parking lots were perpetually halfway full, and the buildings themselves were edged with careful landscaping to make them seem more inviting. Yet, Chris’s building was clearly friendlier. It took Jeremiah a moment of puzzling over that impression before he realized what gave it. The Finley building was pale brick, a sort of beige and pink combination with protruding sections that bulged forth slightly from the rest of the walls. The impression was one of a castle, but a modest one.
Worth Property Management, Markus’s company, was very much a product of modern times, and completely constructed out of glass and steel.
I would rather be part of this family right here, he thought, crossing the parking lot. It feels more personal, somehow.
Maybe he could use this information to help Markus redesign and rebuild. After all, that was what he was meant to be doing in the first place. He was here to gather information.
He stepped inside and found himself in a lobby that was ringed with offices that operated behind walls of glass. Agents were perched within like zoo animals going about their day, busily working.
That was to be expected. What wasn’t expected was the way everyone looked up as he entered and offered him a smile or at least a wave. Tentatively, Jeremiah waved back and then continued looking. There were a great deal more plants inside than out, surprisingly. He had an idea that they were all real too, and not cheap plastic fabrications; the lobby smelled g
reen and alive and fresh, and felt just a bit humid.
There was an elevator against one wall, and a set of steps on the opposite side. Between them was a wide, curving smile of a desk covered in phones and computer screens and messy stacks of paper. Behind that desk was a petite young woman with a phone crammed between her ear and shoulder, as her arms worked busily elsewhere. Jeremiah stared, fascinated. She moved like an octopus, as if she had eight appendages. He had never seen anyone multitask quite like this, and especially not while talking in a clipped, professional manner.
Professional, and yet there was another difference right there. She was smiling, and he could hear it in her voice, so no doubt the caller would be able to as well. More friendliness.
Chris was telling the truth.
Not knowing what else to do, he walked up to the desk and waited near one end of it. The receptionist quickly finished with her call while he made an effort not to eavesdrop on any of it.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Jeremiah shuffled over awkwardly, uncertain of where to look. He hated staring at new people in the eyes. “Um, yes. I’m supposed to see Chris. Uh, Finley. Chris Finley. Mr. Finley. Your boss.”
He could have died from embarrassment, his stomach twisting. His legs wanted to run right back through those doors to get as far away from here as possible.
The receptionist spoke, and he heard her smiling. “Yes, I know who my boss is. Mr. Finley is in a meeting right now. Can I have your name and your message for him?”
He took a deep breath. “Jeremiah Bird. I’m actually here to go on a date with him.”
Just like that, the professional mask dropped away and the woman let out a gasp, bringing her hands up to press against her chest. “Oh, you’re Mr. Bird! I’m so sorry, I had no idea who you were.”
“It’s okay. Am I allowed to go up to him?”
“Of course, of course!” She smiled even wider than before and gestured toward the elevator. “We were expecting you. I apologize for that. Next time, you can just go up right away.”