by Daryl Banner
43
Trevor wonders if he really just said that.
Yes. Yes, I just said that.
If it weren’t for the intense stare Benjamin is giving me, I may not have let the words slip out at all. My words just crashed into him like a runaway train. The question is whether or not he’s aboard and willing to ride it to the land of interns who have no idea what the hell kind of deep waters they’re leaping into.
That’s me, by the way: a clueless intern leaping into the deep.
But at least I would be leaping into the deep with him, the beautiful man with the eyes that kill me.
And I meant those words, even if my insides are shaking with terror as I await his response. I figure we’re laying it all out on the table. I have nothing to lose but my dignity, and really, with my indistinct body all over the internet, it’s difficult to discern whether I still have any.
Oh, why not. I’ve freaked him out this much. Let’s go all in.
“I’ve fallen for you,” I amend.
“Trevor …” he warns me.
I reach around his waist, pulling our hips tighter against one another. I feel his hardness, desperate to know it intimately all over again. “I’d give anything to be back on that beach.”
“Me too.”
“I don’t care if a hundred guys take a hundred pics of my ass.”
“It was my ass, actually.”
“I came here for the experience. I stayed here for my career. I never thought I would end up with something worth more than all of that combined.”
Ben growls, his eyes trailing down my body as we hold each other. Our cocks are having their own separate conversation, by the way. His flexes, then mine. Mine flexes, then his. Both grow harder with every passing second.
“Trevor, we need to finish up here,” he tells me, trying on his usual dominant tone as he struggles for control, “and then we can talk at my condo afterwards about everything.”
“Your pop star won’t be here for another three hours. We have … numbers to go over.” I reach around and grab a big handful of his butt, earning a growl from him. “Like the number of times I caught myself staring at your stunning, muscled ass this weekend, desperate to bury my face in it.”
“Trevor. Stop.”
The deep, gravelly sound of his words tell me to do anything but stop. I move my lips to his ear, taking the lobe between my teeth. He moans as I bite down. When I let go, I whisper in his ear, “The number of places I want to kiss you … bite you …”
“I’m warning you …”
I’m in front of his face, eyeing him with deadly, hungry intent. “And the number of ways you drive … me … fucking … crazy.”
Then, it’s over for the both of us.
Our lips crash together. Our hands fumble with each other’s clothes. Buttons pop off. Cuffs are loosened. Ties are thrown. Pants come undone.
And then I’m shoving Ben at the desk, bending him over it.
Benjamin’s sexy slacks pull down with ease, like his thick legs are all greased up and slippery for me. I kneel down behind him—my back to the blinds, to the office, to all the bullshit I want to put out of our heads—and I stare at the magnificent hunk of meat that is Ben’s gorgeous globes.
I have wanted to bury my face in this piece of ass paradise so badly the same way he’s done to me—twice.
And now I finally get my chance.
He moans when I grip his butt cheeks, filling each of my hands with his firm flesh. I can’t help but kneel here and simply admire the joy that is Benjamin’s ass. I realize in this moment that I’ve never gotten a chance to worship it so up-close.
Really, how many damned squats does a man have to do to achieve a work of art like this?
At long last, I bring my face into his warm, perfect butt. I’m completely buried in it in seconds, engulfed in Benjamin on all sides. Just the sensation of having my face surrounded by him completely is overwhelmingly erotic. I can’t possibly quantify the amount of arousal I’m experiencing.
“Trevor …” I hear from above.
I groan, twisting my face and opening my mouth, desperate to get even deeper between his cheeks. I have never, ever wanted my face submerged in something so badly—not even my grandma’s lemon Bundt cake. I’ve never felt more thrill from such a simple act as this—not even from the very first time I was tall enough to ride the roller coaster with the loop.
Benjamin is my loop, and he’s got my head spinning in ecstasy between his magnificent cheeks.
“Trevor … it’s brighter in here …”
His words don’t even make sense to me. All I see, all I know, all I love and adore is Ben’s beefy butt, which has eclipsed all the light in my world. Who needs light when you have ass to the left, ass to the right, ass on my mind, ass everywhere?
“TREVOR! THE BLINDS!”
I pull away from heaven, my sight restored, and turn around to face the floor-to-ceiling office windows, confused.
I’m not confused for long.
The blinds are wide open. Through the glass, the entire office is watching.
Every single employee.
Every single intern.
And a cocky-looking teen I’ve seen on TV—Hawk, the Jersey boy himself—whose face is frozen in a permanent laugh.
And Rebekah with a turned-over cup at her feet, evidence of the coffee she just let go in shock.
And Elijah, my dear sweet friend, whose eyes have widened so much, the whites of them flash, and whose jaw hangs so low he could fit his fist inside.
And Brady, standing proudly right in the front, the only one whose expression does not reflect surprise, but rather knowing smugness, a look of dark triumph in his pretty, glittery eyes as he aims his phone our way, capturing it all.
And then there’s me, still proudly gripping the ass cheeks of my boss and taking the term “brownnosing” to an all new low.
44
Trevor’s not here. Leave a message.
I stare at the oversized stuffed teddy bear across the room.
It stares back and offers no advice.
I’ve been having a staring contest with an inanimate object in my bedroom that is Elijah’s storage room for three solid hours.
“Trev?”
Just like the last fourteen times my roommate’s tried to speak to me, I let his words go ignored, preferring the company of this teddy bear who knows better than to try and speak to me now.
Brady—or maybe another intern who also had their phone out, for all I know—recorded the whole thing the second Ben’s (or was it my?) hand slipped and hit that stupid switch on his desk that opened the blinds behind us and exposed us to the whole office, much like drawing back the curtains on a goddamned stage.
And there I was, center stage, right in the spotlight before my audience of coworkers, eating out my boss’s ass.
Benjamin Gage’s ass.
The pictures were online within hours. I had already made it home by then, unable to face anyone or anything. Having to cut through that office full of gawkers as I ran out is one of the worst experiences I have ever had to endure.
The amount of humiliation I experienced was paralyzing.
And it hasn’t ended. It chased me all the way home.
And now it’s on the internet. Forever.
Really, I should be able to look back and laugh at this, right? I mean, it’s hilarious. Gut-busting, even. After my best friend Elijah and arch nemesis Brady secretly and not-so-secretly assumed that I was trying to fuck my way to the top, I’m no sooner caught with my boss’s pants down and my face buried nose-deep in ass.
I mean, if they’re going to call me a brownnoser, can we get any more fucking literal than that?
Yes, it turns out we can. On my way home, I tripped over the leg of a homeless man on accident, flew over a surprise stack of newspapers that ambushed me, and landed face-first in a puddle of something brown and greasy that I will spend the rest of the night caring not to identify. When I got home, I had more than a br
own nose. I had a ruined pink shirt, a soiled black tie, and a nightmare of nastiness across my face.
It was even in my hair.
I cried, staring at myself in the mirror. I cried washing the crap off of me in the shower. Then I cried drying off and dressing.
Then I collapsed in my room and cried some more. After an hour or five, I’ve completely run out of tears. There’s not a single bit of moisture left in my face to squeeze out. Numb and struck silent by my own stupidity, I just stare across the dark room at the giant teddy bear whose glassy eyes catch the sliver of light coming from the hallway.
And I ponder my life.
It’s ruined. Everything is ruined. My career. My job. Whatever future I could have had.
But really, let’s not make this all about me. What about Ben? He’ll never live this down. He’ll be the man who fucks his interns, even if I was his first and only. If his little sexual hiccup in Mexico wasn’t bad enough, now he’ll be known as the man who really puts his interns through the rigorous ringer to achieve great heights. Yeah, achieving great heights by sinking to your knees and burying your sniffer in the boss’s bum.
“Trev. I’m coming in.”
Again, I don’t respond. Beep. Please leave a message at the tone.
Elijah slips quietly into the room, eclipsing the light from the hallway for a second. Mercifully, he shuts the door behind him, then stumbles in the dark over to my bed where he takes a seat, the springs beneath him squawking their disapproval like a family of metallic chickens.
“How are you holding up, buddy?”
I don’t respond or move. I even stopped hugging my knees to my chest an hour ago, too spent to bother with even that much effort. I’m just sitting on the squeaky bed, one leg hanging off, one splayed out before me, my back flat against the headboard and my hands resting limply in my lap.
He sighs. “Dumb question, I know.”
Elijah clicks his tongue, turning his face away. Though my eyes are adjusted to the dark, I can only barely see the silhouette of his messy hair when his head turns. The window doesn’t help much, offering little in the way of moonlight tonight.
“You know,” Elijah recalls, “I did tell you before the summer began that this job might require some ass kissing. I just didn’t think you’d interpret that so literally.”
“I’ve heard all the jokes,” I mumble, surprised by the grumbly sound of my voice, which I haven’t used once in the past several hours. “I made most of them up in my head already.”
“Some of the headlines are cute.”
I blink. “Headlines?”
Elijah turns toward me, but I can’t see his face. “Um … you do realize you’re exploding on the internet right now, don’t you? I’m pretty sure one of the YouTube videos had over forty thousand views in the first hour it was up.”
One of the YouTube videos. Just one.
You’d think I’d have a reaction to that. I don’t.
No reaction at all.
Just like the teddy bear across the room.
“Listen, I really … really … don’t want to judge you,” Elijah starts, “but I have to ask. How the hell did you seduce Benjamin Gage? And when? The man is untouchable.”
There hasn’t been any sound in this room for so long, Elijah’s voice seems unnaturally loud, rattling my skull and filling up my ears. “On a Friday night,” I murmur drowsily.
“On a Friday night …?”
“The Friday night,” I amend. “You and me, loosening up. The nightclub. The one you took me to.”
Elijah sits with that information for a second. Then, he slowly turns to face me, and in the dark, I see his jaw drop. “No way. No … fucking … way. Benjamin Gage was the guy from that night??”
“The one and only.”
“The rich prick?? Mister Rich Prick?? Oh my God!” Elijah is off my bed in an instant, grabbing his hair. “All this time! Holy shit!” He spins around suddenly, facing me. “So why didn’t you tell me back then, Trevor? This could’ve been our secret!”
“I didn’t know at the time,” I tell him. “I thought he was just a sexy man from the club. I didn’t recognize him until that first Monday when he showed up at the office—”
“And you freaking fell at his feet like you were diving into home base.” Elijah slaps his own face. “Damn, that’s fucked up. Wait a second,” he exclaims suddenly, lifting a finger as he puts even more of the puzzle together. “Wait, wait, wait. Our boss … was bathroom boy, too?”
My words are deadpan, affectless, spent. “Yep.”
Elijah starts pacing the room. “This is big. This is really big. I knew it when I saw that beach photo. I just …” He stops by the bed and stares down at me, his voice changing. “I just didn’t think this was your style, Trevor.”
“Style …?”
“Sneaking around. Dating the boss. Running off to Mexico, you punk. You were supposed to leave the country for the first time with me, bro. It’s why we got passports together!”
I shrug, then turn to stare out the window, defeated. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Elijah. My whole life is fucked.”
After a moment, he sits back down on the bed, inviting the springs to squawk again. “You … should probably know what happened after you left.”
“I probably shouldn’t.”
“The moment after you tore out of that office like your pants were on fire …”
“It wasn’t my pants. It was my face, from the humiliation.”
“Rebekah was first to take charge, ordering everyone to hand over their phones. Even Hawk. Oh my God, if I could describe the look on his face at being told what to do by the short, tight-bunned Rebekah—Hah!” He claps once, hooting. “Anyway, I saw there was a guy who was slipping off to the bathroom, hands in his pockets like he was hiding something. A certain someone. Brady.”
“His phone,” I mumble, catching on. “It was him.”
“Pissed off as I was at you, I didn’t like the way he slipped off so fast. I went straight to Rebekah and told her he’d gone off to the bathroom the moment she asked for everyone’s phones. When he came out a minute later and played his big innocent eyes, I knew he’d done it. So did Rebekah, I think, but there was no trace of a video on his phone. He must’ve sent it to himself, or shot a few photos over to one of our media outlets. He’ll be caught, Trevor. I know it was him. It’s just a matter of—”
“Time,” I finish for him, expressionless. “Like how much time it’ll take for the whole world to know me as the boss-fucker. How can I go back to campus, even? They’ll remember in the fall. Even my professors. Classmates. Everyone. I’m so fucked.”
Elijah sighs. “Listen. Rebekah, she’s not stupid. I know she thinks it’s Brady, too. She doesn’t trust that pompous pineapple. But she likes you. That’s why she let me go early … so I could come be with you. I … don’t know where Mr. Gage went.”
“Why are you being nice to me now?” I retort, the first hint of emotion returning to my voice. “You acted like I was dead to you since yesterday. You avoided me in the office.”
Elijah sighs again, then crawls up the bed to sit right next to me. I adjust, giving him more room, but then he throws his arm over my back and pulls me against him like a brother, not letting me get away. “I was pissed at you, sure. I’m still pissed at you. But I never turn my back on my best friend, especially not when he’s gonna need me.” He faces me. “And you’re gonna need me.”
“Are things really that bad?” I ask, nearly in a whimper. “The headlines? The articles? Is it really as bad as I think it is?”
Elijah bites the inside of his cheek, not responding.
“Oh, God,” I breathe. “It is that bad.”
“I …” Elijah tries playing it off with a little shrug. “I think we just need to let some time pass. I mean, think about it. New shit goes viral every damned day. People have short memories. And—no offense—but Benjamin Gage is really the focus of the whole scandal. He’s the one this will affect
for quite some time. You’re … well, you’re just the intern.”
“Just the intern,” I echo, suddenly feeling very bad for Ben.
“Rebekah really feels a lot for you. I wasn’t kidding. Boy, have you gotten her all soft on you these past few weeks,” Elijah teases. “She had the biggest look of sympathy in her eyes when she told me I could go ahead home to look after you.”
“I still don’t think I deserve your kindness.”
Elijah turns his face to me, his lips near my eye when he says, “You remember the day we met? It was on the playground in third grade. Some dicks were fucking with you, trying to shove sand down your shorts. I beat the ever-lovin’ shit out of them, got sent to the principal’s office, and earned a week of detention.”
“Oh, come on,” I interject, a bit of life revived into me at the memory. “You only served one tiny day of that week because the principal pitied you.”
“Felt like a week to me!” Elijah boasts. “And besides, I would have served that whole week if I could, because that’s what friends do. They stand up for each other … even when their buddy’s face is mining for gold up their boss’s ass.”
I shove at him for that, but he keeps me tightly held against him, uncaring.
“I feel like I could have stopped all of this,” he adds, a tinge of regret in his voice.
I glance at him. “What do you mean?”
“I should’ve gone after Brady,” he explains. “Could’ve stopped him sending those pics and videos. I should have socked that fuck-nut right in the jaw.”
“No, Elijah. It wouldn’t have been worth it.”
“Fuck yeah, it would have been! I should have punched him, taken his phone, and snapped it in half.”
“Yeah, and then you would be in jail right now charged with assault and damaging his property. Then all I’d have is this teddy bear to look after me tonight … and not my … my best friend.”
He gives me another squeeze with his arm, then lays his head on top of mine as I sink against his chest. “Even then, you’d still have me, Trev. Even if I was sitting in a jail cell nursing my knuckles, I’d be proud. You always, always have me.”