Almost Easy

by Amelia Oliver

  A few days pass and I’d asked Evan to please talk to Rupert and tell him I was off the project. Pussy, I know. Every day since the gym incident, I’ve headed over to Coral Groves, they don’t need me at that job site, but I was avoiding anywhere Rupert might be. Again, pussy, I’m well aware. I make sure to get there at first light and don’t get home until late, enough time to eat, shower and go to bed.

  Stripping my clothes off, I stand in the laundry room and turn on the washer, tossing my clothes in, along with the other dirty clothes from the week. I walk through the house in my black boxer briefs, sweeping the wood as I go. The stereo is blasting Killswitch Engaged- “Arms of Sorrow,” while I clean and the television is on the basketball game, with the volume muted. I like living alone, but I’m used to living with eight other people so I feel weird when there’s no energy around me.

  I barely hear the knock on the door, followed by the doorbell over the music and figure it’s either Wyatt or possibly Evan, so I don’t go and throw clothes on. However, when I answer the door, I’m literally stunned to see Rupert standing there. His dress shirt untucked from his slacks, with a look in his eyes that I can only read as distressed. He opens his mouth again to speak, then pauses and pulls a face at the loud music assaulting his ears. Holding up my index finger, I move into the living room and grab the remote to turn the music off, while having a little internal discussion with my dick to not do anything stupid, since I’m only in boxers. Moving back to the entryway, he’s still standing there, but he’s stepped inside and is staring at me.

  “You left the project?” he finally asks.

  “Rupert,” I begin, and he raises his hands.

  “I need you…on this,” he says, almost panicking.

  “I’ll still be a soundboard, still available, I just think that…” I stop and let out a breath. “I thought that shit that happened years ago would be obsolete, but I guess it’s not. Seeing you again, fuck, you made me so hard and crazy. I wanted to fuck you in your office, I jerked off with you in the shower and I didn’t care who heard or saw us… that’s dangerous Rupert. For both of us.”

  Voicing how I feel, letting him know that yes, I want him, crashes into my gut and there’s a rush of adrenaline as the words come out.

  Taking in his frazzled state has my pulse thrumming, my heart pounding like a drummer on speed. I go to speak again, when taking one single step forward; Rupert’s lips halt any words, as he slams his mouth over mine. Lost to his kiss, I cup his face, feeling his stubbled cheek against my palm; I’m inhaling every piece of him I can get.

  I’m nearly lost in a haze of lust, when doubt creeps in, and hesitation has me slowing, pulling back from his lips. I don’t get very far.

  “No. Stop fighting this, I have,” he growls against my now closed mouth. “Just stop fighting… me.”

  With his last word, his mouth opens, forcing my lips to part, his tongue demanding entry. His arm shoots up, his hand gripping the back of my head, and he’s walking into me, forcing me to take a step back. My back hits the wall and I groan out the breath knocked from my lungs. His hips press into mine, his tongue slipping inside my mouth and my cock prepares for whatever might happen.

  He’s touching me, and just as I suspected that day in his office, the energy between us is cataclysmal. The reigns have been released, the horse running free and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to contain it again after this. My hands slide down his cheeks to his chest, pressing the flats against his pecs as my thumbs run over his nipples. He hisses in a breath and pushes his pelvis harder into me, the press of his cock against mine causes my tongue to delve deeper, and my hands move down to grip his hips. He gives back just as intensely. This, was not a kiss, it was a battle. One he seemed determined to win. My cock is barely being restrained by my boxer briefs and with every grind of my hips and thrust against his hipbone; I feel the material there becoming damp. I growl and want relief, my hands move to the front of his dress pants, before my wrists are being grabbed and forcefully brought above my head.

  I’ve had sex with men before, never like this. Not with someone I can feel is comparable to me. I’m the top, the more masculine partner, which is fine, but sometimes I want to be rough and get rough in return. He’s holding my wrists tight and he looks at me, maybe confirming that I’m good with this. I give him the look, one I hope he translates as, yes, I like this. His pupils are dilated, the chocolate shade being overpowered and turned to black. They scan my biceps, flexed and bulging due to the position. Then my collarbone, my pecs, my nipples. Leaning in, I anticipate his tongue on my chest, instead, the tip trails up in my armpit and my body jolts. His nose buries in the hair before his tongue runs up along my inner arm. I’ve never been touched like this before, explored in a sense, and fuck it’s turning me on. I can’t explain how manly he’s making me feel, making me want to be right now. But also, he’s making me want to submit and fucking bottom for him. My hands clench into fists as his lips attach to my neck, my hips pushing into his for some friction. Then his hands release me, his body steps back and I push away from the wall, an instinct to follow. We look at one another, chests heaving, cocks hard, lips wet and red.

  “Does this mean you’re back on the project?” he asks between loud exhales.

  My brain is short-circuiting, misfiring, as I stand there almost slack jawed, and all I can do is nod.

  Ch 6

  RUPERT

  Tonight when I’d driven towards the house that I knew had been his grandparents, I was on autopilot. Completely in my head, I’d been trying to figure out exactly why he’d remove himself from the project. Not coming up with any answers, answers that I found acceptable anyway, I’d worked myself up to the point where I needed to confront Nolan. Right then, at his house, face to face. Fuck professionalism, I was way past that. Besides, Nolan having Evan Ramirez make the call to tell me he was off the project was a complete fucking pussy move.

  There was no question that since the meeting in my office, my feelings toward him were all over the place. And then, I’d gone to the gym.

  Fuck.

  Me.

  Watching that man lift, all controlled power and rigid focus… how I didn’t face plant into the belt on that treadmill, I’ll never know. I’ll tell you this, running with a cock harder than marble is not for the feint of heart. Of course, it turns out, the showers weren’t either. I challenge any red-blooded, gay man on the planet to watch Nolan Frederickson shower, and not touch his dick. Wouldn’t happen. Hell, straight women faced with that sight would flick their clit raw.

  Deep down though, in a part of myself I was still mostly ignoring, I knew what had taken that stupid and risky-as-fuck shower from hot to scorching, was our connection. A connection I’d always felt, and had been relying on having during the project, so Nolan dropping out had blindsided me.

  Just days ago he’d looked me in the eye and told me that he’d be right there with me. Drawn in by his calm confidence and self-assured demeanor, I’d found myself opening up to him, sharing how nervous I was at heading up a project of this size. I’d also shared that this was my first solo project; and the biggest since the City of Plantain had employed me. I knew my ability to do this job well was being assessed, and that more than a few of my colleagues were assuming that I’d fail.

  As my long legs had eaten up the path towards his front door, I’d been hell bent on giving him a piece of my mind, and finding out once and for all what the fuck his problem with me was.

  Then, he’d answered the door.

  Wearing only tight black boxer briefs.

  Fuck me sideways, this guy did not play fair.

  Given he hadn’t known I was coming, I got that his state of undress wasn’t intentional, but it threw me the fuck off my game regardless. Some guys had the luck of the Gods, and some guys were the Gods. I’d been looking at one. All that smooth golden skin, pulled taut over his perfectly muscled frame, enhanced with tattoos. Tattoos I’d wanted to trace with my tongue, and my dick.
Nolan had completely filled my senses. My brain instantly short-circuited and the only word I could form was mine. Over and over like a repeating Morse code, mine. It was a modern-day miracle I ended up being able to speak words at all.

  But the moment Nolan gave voice to his craving for me, that was when I knew I was fucked. Yeah, my teenage lust for him had never entirely gone away, but fuck, it had never felt like this. This, whatever it was building between us, was next fucking level. The fact that for days now, my cock had developed it’s own heartbeat, was really only the first clue.

  So, I kissed him. I stopped his protests and his excuses, and I kissed him. And holy shit, that motherfucker could kiss. Getting over his initial hesitation, his lips were strong and demanding. Not only did I lose myself in them, I didn’t ever want to be found.

  Kissing a woman is different. They’re so much softer, they taste too sweet and the noises they make are girly and, let’s face it, cock-deflating. When you’re kissing a man, and not just any man, but one you’ve got a connection with, it’s primitive. There’s an inherent rawness to it that suggests something much more animalistic. They taste darker, richer and it’s much more physical. With the growling, the pushing and the shoving, it’s the kind of sexual aggressiveness I crave. Add to this the hardness of their jaw, the feel of their stubble grating against your own, and it’s an all-out clash. Each aggressor is looking to gain control and be the first to devour the other.

  Having just sampled Nolan’s kiss, our mouths equally taking and possessing, it was everything I’d ever wanted, and had yet to find. Our kiss was savage, making us both more beast than man. I can’t help but feel it was a claiming somehow, each of us staking our ownership, and that it was way more than simply a way to put a stop to his objections or my earlier panic.

  I knew instinctively Nolan would be an dominant lover, that he’d probably only ever topped, but I also got the feeling he’d never had a lover who could handle all of him. Handle all of his raw need, all of his deepest, darkest desires. I doubt he’s ever had a lover who was strong enough to push back; a lover who’d made him comfortable enough sexually to be vers.

  I’d watched his face as I’d forced his arms above his head, and taken what I’d needed from his body. While there was clear desire there, I’d also seen surprise. It was as though he was shocked by his reaction to my dominance, that he’d liked it as much as he did.

  Of course, this could all be a severe case of wishful thinking on my part. That my pulse hadn’t yet returned to normal wasn’t helping matters either. My cock on the other hand, fuck, I doubt that tortured bastard will ever be normal again.

  I know walking away from him after a kiss like that was the smart move, but damn if it didn’t take all of my strength and resolve to actually do it.

  Yes, I’d wanted to fuck the guy. I’d wanted to fuck him in a way that was so deep, so hard, that even him raising his eyebrows tomorrow would remind him of what we’d done. But, I want this project to be a success just as much. It’s something I’m passionate about, and I’d worked hard to get it through committee and into development.

  Despite the resistance of some, I know that it’s projects like these that keep Plantain moving forward. I’m more than aware of how lucky I am to have gotten a position on the council of the city I love, so putting all that in jeopardy for a one-night cockapalooza with Nolan is not something I’m prepared to do. No matter how spectacular my instincts tell me it would be.

  Besides, I want more. When it comes to Nolan Frederickson, I’m starting to think I want everything.

  Therefore, ignoring my protesting body, and the devil in my head telling me I’m only delaying the inevitable, I keep two hands on the wheel of my jeep and head for home.

  I’m gonna to need a strong drink, and an hour or two with my fleshlight.

  ******

  “Good morning, Beth,” I smile as I slow my walk past her desk, placing a pile of folders on top of her in-tray. Coming to a stop, I remember that she’s only here with me this morning, before heading downstairs to cover reception. As a new hire, I’m grateful to even have a secretary with how tight the staffing budget is, so when the reception team is short, I’m more than happy to do my own shit for a few hours so Beth can help them out.

  “Can you please make sure that each of the changes to these plans have been scanned and emailed to all the project heads, and then file the originals back in the records room?”

  “Of course, Mr. Harrington,” she nods as she replies.

  I simply arch one eyebrow at her with a slight smirk.

  “Sorry. Rupert. No problem at all,” she smiles shyly at me, and I give her a wink before moving into my office.

  I know that most of the other councilors here prefer to be addressed formally, but for fuck sake, this isn’t season one of Mad Men. I’m a twenty-five-year-old guy living in the new millennium, not fucking Don Draper. Although, fucking Don Draper would have its merits.

  Sitting at my desk, I sift through my phone messages, determining which ones I want to return and which ones I’ll give back to Beth to deal with.

  One stands out, and curiosity has me picking up the handset of my office line. Just as I’m about to dial, I’m aware Darth Patrick is breathing in my doorway and with the patented throat clearing that follows; I know he’s stopped.

  “Harrington. I hear that you’ve already lost the project manager on the high school build. Hope this isn’t an omen of things to come?”

  Seriously? I’m sure if you typed ‘smarmy’ into the search box on Google and selected images, this guys fucking face would be the first you’d see.

  I chuckle and offer him a friendly smile, “Well, you’d better have your hearing checked William. Nolan Frederickson is still the project manager for PC on that build. There have been no changes.”

  “I see. That is a relief. Leadership changes in a project of this size can be disruptive and detrimental to its success.” He looks at me as if he’s just gifted me with paradigm shifting wisdom so profound, it will change the course of my life.

  My face however remains passive and professional as he continues; “Well then, I’m sure you feel like you’ve got it under control. I’ll leave you to it.” With that, he turns on the heels of his shiny black, tasseled loafers and walks away.

  I still can’t get a solid read on William Patrick, other than he makes me uneasy, but I give him no more thought as I again pick up the handset and press zero for an outside line. Dialing a cell phone number I know from muscle memory, I twirl my fountain pen between my fingers as I wait for my call to be picked up.

  “Hello, this is Irys,” her voice is bright and has the clear pronunciation of someone running their own retail business.

  “Irys, hey, it’s Rupert. I hope I’ve got you at a good time? I was just returning your call.”

  She laughs, sounding both happy and tired at the same time.

  “Rupert, I’m the working mother of a child who is borderline OCD about the food he eats, the clothes he wears and the toys he plays with. There is no such thing as a good or a bad time.”

  I chuckle with her, though I have no idea what balancing all the aspects of her life would be like. That said, knowing Irys the way I do, she’d do it effortlessly. Making time for everyone and everything, she’d easily give all of herself to ensure the happiness of others, without hesitation or expectation of anything in return.

  “Anyway, the reason I called you earlier was to see if you were free for dinner one night next week? I was telling Daisy you were back, and I think it would be fun for us all to catch up. Now, what I mean by that is Daisy and I want to pump you for information about your life.”

  She’s laughing again, and I realize that I’m still smiling. She has always been such a sweet person and I’m so grateful that my shitty treatment of her didn’t tarnish her in any way. I don’t know if I could’ve forgiven myself if it had. Then again, I think Irys was stronger than I was back then, so she was probably always going to be ok
, no matter what.

  “Umm…” I hesitate a little, thinking about whether or not this dinner idea is a good one. I know Daisy of course, but I wouldn’t have gone as far as saying we were friends. As the BFF of the girl I was an asshole to, I’m sure there is some sort of secret chick code that demands Daisy stab me in the balls with a rusty fork on sight. I’d bet there’s not even a statute of limitations on that shit. Of course then there’s Evan, Irys’ husband, who I’m sure is no huge fan of mine. Not forgetting Daisy’s husband and Irys’ other brother Wyatt, who would probably hold me down for Evan and Daisy. That then leaves the one brother I do wonder about being there. Dinner with Nolan in a group setting, where temptation would be present, but the possibility to act on it was limited? Yes? No? Maybe…? Clearly taking too long to answer for her liking, Irys takes the choice out of my hands.

  “You know what, I’m not asking, I’m telling. Asking implies you have choice, and you don’t. This dinner is happening. I can only do so many songs from Yo Gabba Gabba before I need adult conversation. I’ll check in with Daisy when her and Wyatt are free and I’ll tell Nolan to keep next week open. He’s coming too; I can’t give that guy a choice either.” Irys makes a tsk sound, as if her brother weren’t a grown man and still needs his little sister to organize his life. Not finished organizing me either, she continues, “So, I’ll text you later with the final details. Thanks for calling back; I’m looking forward to it already. Oh, and Rupert?” The sing-song lilt to her voice should tip me off, but it doesn’t.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you have a dark green shirt?”

  “Yes,” I reply reflexively, before even having time to wonder why she’s asking.