Office Dynamics: M/M Workplace Straight to Gay First Time Romance (6 page)

Tris looked at him for a moment and shook his head. And Jonas knew that that meant Tris had made up his mind about something; he knew because he wasn’t stupid.

“All right,” Jonas said.

So they were back to that.

---

Truthfully, Jonas wasn’t all that torn up about it. He was glad it was over before it really began.

Luke was right about one thing: 
never shit where you eat
.

Jonas liked Tris, but he probably wasn’t worth losing his job, and even if he were worth more than that, Jonas would never really know as they never got past first base. Jonas wasn’t even sure if people still called it that.

Jonas only had eight weeks left before his contract ended; he figured he could do it without sustaining lasting injury.

And then the annual H & Co Halloween Party happened, and Jonas found himself, inevitably, because he lacked imagination, Luke said, dressed like a cowboy, complete with the hat and the obnoxious belt buckle that took at least ten minutes to put on. Denim jacket, rugged jeans, as Jonas didn’t feel like wearing leather chaps even for the novelty of it, and a red button up shirt.

Luke, who went dressed as Han Solo, called him Marlboro Man. “Hey, Marlboro Man,” he said, slapping Jonas on the back. “You behave yourself. I don’t want to see you hitting on any of the interns, all right? You’ve got what, six weeks left? Do not get drunk and do something stupid.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jonas rolled his eyes. He hated it when Luke treated him like he didn’t know any better. If there was anyone Luke needed to keep an eye on it was Liam, their younger brother, who went around chasing girls and nearly got one impregnated last summer, all before he hit sixteen.

The party was boring, but Jonas could see why almost everybody showed up in full costume. It wasn’t every day people got dressed up for work; this was their one chance in the year to show off and, if permitted, get laid before Christmas.

The open bar helped.

Jonas was on his way back from the men’s room, dunking a paper towel into the bin, when he saw Tris on the balcony, alone, dressed in a swarthy robe and floppy sandals, a glass of scotch held aloft in one hand. He looked deep in thought.

Jonas walked up to him because he was apparently in possession of a masochistic streak. “Howdy,” he said, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops. “You look like a prepubescent Jesus.”

Tris raised an eyebrow. “I’m Julius Caesar, not 
Jesus
.” But he smiled anyway which was always a good sign. “And what are you supposed to be? A cowboy?”

Jonas lowered his hat. “Yes, sir.”

“No leather chaps?”

Jonas leaned back against the balcony, shrugging. “Not really my thing.”

“I’m sure you could pull off the look,” Tris teased.

It was the nicest he’d ever been to Jonas since his father’s funeral and Jonas smiled, feeling that familiar kick of tenderness bloom inside him. Usually, Tris sent Jonas on his way after he’d delivered the morning paper or the coffee or whatever odd trinket Tris had asked Jonas to procure. But now this. An actual conversation.

It was probably the scotch, Jonas suspected. He craned his neck at the view half a mile below. If he fell, Jonas thought, he’d die right away in a hideous splatter.

“Did you bring a date?” Tris asked all of a sudden. It took Jonas by surprise he snapped his head up and blinked.

“Nope,” he said, not sure why that was important. He waited until he was sure his face wouldn’t break. “You?”

Tris shook his head no.

Jonas sighed in relief.

“I should probably head back,” Tris said, arranging his curls under his gold laurel leaf crown. He nodded at Jonas and shuffled off, and Jonas padded after him, jogging to keep up, slowing down to fall into step with him.

The hallway was quiet, empty, the walls decorated gaudily with streamers and sneering paper skeletons. Jonas never really got Halloween.

He reached out and touched Tris’s arm.

Tris glanced up at him, biting his lip slowly. “Yes?” he said.

Jonas, moved by some insane impulse that seemed to take him over without consulting with his brain, shoved Tris up against the wall and kissed him.

---

That was probably the stupidest thing he could do in that situation, Jonas knew, but it seemed to work out anyhow because after some time, Tris began to kiss back, lurching up against him to wind his arms around Jonas’ neck.

He tasted like scotch, but Tris felt so good in Jonas’ arms, responsive and seeking, the gentle pressure of his tongue making Jonas moan and deepen the kiss, that Jonas couldn’t find the heart to complain.

He slid a hand up Tris’s thigh, swallowing Tris’s sharp inhale. “Fuck,” said Tris, rubbing up against him. “Jonas.” His head hit the wall as his eyes closed.

They heard people coming in from the end of the hall, and the two of them leaped from each other quickly, as if burnt. And then Tris grabbed Jonas by the wrist and dragged him, giddy, into a nearby storeroom cluttered with mops and a shelf of cleaning oils.

It was a tight fit.

Jonas peered through the door crack. It was Giselle dressed up as a witch in a billowing black cape and a black pointy hat. Next to her was Terry, in a blond wig, red paint slathered on his white shirt. He wore a nameplate on his right breast pocket.

Giselle and Terry were holding hands, swinging them together wildly as they ambled to the balcony, Giselle toting her high heeled shoes over her shoulder, complaining about her feet, laughing at something Terry whispered to her as they bumped into each other deliberately.

Jonas shut the door to give them privacy. “I think they’re gone,” he said, even though they probably weren’t.

“Are you sure?”

Jonas fought off a smile, crossing his arms. “Yeah,” he said, shrugging.

Tris sipped his scotch, then stepped forward so that they stood toe to toe, and Jonas knew.

It was on.

---

“Hang on a minute,” said Tris a little later, tilting his head to the side. “Let me finish my drink.” He drained his scotch in one swallow, grimacing, belching softly, shaking his head so vigorously his crown twisted askew.

Jonas propped it back on, flattening his curls.

“Okay, now I’m ready,” Tris said, swatting at Jonas’ hand. Then Tris set his glass down on the top shelf and took Jonas’ face in his hands without warning. Then he kissed him long and lazy and hard then lazy again, pulling back a few times to lick Jonas’ bottom lip.

Jonas sighed, gliding his fingers up Tris’s ribs.

---

How Jonas could go from hating Tris to liking him a little to giving him a blowjob in a store room, Jonas didn’t know, but right now he felt that there was nowhere else he’d rather be than wedged between Tris’s knees, bobbing his head as he tried to fit as much of Tris’s cock as he could in his mouth. A year ago, if someone had suggested to him that he'd be here now, Jonas would have laughed, and meant it. There'd never been any kind of denial in him: it was just that he'd never really paused to give it much thought, the whole
guys
thing, because girls liked him and were easier and there'd never been a man who'd caught his eye and held it long enough to make him consider taking a dick in his mouth. But then there was Tris, and something about him – Jonas couldn't even have said what it was, because it certainly hadn't been his warm and welcoming attitude, but at any rate, here he was, messy and unpractised on his knees, and despite the ache of it, he was glad. More than glad, because the sounds Tris was making were going straight to Jonas' gut, making him crazy.

Tris slithered up against him, hips loose under his hand as Tris thrust intermittently, watching the slow slide of Jonas’ tongue over the head with heated eyes.

Jonas swirled the tip of his tongue and Tris came abruptly, hips twitching, hissing out a breath as Jonas slid off him with a noisy pop.

“Thank god you’re wearing a dress,” Jonas said, and spat in a corner, wiping his mouth against his sleeve.

“Robe, not a dress,” Tris corrected him and hitched Jonas up by the collar, licking the whorls of his ear so that Jonas felt himself shiver down to his feet.

“My turn,” Tris said, and then tugged at Jonas’ zipper; then there was a thump as he got into position, a low hum as he took out Jonas’ cock, and then a soft clatter as Jonas knocked a mop over with his arm when Tris curled his tongue out and touched it to the tip.

Jonas groaned and held onto the top shelf for dear life.

---

The night proved to be one of the best nights of Jonas’ life because it never seemed to end.

An hour later they were at Tris’s condo, shedding their costumes at the foyer, Jonas kicking off his shoes as Tris plucked off his cowboy hat and replaced his crown with it, throwing back his head.

“How does it look on me?”

Ridiculous, of course, but Jonas felt oddly fond of him for a moment, Tris’s eyes half-lidded as he rubbed a thumb across Jonas’ lips and smiled. They kissed some more as they stumbled blindly into the bedroom, Tris pulling Jonas’ shirt from his jeans and undoing his belt buckle. He stroked Jonas through his underwear until Jonas was fully erect, thrusting against his palm and begging him to go faster.

“You’re clean, right?” Tris said, pulling away. He licked his lips, and Jonas, feeling feverish, nodded his head before slipping his hand up the small of Tris’s back and holding him close.

Tris’s shiver did not go unnoticed.

“Yeah, of course,” Jonas said. He hadn’t had sex in about half a year and the last time it had happened, the girl had excused herself politely to the bathroom about thirty seconds after Jonas had finished, which hadn't exactly been the most ego-boosting of reactions for a guy to receive.

Jonas worried a little about his performance in the sack -- he was rough and out of practice, he thought, a little hysterically, as if that was the thing to worry about and not the fact that doing it with Tris was bound to be completely out of the realm of Jonas' experience, even if Jonas did know his way around guy parts from the years he'd spent experimenting with his own. But when Tris was finally completely naked, slinking up the mahogany work desk and folding his leg over Jonas’ hip to reel him in, the anxiety fell away, transmuted into something else. Tris pushed the tube of lube in Jonas’ hand, squeezing, and Jonas swallowed and hoped he didn’t come prematurely in his underwear because Tris spreading his legs like that was possibly one of the hottest things he’d ever seen in his life.

“Do it,” Tris said.

“You sure?”

At Tris’s nod, Jonas uncapped the lid. He slathered what he thought was a decent amount of lube between his fingers before dipping his hand between Tris’s knees.

Tris leaned back on his palms, craning his neck to watch Jonas work him open, legs splayed wide and raised. He squirmed at the first finger, and the second one only made him stiffen uncomfortably.

But Jonas crooked his fingers inward until he struck gold and Tris’s breath hitched audibly, cock twitching as Jonas continued rubbing in circles. “That feel good?” he asked, even though he knew full well what the answer was.

Tris nodded and shifted again as Jonas withdrew. And then Jonas was pushing inside him, sweaty hands up Tris’s thighs as Tris dug his heels in with a pained grunt. They waited a breath before Jonas started moving again, angling his thrusts and working himself in slowly, deeper each time.

Tris sighed and moaned as he clutched the edge of the desk with damp palms, cock a rigid angry curve against his belly.

Jonas looked up from the tangle of hair in his face. “Feel good?”

“Fuck yeah,” Tris said, breath stilted. “Do it harder.”

Jonas did, watching his cock disappear inside the tight clutch of Tris’s greedy hole.

Tris was a kinky little bastard, and shameless about it too, not exactly smiling or smirking, but eyeing Jonas lazily as Jonas fucked into him in broad thorough strokes, curling one hand around Tris’s ankle to lift it over his shoulder, the other pressed high up over Tris’s knee to keep him spread open, in position.

Tris seemed to be enjoying himself, mouth opening and closing in soundless moans. It was nice, Jonas thought, to see him lose control like this, break character. He plunged in, burying himself to the root, lingering for a moment pressed snug against that tight heat, watching the way Tris’s eyes closed as he waited for Jonas to move, his chest heave in irregular breaths. It was exquisite.

Jonas, who had always wanted to try having sex bracing someone against the wall, maneuvered Tris around and hooked Tris’s legs around his hips. “Hold on,” he said, and Tris did, locking his ankles and clamping down on Jonas.

Jonas nearly fell over on his way to the glass wall that overlooked the entire city and Tris laughed at him for his trouble, rolling his hips and squirming as Jonas propped him against the wall.

“Is this some sort of sordid secret fantasy of yours?” Tris asked as Jonas rocked into him slowly.

“Don’t pretend it isn’t yours too,” Jonas said.

“Not even close,” Tris said, just as his back squeaked noisily against the glass and he let out a throaty moan. Then he started jerking himself off in time to Jonas’ thrusts, and then he came, hard, clenching around Jonas’ cock as he pumped himself dry.