Office Dynamics: M/M Workplace Straight to Gay First Time Romance (9 page)

Jonas spent an entire week waiting for his phone to ring, wanting to drop Tris a visit, but he kept picturing Tris in his kitchen, sidling up to some hot Brazilian model, laughing in happiness because Jonas was out of his life for good. So Jonas didn’t text him either, or call him, and one day, in a fit of immaturity, deleted Tris’s number from his list of contacts.

He regretted that. A lot. But it was therapeutic in its own way.

It made him feel less pathetic, finger poised over the send button before deleting his text.

Every now and then Jonas wondered how Tris was doing and was tempted, a lot of the time, to swing by the office for the hell of it.

But he never did. Jonas was too much of a coward to do that; he was too much of a coward to do anything, really.

---

And then sometime in February, Tris showed up at his doorstep, with a bouquet of tulips and a box of Betty’s Handmade Piedmont Hazelnut Pralines right before Jonas was getting ready to shower for a job interview.

Jonas blinked, did a double take, opened his mouth.

Tris wore a button down white shirt and beige slacks that went up to his knees, and he looked oddly tan in places though if Jonas peeked far enough into the V of his shirt, he could see misplaced pale splotches of skin.

“Really, you shouldn’t have bothered,” Jonas said with a raised eyebrow, taking both the box and flowers, tucking them under one arm. He should’ve remembered to put on a shirt before answering the door. “I’m not a flowers and chocolate kind of guy, but uh, thanks.”

“You should put those in a vase,” Tris said.

“I don’t own a vase,” Jonas told him. He didn’t let Tris in.

“I went to a palm reader last night after my father’s will was finalized,” Tris said, and Jonas, who was still hurt about everything because he got stupidly sensitive and sentimental and was, like Luke said, gullible to a fault, listened inattentively and tried his best not to make faces. “And she said the strangest thing: that I needed to reclaim something of mine that I had lost otherwise I’d lose it forever. Of course, I thought she meant my grandfather’s company but then. Then I thought of you.”

Jonas crossed his arms. “A palm reader? 
Really?
” He wasn’t that stupid.

“You’re no longer my employee,” Tris explained. “Which I suppose means we can go out now. I know that that’s what you want.” He laughed a little, as if he thought this were funny.

“And you waited a month to tell me this?”

“I needed time to think.” Tris looked embarrassed and hurt, and Jonas thought: good for him. He should feel embarrassed and hurt.

“It’s not that easy,” Tris said gently. “Do you know how much I’m worth?”

Jonas shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t care about money.”

“It isn’t 
about
 money. I have a company to run,” Tris said. “I have to think about everybody too. Not just myself. If word gets out that I’m fucking my secretary…”

Jonas interrupted him with a loud sigh. “Fine, I get it. What do you want then?” He massaged the headache he could already feel forming between his eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Why do you think?”

Jonas knew, but he couldn’t do it all over again if it meant a repeat of the last time. All they did was have sex and while that was good for a while, Jonas often felt it lacked something. And that absence of something made him feel empty afterwards, once the fog of sex disappeared and he was sent on his way home, to contemplate the night before.

“I have a job interview in an hour,” Jonas said, because really, what else was there to say. He was tired of playing games. And if he didn’t leave soon, he was going to be late to the goddamn interview.

“I can wait,” Tris said.

Jonas made a pained face at him. “I don’t know what time I’ll even get back, Tris.”

“I can wait,” Tris assured him.

Jonas thought: 
fine
, suit yourself, and left him in the kitchen and went for a shower. He dressed quickly, smoothing his hair back from his face with hair gel. He needed to get it cut or Luke might start calling it ‘jungle hair’ again, he thought.

Jonas put on his tie and deeming himself ready, grabbed his wallet from the dresser.

“Good luck,” Tris said to him, standing in the doorway, one hand lifted.

Jonas, feeling oddly out of center, nodded. “Thanks.”

He waved awkwardly and left.

When he got back that afternoon, Tris was still there, drinking coffee from a chipped mug and leafing through a backdated magazine. He looked up at the rattle of keys by the door. “How’d it go?”

“Swimmingly,” Jonas said. He loosened his tie and threw himself on the opposite end of the couch, closing his eyes.

“Well, I hope it works out,” Tris said after a beat.

Jonas laughed. “Yeah, me too.” He eyed the vase of flowers on the coffee table. “Where’d you get the vase?”

“Cupboard in the kitchen,” Tris answered, folding his magazine and tossing it aside. He looked expectant, turning his body towards Jonas, eyes searching his face.

What now, Jonas thought with sudden trepidation. He should’ve kicked Tris out when he had the chance. Jonas didn’t know what to do with him.

“I’m sorry.”

Jonas raised his head, blinking.

“I don’t know,” continued Tris in a low voice. “I’m just.” He clenched his fists. “I’m 
sorry
. I know I was cruel to you, and in a strange way, I expected you to hate me, and I 
wanted
 you to hate me but you didn’t; you stayed. I was supposed to fire you after a week but I couldn’t do it. You were too… I liked you too much. And I was stupid and I was unkind to you, and I missed you when I went on holiday, when you weren’t there to bring me coffee in the morning. God knows I love Edith to death, but she isn’t you. And I waited for you to call but you didn’t, so I got angry, so I didn’t call you, either. And I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.”

And he looked really sad about it too, steepling his fingers in front of his face and closing his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

Jonas touched his arm. He couldn’t believe it. Tris had broken his heart and here he was, doing the comforting. The universe had upended. He rubbed Tris’s arm, the way he knew Tris liked.

“Come here,” Jonas said, and squeezed him to his chest, burying his face in Tris’s curls. He smelled the same: minty and clean. Jonas breathed in the scent to commit it to memory. God, he thought, shivering. Luke was right. He 
was
 so fucking gullible.

“You can’t just barge in here and expect me to forgive you,” Jonas told him, because this was true; flowers and candy weren’t his thing. He needed something real and concrete, no empty promises. “I’m not 
that
 easy.”

Except it turned out that he 
was
, because before long Jonas was tipping his head forward and Tris was lifting his mouth to his, and then they were kissing, gently at first and firmly before Tris turned in Jonas’ arms and slid his hands up Jonas’ jaw. He pulled back, he was always the first to pull back, but this time, it was to look into Jonas’ face.

“Your hair is longer now,” Tris said, voice soft and full of wonder.

Jonas shrugged, shaking his hair loose from its ponytail like a dog. “Yep,” he said, laughing a little. “Luke calls it my 
jungle hair
. You like it?”

Tris tipped back his head, sniffing out a laugh and then smiling. He looked gorgeous when he did that, Jonas thought; he wondered how he survived a month and a half without it, the sound of Tris’s laughter.

“Jungle hair?” Tris repeated incredulously.

Jonas nodded and pulled him in for a hug. He never wanted to let Tris go; he hoped this lasted. Jonas had never really believed, before, in the concept of forever but he didn’t want this to end, the kissing, the hugging, Tris’s breath fanning his cheek, whatever this was between them, it was good and Jonas didn’t want it taken away again.

“Hey,” he said after a second, peering down. His chin touched the slope of Tris’s nose.

“I’m starving,” Jonas said. “And I haven’t had lunch. You wanna get a Judas Priest burger or something?”

Tris twirled a finger around the strands of Jonas’ new long hair. His face looked soft when he smiled and he reached up and tugged at the coil of hair behind Jonas’ ear, making Jonas shiver.

“I’d love that,” Tris said. “But I’m not your boss anymore so I won’t be paying for you.” He jabbed Jonas in the chest.

Jonas grinned and kissed him again, once, twice, swiping his tongue across Tris’s bottom lip. Forever, he thought. “
I’m
 paying,” he promised earnestly. “I just got this new job and the starting pay is 
through the roof
!”

---

Two months later, Tris showed up at Jonas’ place again, in a tartan cap and white leather gloves. His golf attire, Jonas knew. He looked tired and tanned.

“I’m not playing golf with you,” Jonas told him, remembering how that had turned out the last time. He didn’t want to play caddy under the stifling heat; he didn’t want to nearly pass out again.

Tris invited himself in like he always did, charmingly obnoxious about it like he always was, hanging his cap behind the hook on the door, on top of Jonas’ leather jacket.

“Who says I’m here about golf?” he said. “It’s six at night. Who plays golf 
at six at night?
”

“Country club?” Jonas guessed, giving Tris’s clothes one last look before heading back to the kitchen to fix dinner.

Tris sighed, waving a hand and rolling his eyes. “I honestly don’t know why I even go there anymore. I hate everyone; they smell like rapidly approaching death and tobacco. Do you have anything to eat? I’m 
famished
.”

Jonas laughed as he handed Tris a beer from the fridge. “Well, you’re in luck. I just happen to be making dinner before you arrived.”

“Oh? What are we having?”

“Actually, I’m just heating stuff. Marge’s beef pot pie.” Jonas took an experimental sniff of the Tupperware, declared the pie was still good, and loaded it into the microwave, pressing the necessary buttons.

“Mmm,” Tris said, coming up behind Jonas. He squeezed Jonas’ waist, tucked his chin into Jonas’ shoulder and rocked them a little, warm and firm against Jonas’ back. “Marge’s beef pot pie is my absolute favorite,” he said, curling against Jonas’ neck like a cat.

Jonas stroked the back of Tris’s hands before turning. “Mine too,” he said, as his mouth caught Tris’s mouth, smiling. “They’re the best.”

The sound of Tris’s laugh felt good.

***

Tris didn't
move in,
exactly. Someone like Tris was never going to be caught dead living in a shithole like Jonas' apartment, except that sooner or later it reached a point where an observer might be forgiven for getting confused. Tris was there two days a week, then three; then came the day when Jonas came home from work and realized it had been eight days since Tris had slept in his own bed.

Eight days. Maybe he's mine now, for good.

The thought of it rolled around Jonas' head and it must have shown on his face, because the smile Tris wore for him as he walked in matched his own, he knew: acknowledgment and warmth. When the door closed, Tris launched himself at Jonas, kissing him with such open desperation Jonas felt himself sink like a stone into it: Tris’s mouth was too wet, but he still kissed like the best of them, like he couldn’t get enough of Jonas, like Jonas was all he could ever want. He looped his arms around Jonas’ shoulders, and kept one hand wrapped around the back of Jonas’ neck, his fingers brushing the tuft of hair at the base of Jonas’ skull. 
Jonas squeezed him intermittently at the waist, lifting him off his feet every time Tris tipped his head back and laughed and let him kiss the side of his neck. He was exquisite, Jonas was beginning to realize. He’d been an idiot not to have committed to this. He’d been a coward; they both had, but this was the turning point. He kissed Tris harder. His skin smelled like rain. Like mint. 
 

“What's this?” he murmured, and Tris shrugged, something like a blush creeping up the fine cheekbones.

“I missed you,” he said, and Jonas knew he didn't mean just today, while he was out at work. The words meant so many things, and all Jonas could do was kiss back, like his mouth could say
I know, I know
and
stay.

Tris led him to the bed and sat him down on the edge of it before climbing on top of him and pouring himself into his lap like oil. Jonas slid his arms around Tris’s snug waist, reaching under his jacket to tug his shirt out of his trousers and rest his fingers against his naked skin, and tilted his face up so Tris could lick into his mouth. He groaned when Tris squirmed down against his lap.
“I wanted to ask you to stay weeks ago,” Jonas said, and closed his eyes so the truth didn’t mortify him as much. He let his fingers skim up the indentation of Tris’s spine, and was rewarded with an explosive giggle when he kneaded the tight muscle there, a passing glance of air that stirred the hair on the back of his neck.
Tris was still pressed so close, his mouth moving across the shell of Jonas’ ear. 
“Why didn’t you?” he asked, hooking a finger into Jonas’ collar.
Jonas shrugged, opening his eyes. Obviously Tris knew why. He stared at where Tris’s hand was splayed open against his chest. Tris started rubbing his hand across the soft slippery material of his waistcoat and pretty soon had the other buttons undone. 
“You look nice,” he said thoughtfully, smiling, looking up at Jonas again. 
“Look who’s talking,” snorted Jonas. He tugged at Tris’s sleeve, the shiny material clearly Italian and very expensive. “You look like a present.”
“Well, then,” said Tris. He swallowed, and Jonas didn’t miss the nervous look this time. “Unwrap me.”
“Are you serious?”
Another shrug.
Tris slipped his hands up Jonas’ biceps. He rested them on Jonas’ shoulders, and the sigh he expelled made his entire body seem to loosen. “Come on,” he said. He tilted his head to the side and licked Jonas’ neck. Jonas laughed. He could never say no to him. Not when Tris was looking at him like that, eyes clear with intent. He tugged at Tris’s jacket, helping him ease it off his shoulders. Tris tossed his head back when Jonas hitched up his undershirt, bunching it up to his chest so he could press his face firmly against Tris’s stomach. 
Jonas breathed. The skin there smelled like the remnants of Tris’s cologne, slightly musty and tangy, a mineral warm skin smell. He licked the skin and Tris shuddered, coiling his fingers into Jonas’ shoulders, arching his back in an elegant curve. 
Tris dipped his head to kiss him again, his long fingers folded across Jonas’ face. He started wriggling, bearing his weight down on Jonas, and Jonas took it as a cue to scoot back towards the center of the bed, bringing Tris with him, his hands clutching Tris’s hips. Tris fell on his hands and knees as soon as they were settled and he brushed a feathery light kiss to the corner of Jonas’ mouth, licking the skin with the tip of his tongue.
“Hey,” he said, leaning his weight on his palms, hovering above Jonas.
“Hey gorgeous,” Jonas said, squeezing his ass. 
Tris laughed. Jonas thought Tris was going to swoop down and kiss him again but Tris just fit himself into his arms and pillowed his head on Jonas’ shoulder. Jonas’ arms came around him by instinct, and he turned his head so he could kiss the top of Tris’s head, the rasp of Tris’s curls a familiar comfort against his cheek. He let his fingers run up and down Tris’s spine, and Tris curled into him reflexively, like a cat, shivering, making a small noise of pleasure, a low satisfied purr. 
“I’d have sex with you,” Tris said in a whine. “But I’m too tired right now. I’d rather just sleep.”
“Yeah,” Jonas laughed. He closed his eyes. “I 
know.
” He felt the same way. His dick stirred in interest but he just couldn’t. Not right now. He didn’t want to move, though, unless it was for food. His stomach grumbled, and they both laughed. It could have been embarrassing, but instead it was somehow domestic, and Jonas couldn't stop smiling.  
“I want to,” said Tris, touching his finger to Jonas’ chin. “I really do. But. Well, y’know.”
“Yeah,” said Jonas, laughing again. Tris smiled and kissed him. When he pulled back, his face was soft, and his eyes were half-shut. Nothing, Jonas thought, felt as good as kissing Tris. Nothing could ever come close. Tris brought Jonas’ hand up to his face and kissed his ring. “Tell me what you’d do anyway,” he said.
Jonas scratched his nose. “Well,” he said. “What would you want me to do?”
Tris shrugged which meant Jonas was on his own.
Jonas made a thoughtful noise, pretending to think. He wasn’t like Tris who dreamt up elaborate scenarios; he wasn’t that adventurous. “Maybe I’ll put you over my knee and give you a good spanking,” he said.
“Ooh,” said Tris, looking excited.
Jonas laughed and Tris swatted at him half-heartedly, laughing too. 
“I just want to make you come,” Jonas told him. “Make you feel good.” He traced the shape of Tris’s lips, his finger lingering on the scar on his upper lip. He slipped his finger between Tris’s parted teeth. 
“You do,” said Tris, kissing the tip of his finger. “Make me feel good.” “And come,” he added.
“Always nice to know,” Jonas said. 
Tris laughed, stretching out on top of him. His hips shifted a fraction and Jonas spread his legs so he could rest between them. Tris’s eyes were closed. Neither of them did any talking for a while. Then Jonas said, carefully, “You know what else would be nice to know?”