Office Dynamics: M/M Workplace Straight to Gay First Time Romance (7 page)

Jonas followed soon after. Tris bent his knees, dragging him almost painfully all the way inside, and Jonas came with a loud shout, in hot spurts, thrusting erratically to ride out his orgasm. It took him a couple of seconds to come down from his high, and when he pulled out gently, Tris moaned deep in his throat, glancing down his thighs as Jonas let him back on his feet, hands crawling up his sides, his ribs.

Jonas had come inside him, no warning, and Jonas worried for a second Tris was going to tell him off. Jonas slumped against him, pressing his forehead against the wall behind Tris, basking in the afterglow, the warm path of Tris’s hands on his back.

Tris surged up against him, kissing him, trailing his fingers up Jonas’ neck.

Jonas closed his eyes. He opened them and said, “Hi.”

Tris, who smelled like expensive cologne and sex and sweat, tilted his head to one side. “Hi,” he said.

---

Jonas woke up sometime around lunch, feeling tired and pleasantly achy, and hungry as fuck. Sex always gave him an appetite but it wasn’t until the morning after that the hunger hit him like a ton of bricks; he wanted a steak or at least a bleeding cheeseburger with all the works.

He’d forgotten he spent the night at Tris’s place when he bolted upright and blinked around the room. He should’ve known this wasn’t his crummy apartment; the sheets were too soft, the bed too wide, and the pillows smelled clean and minty.

Tris had just finished his shower and was coming in through the door when Jonas picked up a discarded shirt from the wreckage on the carpet. He glanced up. Tris’s hips were swathed in fluffy dark blue towel.

Jonas stared for a moment, at his narrow waist and his long lean body, and he thought:
I had that writhing under me last night
, and blushed. He blushed harder when Tris’s bath towel dropped in a sodden heap on the floor as Tris leaned over the dresser to root for something in the shelf. He turned around as soon as he’d found what he wanted and Jonas saw with a start that it was. Fucking lube.

Oh god, Jonas thought, sucking in a breath. He felt all the blood pool directly to his cock. This shouldn’t even be happening, he thought. They’d just done the dirty deed last night and --

Tris was ambling towards him, and he had a strange look on his face, sort of soft where slats of light between the blinds hit it, like a half-smile Jonas had to strain to make out. And then before Jonas could protest, not that he ever wanted to, Tris was sliding into his lap and pushing Jonas on his back and like a marionette, helpless and weak against Tris’s advances, Jonas flopped down, sinking against the sheets with a sigh.

He wondered if Tris would fire him or demote him or send him on his way to walk the walk of shame after this whole thing was over. So much sex should be physically impossible, but Jonas wanted it, and was hard for it, bucking into Tris’s slippery fist as Tris coated Jonas’ cock with lube, stroking him until he keened.

Tris was still a little loose from last night, and he rocked his hips in agonizingly slow pulls. He gasped and whined and closed his eyes whenever Jonas thrust, moaning like something that should be outlawed. Jonas held onto Tris’s hips, steadying his movements, pistoning in feebly as he felt himself teeter over the edge.

It was always these rich types, Jonas knew, that always had an insatiable appetite for sex. It was the boarding school, probably; they never got over it.

“Are you close?” Tris asked, lifting an eyelid open, bouncing in Jonas’ lap.

Jonas slicked his palm with spit before wrapping it around Tris’s cock. “You’re such a fiend,” Jonas told him, moving his hand in a loose fist until Tris’s cock was hard and wet and Tris smiled, working himself even deeper on Jonas’ cock. He took his sweet time, curving his back, twining his fingers over Jonas’ fist and tugging in measured strokes.

Tris tilted his hips. “I’m no more a fiend than you,” he said during some point, and just before Jonas came he thought: actually, that 
was
 kind of true.

---

Jonas spent a lot of time at Tris’s condo after that.

It just happened all of a sudden, without warning, right after that first morning Tris’s housekeeper, who appeared and disappeared at random intervals and eyed Jonas like she thought he was going to make off with the candelabras, made him the best bacon and eggs in the world.

Jonas sat there that morning, thinking, life couldn’t get better than this, scooping bite after bite of food into his mouth, listening to the faint rustle of Tris’s newspaper unfurling as he checked the business section.

“Enjoying your food?” he’d ask from time to time, not even looking up once. Or, “Would you like more sugar in your coffee, Jonas?”

Jonas would feel embarrassed but utterly pleased, or maybe he was embarrassed because he 
was
utterly pleased, and his answer would always be yes. 
Yes, please, thank you.
 And Tris would smile a little before quickly averting his eyes and clearing his throat.

And when Jonas felt Tris’s foot pressing up against his under the breakfast table, that was nice too, that was good, and later before he left for his apartment, feeling gritty in the clothes he’d worn the night before, socks rolled into balls in the pockets of his jacket, skin smelling like an odd combination of Tris’s cologne and his sweat and his come, that was even better. He grinned his head off on the cab drive home.

Bracing his arms against the wall under hot sprays of water, Jonas smiled to himself and pumped his fist.

He fucking loved this job.

---

And it didn’t stop there.

What started out as the best (if also most unexpected) night and morning after of Jonas life turned out to be an extended period of unpaid overtime, and Jonas liked it because it made him feel good, in an illicit sort of way, going out for coffee runs midday and then tipping into bed with Tris at night, undoing his tie, shrugging him free of his jacket, unbuttoning his starched stiff dress shirt until he was finally unloosened from his suit, pale and shivering and folding those impossibly long limbs around Jonas, with no plans of letting Jonas go until it was dawn again and they were both too exhausted to move, much less roll out of bed for clean up.

Jonas liked it; he liked it a lot.

He liked the elaborate ruses Tris would come up with just to get him to stay after hours, he liked the abrupt almost impersonal kisses in the morning, tasting of burnt coffee and mints, the no-nonsense approach of it all, the way Tris locked the door to his office and closed the blinds and walked him backwards against the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the rushing city below and splayed his hand -- the same hand he often used to tap the corner of his mouth when he was thinking, and sign checks with and beckon interns over -- across Jonas’ belt buckle before curling it over the front of Jonas’ pants, kneading.

“Don’t make a sound now,” he’d purr into Jonas ear, making Jonas jerk up against the glass as his fly was pulled down.

And then Tris would lick his ear, and Jonas would think, in a vague, disconnected sort of way as his head floated high up in the clouds, 
what the hell is even happening
, and then he would cease all thought altogether as Tris’s expert little mouth wrapped around the head of his cock and swallowed sweetly.

Tris always got that look on his face right before Jonas would come, hips twitching underneath Tris’s palm keeping him in place, that serene expectant smile, his eyelids lowered, his mouth curved open to catch tiny spurts of Jonas’ come with his tongue, that Jonas thought was kind of wonderful and hot. 
Wonderfully hot
.

It made him want to kiss Tris again and again, except for the come in his mouth part. But sometime Jonas did, anyway, pulling him shudderingly close until their faces were squashed together.

And everything was all well and good at least until Jonas got come on Tris’s hair or his expensive tailor-made suit or said the wrong thing (“You’re a randy little bastard, aren’t you?”) in the heat of the moment, trying to be sexy, and then Tris got annoyed at him, and the day would be ruined, and Jonas was treated to the cold shoulder until the next morning when all sins were absolved in the wake of new ones to commit.

Jonas tried not to think about the consequences because he had only about a month left in his contract and really, when he thought about it, how else could he possibly fuck up?

He’d already slept with his boss more times than he could count; there wasn’t anything else left to do but let it happen again and again.

Stopping now would be awkward and might even piss Tris off. And Jonas didn’t want that.

What he wanted was late nights at the office, Tris sliding up against him in the empty elevator and tugging him forward by his tie, smirking as Jonas tipped forward into the kiss, hooking his arm around Tris’s waist.

And it was hard to think anyway, with Tris climbing over him every night, pressing him to the bed and rubbing up against him so deliciously Jonas went pliant quickly afterwards, boneless as he fell asleep thinking about the next day when they got to do it all over again.

---

Luke dragged him aside in the middle of his end-of-the-month barbecue to inquire about the expensive watch Jonas suddenly started wearing.

It was Tris’s watch, actually, a louche, gorgeous gold one dating from the 1950s that Jonas had picked up -- by accident, mistaking it for his sixty dollar one -- from the dresser as he was putting his clothes back on.

Jonas was going to give it back the next day but then Tris waved him off and said he should keep it for a while as he was getting a new one soon, anyway.

Besides, Tris said, it suited Jonas better. “It makes you look suave,” he’d said, pointing to his phone, which he had dropped on the floor sometime last night, so that Jonas could hand it over.

Jonas, who always had trouble saying no to people, especially people in positions of power, put up no protest though he took the watch off as soon as he clocked out; it only seemed fitting as he stopped worrying about the time then.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice,” Luke said, raising an eyebrow. “I know whose watch that is.”

Jonas shrugged, feigning indifference. He thought it complemented his jeans so he wore the watch to the barbecue. He shouldn’t have; that was an idiot move.

“Are you fucking my boss?” said Luke.

Jonas choked on his beer. “What?”

“I asked you a simple question. Are you 
fucking
 my boss?”

“Luke,” Jonas said, sighing and shaking his head. He held out his hands. “It’s just a watch. Stop making conjectures.”

Luke laughed. He started counting off his fingers. “You work late nights, you’ve stopped coming to dinner every Friday, and you smell different.”

“Different? How?”

“Like you’ve fallen into a vat of sleazy cologne.”

Jonas actually laughed. “I’m not sleeping with Tris,” he said, rolling his eyes. Even if it were true, Luke was being ridiculous.

Luke cocked his head to the side. “Tris?”

Shit.

“I paid for your education, Jonas,” Luke said, crossing his arms. “I don't give a shit if you're going through a gay phase, so don't start off down the
homophobia
front, or anything like that. Fuck guys, fuck girls, I don't care. But the least you could do is not stick your dirty dick in the one guy signing my paycheck.”

“Luke,” Jonas said but Luke held up a hand and continued without pause, “Fuck, his dad just died, 
Jonas
. Do you know how devastating that is? No, of course you don’t, you’ve never lost a parent before. Fuck Terrence from Accounting, I don’t care. You’re going to get us both fired if you don’t stop what you’re doing.”

Jonas snorted at him. “Dirty? 
Really?
 And his name is Terry.” Ridiculous, Jonas thought.

“Short for Terrence. Look, I like my dental plan,” Luke said. “My teeth are my number one asset. If I lose this job, I lose my house, I lose my car, I lose my dental plan. Do you get where I’m going?”

“You really like your teeth?”

Luke frowned at him. “He’s your boss,” he said in a quieter voice. “Do you honestly see this working out?”

“Actually,” Jonas said, and then stopped short. He didn’t. He never really thought about it before. Fuck.

Luke patted him on the shoulder, as if he could read Jonas’ thoughts. “Fix this,” he said. “And stop accepting expensive gifts or he’ll think you’re easily bought.”

“I’m not,” Jonas told Luke. He wasn’t.

“I know.” Luke smiled in sympathy, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re just, I guess, very gullible.”

Sometimes, Jonas hated that Luke knew him very well.

---

“I want to know,” Jonas said slowly after Tris returned to bed, towel-drying his hair. “What we’re doing exactly.”

Tris blinked at him, narrowing his eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t understand the question.”

Jonas sighed and grabbed the towel from him, pulling Tris between his legs to pat his head dry. Tris had nice shoulders, freckled in places Jonas loved running his tongue over. Tris loved it when Jonas did that before Jonas fucked him, tracing the path of his spine with his mouth before parting his lean thighs.