The meeting was hell. Meant for marketing folks, a tech like me had no business being in the room. I wasn't expected to answer any questions, make a presentation, or explain my ideas. I was a body, a presence only to show the client they had our support.
Near to unbearably warm, the room had been freezing when the meeting started. The suit I'd been requested to wear chaffed, uncomfortable and stifling, I longed to at least loosen my tie. And still, the voices droned on. The company president could bite me; the division chief could kiss my ass. Neither knew what they were talking about; parroting words heard in the IT environment. What should have been a fifteen minute demonstration turned into a two hour dog and pony show. Now all we needed was the clown. I think Trowa was busy, though.
I allowed my attention to wander from the slide presentation. Not that the meeting ever held my attention in the first place. Midway down the conference table he sat. I guess he could be called my boss, but that isn't quite right. He was the IT lead on the project though, and by rights, it was his baby. I was only here because he insisted. As the lead analyst, I was supposed to project stability and confidence in our product by attending these meetings. I didn't come because the project needed me. I wasn't here for the company. He was the only reason. He'd asked me to be there to support him. And he smiled when he asked.
The man drew me. I can't describe it any other way. I've known him for years, but outside a few minor job related battles, we'd never worked on a project together. This past year had been the best, and the worst, time of my life. I got to know the man more, see how he worked, planning and executing each stage of the project. He was something to watch. He was also hell on my libido. Many days I wanted nothing more than to test how sturdy my cube wall was made.
Take now, for instance. His entire focus wasn't on the division head yakking his spiel, but on the potential buyers. He watched their reactions to what was being said, made notes on the pad in front of him as to who would be the decision maker, who would have the knowledge behind what we're selling, and who he would coordinate with to make the fit work. There. He licked his lips again. Damn him. Oh, sure, he wasn't doing it on purpose, but you never knew.
A question had been asked, and his head shot up. He frowned slightly, and his eyes scanned the room, seeking someone. They slid past me, and he jerked his chin to the tech assistant sitting behind me. His eyes fastened on me, then, and his lips twitched in his version of a smile. I dipped my head in return, giving him the Duo Maxwell special. He would have snorted if he hadn't been sitting in the middle of all those clients.
I straightened up a moment later, for he rose from his seat. It was his turn to speak. As he started to walk through the technical details, the tech assist returned with a stack of handouts. I kicked back to really watch the man work. No one would ever know it to look at him, but at one time, he'd been the most feared man on the planet. That's quite a feat considering he was a boy at the time. No more spandex for this kid. Though his suit fit him well, his pants hugged where they were supposed to, his jacket cut special - mostly to fit those exceptionally broad shoulders.
Though I could listen to the man talk all day, I ignored his words and just watched his mouth. What he had to say wasn't for me, but them. His mouth though, I sat imagining what that mouth could do, as I had in many other meetings just like this. Where I'd love to feel that mouth, how I'd love to taste it, devour it. It was a special game of mine to come up how many ways I could fantasize about his mouth.
Don't get me started about his hair... the man's hair screamed - just been fucked tousled look. Some days when the sun shone just right, my jeans grew tighter just looking at it.
I must have been really lost in my fantasy for when the lights went to full power, I nearly yelped in surprise. Bodies were rising, talk broke out around the room, several hands were being shook. He had his back to me, bent over the table showing the one I believe he'd marked as the most knowledgeable. The marketing guys were leading most of the others out of the room, to the other conference room, they said. Which was the excuse used to spend the rest of the day in a restaurant lounge, drinking profits away, and making promises impossible to deliver.
When the room had cleared but for three of us, I loaded the last of the presentation material into a box and handed it off to the tech assist, sending him on his way. While the other man gathered his notes, I unhooked the borrowed audio/visual equipment, getting it ready to wheel back to its closet. "You did well, today. I think we'll make the sale."
He looked up and smiled, a real one and not those faint ones he passes off as a smile. "You think so, Duo? I'm not so sure about that Casteel guy. He's the one who'll have to be convinced." He'd joined me at the back of the room, dropping his carry case on the cart. "Thanks for your help, and for showing up."
"Any time," I replied, already loosening my tie. "You can pay me back later." He started wheeling the cart from the room, and I trailed along. Not that he needed my help, but I couldn't resist the view.
The storage closet was tucked away at the long end of an infrequently used hallway. Near the lunch hour, that section of the building had a Saturday afternoon appearance, just enough noise to let you know someone was there, but not enough to pinpoint just where they were. He spoke as we walked, me trotting behind his ...behind, and I couldn't help but think of those unfilled fantasies I'd been having. My concentration so attuned to his backside, I ran right into it when he stopped at the door. He only gave me a strange look as I apologized.
Following him inside, I leaned against the door, effectively closing and locking it. He hadn't noticed; too busy putting everything back where he'd pick the equipment up from. He'd offered me lunch, and I planned to feast.
"Take off your clothes," I demanded not so loud as to be overheard, but forceful enough he knew I meant it.
Bent over a shelf, he froze for a moment. Straightening, my dream come true gave me a "are you delusional" look, and asked, "What?"
I crossed my arms over my chest, and grinned. "Yeah, you heard me. Take off your clothes."
"Duo, I don't ..."
"I'm not asking." I reached for my belt buckle. "Now, Yuy."
He watched me slide my belt from my pants, pull off my tie, and remove my jacket. Almost casually, as though he'd done this all the time, he slowly removed his clothes, his eyes locked to mine the entire time. Nude, he stood before me, unselfconscious, almost regal. A quick flick of his brows in challenge. Striding forward, I kicked off my shoes, ripped the shirt from my body and tossed it. I had my pants undone by the time I'd reached him, and he took over, his hands batting mine away. One of my hands with to his hair, pulling him forward, giving him a taste of what I fantasized about. My other hand gripped a cheek, holding him steady as I rocked into him.
Our mouths locked, tongues collided, fought, and surrendered to one another. His hands stroked me through my briefs, and I thrust into them. Already hard, my cock strained against the fabric. He released it, freeing it from its cloth prison. What I hadn't expected was for him to break the kiss, drop to his knees and envelop me.
My cry should have been heard back to the conference room.
I still had his hair fisted in one hand, and the other joined it, guiding his head as he mouthed my cock. Since when did he know of fantasy four-seven, anyway. His hands clutched the backs of my thighs, pulling and pushing with his rhythm. With the suction he had going on, I knew I wasn't going to last long, and that's not how I wanted to spend my load.
"Stand up," I commanded roughly, harshly, pulling on his hair.
He rose, wiping saliva with the back of his hand. I grabbed it, stopping it from finishing the job, and ran my tongue up his chin, following the path of his spittle. Our mouths met once more, urgent and bruising, his need as great as mine.
Panting harshly, I pushed him away. "Turn around," I demanded. He obeyed immediately, his hands going to the shelf to brace himself, his legs already spreading. "Fuck.." I could only gasp. He was beautiful. Running my hands down his back and over his ass, I almost came just thinking about it. "It's going to be fast and rough. You okay with that?" I was already reaching for the tube in my pocket.
"Yes, just do it, damn you," his voice was strained. He was mine.
No time to prep, I spread a generous amount on the head of my cock, and ran a darting finger up the crack of his ass. Time to get this party started. I tried to show restraint, taking it slow, but God I'd wanted it for so long. My deep plunge took him by surprise, and left us both gasping. Whispering soft words on his back, my hands sought purchasing on his hips. I wanted this feeling to last, this completeness from being inside him. The sudden euphoria transcending into desperate urgent desire. I drew out my cock, eliciting a long moan, and thrust back quickly, holding his hips tightly.
As I found the rhythm, he joined me, pressing backward with the in-thrust, griping the shelf when I pulled out. Soon it became the mingled sounds of our breathing, the soft slap of flesh meeting flesh, and the gentle knock of the shelves beating against the wall. The pooling, thickening sensation threatened. I was about to come. The rhythm stumbled briefly as I fumbled for his cock, wanting him to share in my fantasy. His cock pulsed, swollen and thick in my hand. Fisting it, I timed my strokes with each thrust, giving the head a little squeeze, and back. Thrust, stroke, and squeeze. He was murmuring in a low unsteady voice, the last prayer of a dying man.
Feeling the muscles clench around my cock, I held him still with one hand, and continued to pump with the other, sliding my palm up to cover the head as I felt the come rise. Even before he'd finished spasming, I resumed my thrusts, slower, more gentle, keeping pace with his release. I was close, but wanted to draw this particular fantasy out as long as I could. It was his cry that did me in. One last jerk, he collapsed into the shelves, arching his back, and clenching all muscles waist down.
"Oh, fuck," I managed, my eyes threatened to close, my vision greying along the edges. Even as I finished, my arms circled his waist, wrapping him in a tight embrace. I lay on him, my legs like rubber, held no strength. "Fuck, Yuy." I planted a kiss to his sweaty back, rubbed a cheek along his spine.
"You just couldn't wait until we got home, could you?" he asked in very Heeroish amusement. I didn't bother to answer, he knew me too well. "So, how many more of these do you have?" He was already standing, turning in my embrace.
Putting that mouth to good work, I sucked on his lips, pulling on the lower on with my teeth. Releasing it, I answered, "Last count there were one hundred fourteen. We've done," I did a quick estimate. "Thirty-seven." His eyes closed and he shook his head. "Although, I might have come up with a new one today."
"That's it. No more meetings for you." He gave me a kiss, and pushed me away. Reaching for his clothes, he offered, "At least until we've completed sixty-five percent of all the scenarios." His lips twitched in that Yuy smile.
I only nodded as I pulled my shirt on, tucked my cock back into my pants, and got ready for the day to continue. Now, if only I could convince him fabric and cheap steel would hold us up, we could knock out fantasy ten and eighty-three. And if I played my cards right, one hundred two might be an extra bonus. He frowned at my smile. I wiggled my brows, and gave him my Duo Maxwell special. This time he did snort loudly.
Oh yeah, the man drew me, but I owned him.