Personal Assistant.2

Read part 1 here

From the way he waited for me to make the first real move, I reckoned he’d had affairs with employees in the past. In fact, he stayed mostly still while I unbuckled his trousers and slid the zipper down, and merely held onto the edge of his desk when I fished inside of his tight briefs. His cock was nice, about seven inches and cut with a flared head. I’d never seen a straight man with shaved balls, at least one who wasn’t in sex work, so I wondered how he explained it to Mrs. Baker.

Will.5

I'm in the part of this story where I don't really know what a satisfying ending would be. Will's perspective, which in my head cannon is after the events of Declan's story, is already published in "Olive Juice," so we know where they end up. I'm open to suggestions.

If you haven't read the previous parts…that's what the tags are for, baby.

“No offense, but I’m going to be sick.”

My parents were both about to scold me for being snarky when Cassie walked in, probably from show choir or something. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

Mom, Dad, and I almost spoke simultaneously. “Nothing.”

Cassie gave us a funny look, and then got a super annoying smirk. “Is this about Declan’s crush on Will?”

Ha ha! With that I escaped upstairs so that my sister could get the It’s-Unkind-And-Unsafe-To-Out-Someone speech. They even made her come tell me sorry, which was amazing. Cassie was so frickin mad.

One good thing about prom coming up was that no one was looking at me or Will. Surviving the week and prom was the only conversation we had. I tried to invite Will to lunch off-campus, but a group of our friends caught up to us on the way.

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 "I mean, of course you don't have to," I began, but Will saved me the embarrassment of giving him an out by coming back to me.

He sat next to me and clasped his hands. "What do you want me to do?"

Was it not obvious? I wanted a fricking handjob. But Will, I was realizing, was delicate. Not like me. I needed to be as gentle with him as he’d been with me. "Just touch me," I replied, placing my hand on the back of his head. Will responded softly when I kissed him. He let me draw him to me again, and as I sat back Will's leg slipped over mine. It was like it belonged there. Like his little noises, like his cum drying sticky on my stomach, like his hand on my neck.

Personal Assistant.1

 This is part of the Commencement collection—the secondary character in the prom story shows up here as well. I'm giving myself a C grade on this one, even if there are huge gaps that need to be filled. (Living up to the blog title, here).

If you’re going to be the side piece, don’t meet the family.

I can’t even claim that it started innocently. When the temp agency sent me to Envision IT I was doing data entry and scanning old records into the system. Mr. Baker was his own division, something with marketing or sales. He was very friendly with me and touched me a lot, though being a fairly touchy-feely person myself I didn’t mind. It was never inappropriate, just pats on the back or shoulder, or grabbing my arm to get my attention, or thumping my chest when I said something funny. However, he also flirted with me to an extent that I found embarrassingly obvious.

So when Mr. Call-Me-Stuart Baker and I were alone in the office that night, a mere one month after I had been hired on, I was prepared for his proposition.

Will.3

 Read part 2 here.

Will hadn't quite caught up to me yet. Maybe he thought I was going to try and smother him with a couch pillow. He wiped his eyes with one hand, still laughing a little bit, and looked up at me.

I kissed him.

All these feelings came rushing through me too fast to distinguish one from another, and they formed a tight pulsing ball in the center of my chest. Together they sang at me, "What are you doing?"

The kiss was brief, maybe only a second or two longer than that first one. Will giggled when our lips separated. I couldn't watch him smile and not smile back. How could anyone, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and that one dimple appeared, just on the right cheek?

“Was that okay?” I asked quietly. “Can I do it again?”

Back To It

Went on a work trip, then vacation, then had surgery, and now it's typing time. One more episode of Mob Men and then I'm on to the next bit o' nonsense. I'm itching to get some of the shorter works finished and thus the options are:

1. Dreams of a Doormat (what a fuckin' title. Ugh to younger me. Ugh.)
2. Last chapter of the My Neighbor series, which will need a new title because that's the title of every other goddam story. And I think I already said the new collection would be Strange Bedfellows, which isn't great, either—that's gotta be top 10 in the list of I-Write-Porn-But-Look-I'm-Smart titles. I already made a bad ebook cover, though, so what's done is done.
3. The long, single-chapter sequel to Watching Him Back in which Aaron and Crispin are secondary characters.
4. Finally finishing You're Lucky I'm Drunk. This one's tough because I actually like these characters. Neither of them are assholes or dummies, which makes it hard to let the story be a short one.
5. Finishing Will…and letting myself get hammered in the ratings because the main characters never have full-on penetrative sex.

In the meantime, back to posting the bits and bobs of nonsense.

Will.2

It's pretty obvious when this was written by the Nintendo references. Not a gamer, you guys. Read Part 1 here

***

 Dad sat back and picked up his pen again. "Okay," he said like he didn't think I got it at all, "I just want to act like you've been raised right."

I laughed at that, grateful to be excused. "You done good, Pa," I hyucked, jigging out of the room. Dad's sigh followed me into the kitchen, and I tried to erase my memory of the last thirty minutes.

As much as I wanted to pretend like things were all cool, the next day school was just weird. I felt like everyone just knew, somehow, that Will had kissed me yesterday. He could have texted me sorry, but he didn't, and so—even though I knew I shouldn't think this way—a small part of me doubted that he was sorry at all. Maybe he was gay and just felt like he couldn't tell anyone. Or maybe it had been so long since he’d gotten some that everything just kind of spilled out when I stepped forward to close the door after him. There was a spiky cloud over my head. What if Cassie told in spite of her promise? It would get around so fast. I'd never been bullied, but I could imagine that it would suck. Or maybe the gay kids here didn't have to deal with that since no one really cared. Maybe I should corner one of them and ask, just in case.