34Jinny: I had one hell of a time writing this. I did it when I was sick and really just couldn't get into it. But it came out just fine, focusing for now only on Eric and Dylan and their "work day," if that's even what you can call it.
Enjoy!
Chapter One: Rain
Part II: Seattle: Blossoming Romance
Dylan slowly got out of bed, not really wanting to do what he knew he was going to. As much as he was afraid to face Eric, he knew that was exactly what he intended to do. He'd get fired as soon as he got to work, there was no doubt about that in his mind. But there was that slight flicker of hope that Eric might forgive him and let him keep his job.
Yeah, right.
The black-haired boy grabbed some Dickies dress pants, a punk-style, white button-down dress shirt, and a sport's jacket, and threw them onto his bed. After that was accomplished, he went to the shower room of his Irish-side-of-Seattle apartment, which was pretty much just a corner of the room with a drain and a shower curtain.
Quickly, he cleaned himself up as best he could, dried off and got dressed. Glancing over at the clock, Dylan saw that it was now almost 3:00; two hours before shift let off. The twenty-three-year-old hurried and put some hair glue into his hair, hoping that it would spike alright, and ran out of the door.
Right now, Dylan couldn't even afford payments for a car because all of his money was being used to pay off the student loan he had taken to pay for the college that he dropped out of. Once that was paid for every month, the boy barely had enough money left to pay for his rent and to buy food.
So the boy practically ran to work, which was about six blocks away, and not hard to get to once you got out of the slums. He was about five minutes away when it started to rain softly, which wasn't anything unusual, because there is hardly ever a time in Seattle when it is not raining.
When finally the boy got to Eric's forty-storey office building, he was soaked, a thing that happened to him four out of seven times a week. He wasn't at all surprised at the shocked and disapproving looks he got from associates, potential business partners, workers, etc. It was all a part of his well-known, hated routine. He had always fantasized about Eric chasing all of those demons away.
Dylan got into an elevator, trying to squeeze past the mass of people without actually touching them and getting them wet. Finally he got himself backed into a corner of the elevator.
Feeling someone's hand on his shoulder, the boy jumped slightly, and turned to see who it was. He nearly had a heart-attack when he saw Eric grinning at him.
"You're always wet," the man commented, brushing some of the boy's hair away from in front of his eyes. "One of these days, you're going to get sick."
Dylan blushed at the attentions of his boss and murmured something about not caring, his face turned away in a failed attempt to stop Eric from seeing the pink color of his cheeks. The man just chuckled.
"And your hair is STILL standing up," Eric continued. Dylan smiled slightly.
The door dinged and slid open, revealing the first stop, which was on the fourth floor.
"C'mon," Eric said slowly, walking through the mass of people in the elevator, all of whom moved off to the side to let him through. The man stopped at the doors and held them open. "Dylan."
"But this is only the fourth floor. Isn't your office on the 25th?"
"Yes, but we're stopping here. Come."
Dylan tried to maneuver his way through the crowd, but kept bumping into people because no one would move for him. He kept hearing little condescending comments like "fag," as he passed.
"Will you people move!" Eric barked, glaring into the elevator. "I don't have time for you to discuss my assistant's sexuality at the moment, if you don't mind. He has work to do. I have even more. And you all better find something to do within the next two minutes if you expect to keep a job."
The crowd parted and Dylan squeezed his way through, stepped out of the doors virtually unscathed, his head down and eyes on the floor.
The doors slid shut and the elevator started to move again. Eric put his hand on Dylan's shoulder and steered the boy away from the doors, cursing about the time they wasted standing there.
"Dylan," the man said after a minute of tense silence.
Blue eyes looked up to meet Eric's, and the man let out a sigh. "Are you going to fire me?"
"Lord no," Eric replied.
"Then why are we here?"
"Just because."
Eric led the boy into a random person's office and took some strange-looking papers from the man at the desk. With a nod, Eric turned away from the man, put his hand back on Dylan's shoulder, and led him out of the office and back to the elevator.
"What was that about?" Dylan asked once they were inside of the elevator.
"Statistics Reports," Eric answered, showing the boy a series of graphs and charts that marked the business's progress accordingly.
"Oh, and here I thought you were doing something illegal." Dylan grinned sheepishly, and it faded quickly. Pretty much everyone was either staring at him or muttering obscene things under his or her breath. The boy growled, only attracting more looks. "STOP LOOKING AT ME!" he screamed, taking everyone, including Eric, by surprise.
"Dylan!" Eric hissed, laughing. "Calm down."
Nothing changed the entire time while they traveled twenty-one floors up to Eric's office. The black-haired boy was extremely tempted to start screaming again, but kept his mouth shut and swallowed his pride. He knew why everyone was looking at him.
Someone had spread a rumor about how Dylan had slept with one of the men Eric had recently fired, which wasn't exactly untrue. And now every time he was out of his boss's office, everyone stared at him like he was the most disgusting thing on the earth.
So he wasn't exactly pure and untainted, so what? It wasn't like any of them had never slept with or thought of sleeping with their associates or coworkers.
Once Dylan and Eric reached the twenty-fifth floor, Dylan practically ran out of the elevator with his boss trailing behind, watching him. Eric's eyes traveled down the length of his assistant's body and back up again, trying to take in the beauty of it with out lingering there for too long. He didn't want to get caught looking.
Reaching out for the doorknob, the black-haired boy tried to turn it, only to find it locked. Eric chucked. "That's part of the reason I made you come with me. You wouldn't have been able to get in, and I wasn't about to give you my keys."
Dylan looked back and gave a sheepish smile.
Eric unlocked the door and watched the younger male bolt inside and look around. The papers he had been working on the night before had been cleared off of the desk, and the space where he usually sat was empty.
"Eric?" the boy asked, his voice slightly high in pitch.
"Hmm?" the man asked, seeing his assistant look at him with frightened eyes. "What?"
Getting no response other than Dylan staring at him, Eric shrugged his shoulders, unsure of what was bothering the boy, and went to sit down at his desk.
"Come and sit," Eric ordered. "I think we have a lot to talk about."
Dylan reluctantly did as he was told. He watched as Eric opened his mouth to speak, and cut him off before he could do so. "I'm sorry," the boy mumbled, not even looking at the man. He wasn't even sure if he was really sorry or not.
Eric shook his head. "That's not what I meant and you know it. I didn't mean for you to apologize. I just wanna know what's been up with you lately. You're not as happy, and you keep throwing these weird signals at me. Up until yesterday, I had no idea what in the hell you were getting at. And then it was all too painfully clear."
Dylan's lip trembled and his eyes filled with tears. "I didn't mean to say it like that!" he said before he could stop himself. "Yeah, I like you. A lot. And I don't understand why because you're really not in my age group (no offense) and definitely not my type, but . . . I've liked you pretty much from the day I started working for you two years ago."
"And here I thought you were just overly friendly," Eric said slowly, watching the boy as he curled his legs up to his chest and hid his face. The older man didn't understand how he could fit his whole body into such a small chair. "Dylan, look. You know my answer, so there's really no need for me to explain that I'm married and so on."
The man reached out and touched the boy's cheek. "C'mon, we've really got to get you out of those clothes before you really do get sick. I'll drive you to your apartment."
"I can walk," Dylan said through sobs.
"Not in the rain."
"It's always raining."
Eric raised an eyebrow. "So I've noticed." He sighed. "What would you have me do, Dylan? I don't know how to respond to this."
Dylan looked up, a slight blush covering his cheeks. "Kiss me," he said.
"No."
"Just once," Dylan pressed. "One kiss and we can forget that this ever took place. I won't bug you about it anymore. I'll just be a good little assistant and I'll find myself a boyfriend and we can forget about all of this."
Eric studied Dylan, as if measuring the proposal. "You've liked me for two years, and you expect a kiss not to elevate that?"
"The only reason I've liked you for so long is because I held on to this absurd hope that you'd like me back. And now I know that you don't, and you never will. I just want a kiss, Eric. Please."
"Dylan, no."
"Please, Eric." Dylan put his legs down and scooted closer to Eric. "Please."
"No." Eric stood up and grabbed his jacket. "Come on, I'm driving you home and you're going to change your clothes."
"And then what?" Dylan asked, his tear-filled eyes following Eric as he walked through his office.
"And then you get your ass back here and finish those papers." Eric walked back, grabbed Dylan's arm in a light embrace, and hauled him through the office building and into his car.
The drive was silent, so Eric turned on the radio, which was playing on one of the stations his son Ron liked. It was something like Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Greenday. The tone of the music only seemed to make the situation even more depressing.
"What a happy song," Eric muttered, hearing Dylan let out a small giggle.
"I think it's a pretty song," the boy replied. He started to sing along with it.
"Pretty . . ." Eric snorted. "I don't know how I ever missed that you were gay."
"I'm bi!" Dylan said matter-of-factly. "Love is love."
Eric rolled his eyes, pulling to a stop in front of the poor-quality apartment building complex. "Here's a new thing you can work on," the man said. "Find a decent apartment to live in."
Dylan looked over with fake enthusiasm. "I'll get right on that."
"Don't be an ass," the older man growled, shutting off the engine.
"You coming with me?"
"I'm kind of curious to see if this place looks as bad on the inside."
"Worse."
"Hmm?"
"It looks worse on the inside," Dylan said. "And I'm a clean-freak."
"Really?" Eric asked, sounding surprised. He pictured Dylan as a bit of a messy kid, like Ron.
"Only in my own place," the boy replied with a smile.
The duo got out of the car and entered the building, taking the elevator up to the thirteenth floor and entering into a decrepit little room that Eric could only assume was kept as clean as could be by Dylan.
Eric looked around at the apartment, seeing that it was pretty much one-roomed and not at all appealing. He scrunched up his nose in disgust, hearing Dylan laugh.
"Hey, it's the best I can afford." The boy grinned. "And it's not really all that bad. At least it's disinfected."
Eric laughed. "Sure."
Dylan grabbed another pair of dress pants and a button-down dress shirt and threw them onto his bed. Without so much as a warning, he started stripping off his sport's jacket, singing to himself. Eric only rolled his eyes, not realizing that he was practically devouring the boy with his eyes.
"I used to think that I was strong, until the day it all went wrong. I think I need a miracle to make it through, yeah. I wish that I bring you back. I wish that I could turn back time, cause I can't let go; I just can't find my way, yeah. Without you, I just can't find my way. In a perfect world, this could never happen. In a perfect world, you'd still be here. And it makes no sense, if I could just pick up the pieces . . . but to you this means nothing, nothing at all."
Something by Simple Plan, if Eric remembered right. But he also recalled Ron saying Dylan didn't like that band. Still, he said nothing, just watching the boy's near-naked frame as he moved around him to get a pair of socks and boxers.
"Eric? Why are you staring at me?" the youth asked, his face flaming red.
"Sorry," the man replied simply, offering a half-smile. "Didn't realize I was."
"Really?" Dylan asked sarcastically. He approached Eric slowly, looking the man in the eyes. "I don't think that's entirely true."
"Don't flatter yourself," Eric said, subconsciously running a finger down the boy's chest, making his shudder. "Shit!" the man cursed, pulling back from the boy. "Stop that!"
"ME? I didn't do anything!" Dylan said, looking insulted. "Turn around."
Eric did as he was told, finding himself staring at the top of Dylan's dresser. A pair of black-framed glasses lay on top. They were the punky kind that kids wore these days. Ron had wanted a pair.
"Never knew you wore glasses," Eric thought aloud, picking the spectacles up and remembering the day before when Ron told him about the dorky girl and how he knocked her glasses off by accident.
"Eric . . . There're a lot of things you don't know about me." Dylan said simply, pulling the Dickies dress pants up over his white and blue boxers.
Eric glanced over his shoulder at the boy. "Like how you fucked one of my employees in the mail room?"
"I didn't fuck HIM," Dylan corrected. "He fucked me."
Eric turned around and crossed his arms, glaring at the boy.
"What? Why should you care?"
"It was in my office building!"
Dylan sighed and sat down on the bed. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid thing to do, and if it makes you feel any better, I regret doing it."
The boy pouted cutely out of habit, well aware that even if Eric did notice, it wasn't like he was going to respond.
"Dylan . . . I don't understand you."
"Most people don't. Mind handing me those glasses?"
Eric did as he was asked, and the boy put them on. The older male couldn't suppress a grin when he saw how absolutely innocent the boy looked with them on.
"I know. I'm adorable, right?" Dylan smiled. "That's why I avoid wearing them."
Eric let out a little laugh. "Hurry up, already."
The boy reached for his shoes.
"Ah, ah, ah. You even THINK of wearing those, and I'm going to beat you."
"Really?" Dylan asked, a hint of a smile on his facial features as he picked up the shoes and prepared to slip them onto his feet.
"You little brat!"
"Oh, darn. And here I thought you might spank me."
Eric's mouth dropped. "Dylan!"
The boy laughed lightly and got up to put on his shirt, turning his back to Eric for a moment. The older man only grinned, thinking of how amusing it would be if he actually did smack the boy in the ass for disobeying him. Certainly would shock the hell out of Dylan.
And it did. Eric raised his hand ever so slightly so Dylan wouldn't notice, took a nice swing, and landed his hand on the boy's tight, firm ass. The boy yelped and jumped, spinning around to face Eric while the shirt he was going to put on fell to the floor.
"You scared the fuck out of me!" the boy yelped, glaring at the man while one hand went behind him to massage his injured ass.
"You asked for it."
"Eric. . ."
"What?"
"Kiss me." Dylan leaned closer to his boss, his hands resting on the man's chest.
"I can't." Eric tried to push the boy back, holding him by his arms.
The black-haired boy whined and started to cry yet again, his frustration getting the best of him. But then he took Eric by surprise when he jerked out of his grip, grabbed his shirt, and pressed his lips firmly against the older man's.
As bad as Eric felt, he had to push the boy back. So he took Dylan by the shoulders and pressed him backward. "Dylan, no," he whispered, barely able to look into the frightened, tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry."
Dylan tried to jerk back again, but Eric held him fast, unwilling to let him go again. "LET GO!" the boy sobbed. He pulled his body back hard and let his weight drag him down. Eric could barely hold on, so he let the boy down softly on his mattress and stood above him.
The black-haired boy sat up and took Eric's wrists into his hands, trying to pull him down. The man merely sat down beside him, not expecting to get jumped on when he did. Dylan was on his lap, straddling him before he even had a clue as to what was happening. The boy was pressed up against him so hard that Eric felt his breath catch.
"Just a kiss," the boy said softly, breathlessly.
Eric knew it was wrong, but he allowed his head to dip down and his lips to mesh ever so gently with the youth's. It stayed like that for a long time, and Eric realized that Dylan's whole body had relaxed in his embrace. He pulled back and looked at the boy, who still sat on his lap, shirtless.
Dylan leaned forward and rested his head on Eric's shoulder, his eyes closing for the moment as he wrapped his arms around the man. Not knowing what to do, Eric wrapped his arms around his son's best friend, already regretting what he had done.
But when he heard the boy weeping, he couldn't help but feel sorry for him. "Don't cry," he whispered, his hand rubbing the boy's bare back.
"I love you."
Eric jolted and grabbed Dylan by the shoulders, moving him so that he could look him in the eyes. "What did you say?"
"I love you."
"Damnit," was all Eric could manage.
"I'm not asking you to have a real relationship with me, you know," Dylan said softly, his hands trailing up Eric's chest. "You said your wife doesn't give you any attention. I could fill that spot; I'd give you anything you want."
Eric held his breath as he felt Dylan's body grind against him. His hand went to the boy's hip and held it hard, half directing the boy to go faster.
"Eric," Dylan moaned.
And Eric lost what little self-control he had left.
The next thing Dylan knew, he was pinned to his mattress with Eric hovering over him, the older man's hips pressed firmly against his. Eric's hand was in his shirt, and caressing the skin as his mouth pressed against the boy's. The man practically forced his tongue into Dylan's mouth, tasting something sweet like sugar.
The boy didn't even try to fight for dominance, wanting Eric to be in complete control over what happened to his body. But the man pulled back after the kiss, and stared at Dylan.
"So . . . there's your kiss," he said breathlessly.
"Yeah," Dylan replied, stunned. "That's one hell of a kiss."
Eric laughed. He reached up and brushed that same irksome strand of hair out of Dylan's eyes, causing the boy to laugh too.
"That just drives you mad, doesn't it?" he cooed.
"Like you wouldn't believe." Eric sat up. "Now get dressed. We have work to do."
"When don't we?" Dylan groaned, grabbing his shirt from the floor and slipping it on. "So where did that come from anyway? I thought you were the pinnacle of holiness and self-control."
"The way you moaned my name, I guess," Eric replied.
"Oh, really? So if I just moan your name all sexy-like . . ." Dylan was right beside Eric, his body practically pressed into the man's.
"Don't even think about it." Eric looked over, seeing into the boy's shirt. He reached a hand and pushed the cloth away, revealing a pale pink nipple that he traced with his thumb, causing the boy to cry out. Eric chuckled. "You are just so easy to please."
The older male leaned forward and let his tongue dart out of his mouth, tasting the spicy, masculine flesh. He felt Dylan's hands in his hair as he started to suck on it. Reaching a hand behind the boy, he squeezed his ass and cupped it, causing the boy to cry out and moan even more.
When Eric pulled back he had to smile at the disheveled appearance of his employee. The boy's face was such a sweet pink color, as was part of his chest. "Undo your pants," the man ordered, seeing the shock on the boy's features.
Doing as he was told, Dylan undid his pants, and waited for what would happen next. He expected that Eric was going to fuck him, though he wasn't sure. He felt like he was dreaming again.
Eric merely pulled the boy over to sit on his lap, his fingers lacing around the smaller boy's member and stroking it slowly, making the little one squirm and writhe in his grasp, half-cursing, half-begging.
But the man just did his work, practically making the boy cry from frustration, and ultimately just lovingly it when he heard the boy cry his name so desperately.
"Is this what you picture me doing when you do this yourself?" Eric whispered into Dylan's ear, hearing the boy moan his name. "And when you cum, you cry out my name in desperation and hope?"
"Yes," Dylan whispered breathlessly, feeling himself close to climax. "God, Eric."
He felt so hot, hotter than he had felt when he had been with any other guy. All those times it had been quick and he had been left with a warm buzzing sensation, but right now, he was unbearably hot, and couldn't take the heat.
White overtook his vision, and he felt the muscles in his stomach clench tightly together as fluid came forth from him and onto Eric's hand.
For a minute he sat there, panting. "Am I dreaming?"
"No," Eric replied simply. He stared at his hand, wondering what the hell he had just done.
"I think I'm better now," Dylan said.
"Hmmm?"
"I won't have to try to jump on you every time I see you now."
Eric kissed his assistant on the cheek. "I'm not so sure that was the right thing to do."
Dylan stood up and grabbed some tissues off a nearby stand and grabbed a few before handing the box to Eric. He cleaned himself up and threw the tissues away, and then fixed his pants and buttoned his shirt.
"Probably not," he said, taking a seat next to Eric. The boy's cheeks were burning and he felt dazed.
Eric kissed his cheek again and stood up. "Just make sure that I don't find out about you sleeping with any other guys. I just might get a little jealous."
"Is that why you fired the guy from the mail room?"
"No."
"Yes it is. Because otherwise you would have had to have fired me too, right?"
Eric shrugged. "We've gotta get back. C'mon."
Jin: Hope this was alright. Review and tell me what you think and if I should continue this or not!