tagGay MaleNot a Date

Not a Date

byMJRoberts©

ALL CHARACTERS IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS ARE OVER 18.

Characters are fictional.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Copyright © belongs to MJ Roberts, 2014. All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce without permission from the author.

Also, thanks to all the readers who have reached out and become friends. And thanks for all those who have sent compliments, that means a lot.

Enjoy!

MJ


Not A Date


With last week's promotion, Ryan was now my direct boss. This was good and bad.

Good, because, OH YEAH. I mean now I get to stare at him from up close instead of from afar. It was bad because it is not good to lust after your boss. Who knew if he was even gay? He was chief architect in our huge office. (Did I say huge? One can hope. Bad, down boy. Bad.) Within our large firm, he had a huge office with not one hint to his life outside of work. Not one photo of a friend or family, not one decoration that was tell.

I'm the marketing guy. I mostly do copy writing to sell the new building projects, but I do a lot of other stuff. And now, I'm directly under Ryan.

So to speak.

Which is a big deal for someone who is only twenty-six.

However.

Ryan is the kind of cool, crisp, brunette hunk that could put world leaders and GQ models to shame and around him I'm completely tongue tied, which is not like me.

So I've been taking orders and keeping my mouth shut.

Which has gotten me exactly nowhere.

If I did something wrong, anything, I could end up losing my job. Or worse, having to face Ryan every day, maybe for years, eating crow, humble pie, humiliation, eating my Gaydar-ville gone wrong. He's too beautiful to be straight. He's too haunting to be on the wrong team. But still. I'm a chicken and so far I've done nothing.

Now I've been working for Jonowski & Sons for three years. I've seen Ryan in the break room and at the water cooler and at company functions. When you work for someone for that long you feel like you know them, but the truth about your work acquaintances is you don't really know them. (Even though my right hand may or may not have... never mind.) Ryan was a crazy good architect, great dresser, got along with everyone, polite to a fault. Never mentioned a girlfriend but never mentioned a guy either. Never gave me an opening. (So to speak.)

Up until this week I worked in a small cubicle way down the hall. Now I had a big desk in an open space almost directly across from his big glass office. Right in his sightline.

Good and bad.

In other words, oh fuck.

Concentrating on work was a little harder than before.

And I REALLY didn't want my performance to go down. (So to speak.) You could tell a lot about a guy by his performance.

But I don't think I've ever wanted something so much.

Time to grow some.

There's a saying 'do nothing get nothing'.

Which is why I walked in today and said...

"Ryan, I have two tickets to see Winston Marsalis Jazz Orchestra on Friday at the Festival..."

"Wait," he said before I could finish. "Jake," he said. Ryan stood up and held his palm up in the universal sign for stop and I stopped mid-sentence. He walked around me and closed the door to his office. Then he came back and stood in front of me. "Are you asking me out on a date?" His voice went up a lot at the end.

"Nooooo," I said backtracking. A LOT. "No," I said. "I'm doing a report on this concert. For the Armstrong, Malcolm, and Charleston Liberty News," I said. A paper or eZine or blog that I had just made up. "And I have an extra ticket and I could really use someone with an artistic sensibility to go with me and give me their opinion. You know, someone like an artist, or an architect, or a jazz fan, or..."

I struggled to think of something that might say boss, or gay, or be a huge ego stroking compliment but I came up with nothing. "It's not a date," I finished lamely. "I could use an extra pair of ears to sample it, if you're interested. But if you're not..." I turned around toward the door.

"I'm interested..." Ryan said drawing the word out.

My eyebrows shot up.

"Very interested," he said.

"Good," I said trying to sound blasé, "Then it's a non-date."

"Right," he drawled. "How about I pick you up for this non-date?"

Fuck. Did it just get hotter in here? I gulped. "Ah. Yeah. That would be great."

"It's just the two of us, right Jake?" He took one step closer to me, predatory. "Or are you asking any other eyes and ears for other opinions for your ... article?"

"Ah, no," I said, "Just you."

"Then I'll pick you up," he said.

"Okay," I said. "I live at..."

He cut me off. "I know where you live."

Okaaaayyy.

Yowsers.

This is where you turn and run away.

"Right," I said. "I've got work to do," I said. I hustled my ass out of there.

Holy incendiary infernos, Batman! The way he said, 'I know where you live.' He could have singed my hair off!

Good thing I got out of his office before my head exploded. (Or something exploded.)

As bets were pretty good that I wasn't calm, cool, or collected, I made myself scarce as possible until Friday night.

But I couldn't fucking wait.

Ryan rang my doorbell at exactly six o'clock Friday night.

I opened the door and my eyeballs bugged out of my head. He was wearing a $3,000 black tuxedo and carrying a single long-stemmed white rose. He looked gorgeous, scrumptious, movie-star worthy. I looked him over head to toe to head again and blinked. Shook my head back and forth vigorously like a dog.

His eyebrows rose in inquiry when I didn't say anything.

"Perhaps I misread you?" he asked politely.

"Ah-ug. Cah." I said. Then I banged myself hard in the chest. I repeated the motion. "Ca-cough." I gave myself another hard fist to the heart. "Just making sure it's working," I said.

I stepped back and made a sweeping gesture with my hand. "Please come in. I think the concert's been cancelled. We'll have to stay inside. Like FOREVER."

He laughed.

"Starting right now," I said as he walked over the threshold and I shut the door behind him.

He laughed again, a nice warm sound. He handed me the flower.

"I'm underdressed," I said gesturing to my charcoal-colored button down and jeans.

"Or overdressed," he said raising an eyebrow. It was one of those statements where I couldn't tell if he was just kidding or not.

"You look fantastic," I said. "You dress for every non-date like that?"

"When I think it means I might be able to intimidate one of my underlings, absolutely."

We stood there for a second, not sure if we should be awkward or comfortable. Suddenly, with the prospect of having him in my life as a lover, not just a co-worker I saw and drooled over from afar, I wasn't sure if I should be shy, or just go for what I really wanted.

I pulled him close. I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to bury my nose in his neck, but just barely. I came damn close, my face an inch away from his skin. He smelled incredible: musk, and soap, and the faintest hint of some expensive scent and under that, raw power.

Fuck resisting, I nuzzled my face into his neck.

"I've been wanting to do this since the day I had my first interview and I saw you," I whispered.

He backed me up until I was against the wall between the bookcases. "Yeah?" he whispered in my ear, and there was a hint of a low growl in his tone. "What else did you want to do?"

"Everything," I said.

"Tell me," he demanded.

I laughed.

Ryan locked his eyes on me with a look so fierce my mouth went dry. "No, I'm serious, tell me."

The air shimmered, suddenly hotter.

"We won't make the concert if I tell you now," I said. "If I tell you..." I paused and gently rubbed my lips against his, barely touching him. "Oh God," I said. "If I tell you," I said and then closed my eyes. "I'll want to do some of those things right now."

He laughed softly in my ear.

"Well let's wait then," he said and pulled away abruptly. I felt a chill as if something precious was stolen. "We wouldn't want you to miss your information for your report for... Armstrong, Murderlong, Charlesdong..."

"Shut up you," I said playfully.

"I've been wanting too, watching you, silently...telling myself...don't think about, willing myself to stay in check," Ryan whispered. "Wondering, hoping, wishing, wanting, romanticizing, if only, more wondering..."

I think my mouth hung open a little, because I was shell-shocked.

He seemed to shake himself out of it.

"Come on," he said and took my hand.

"Let me put the flower in water," I said.

"Leave it," he said.

I did.

*

The music was amazing. I'm not usually a jazz guy, being more of a classic rock and roll guy myself, but even I could see why these guys were the super famous of the super fame. The weather cooperated and the springtime and open air venue and the light breeze were wonderful but it was Ryan's holding my hand the whole time that made it romantic. Of course it was how he started brushing his thumb over the 'v' of my hand about three quarters of the way through the show that made everything heat up. Holy Bic lighter, did it make everything heat up.

Nobody looked twice at us holding hands or him wearing a gorgeous tux to a casual concert in the park.

But it wouldn't matter if they did, we were in our own world, clear air and the sunset, music wafting over us, and my heart beating faster then it should.

Then when it was nearing the finale he leaned over and spoke right into my ear. He said, "If you've been wanting to hold me for over a year, then it's okay if you don't make me wait any longer before I show you what I can do with my tongue, right?"

My head snapped around to look at him.

"I mean I can do mean things with a cherry stem," he drawled.

I shook my head.

He smiled at me.

We walked the long, long way around the park and the city on the way back to my house. I wasn't hungry for the kind of things you could get in a restaurant so I didn't suggest dinner for our non-date and neither did he. We did less talking then you would think we would have considering how much we were both talkers, it was more like we spent the time drinking each other in.

Ryan held my hand as he walked me to my door. He gave me a wonderful, if somewhat restrained and slightly chaste kiss on my doorstep. Our tongues mingled and there was beauty in it. He hesitated, like he was thinking about work and the world and the consequences and whether or not he should ask himself in.

Fuck that.

I grabbed both his lapels and gave him a huge yank, bringing his chest up against mine. I let go of him only long enough to open my front door and then I yanked him to me again, hard. I grabbed him so hard that we both fell through the threshold, toppled down onto the living room floor. Thank God I sprang for that plush rug last spring. Because we fell hard. Sprang, hard, yum.

"Fuck!" he cursed.

"Yes, let's," I said.

"I don't put out on the first date," he said.

"Me either," I said. "And luckily, this is not a date."

I pushed the door closed with my foot.

I bit his neck. I ran my hands over his chest. "Come on Ryan, help me. Please. Hurry." I pulled his tuxedo jacket off. We kissed. The drugging wonder of it slowed us. We rolled. Him on top, me on top, him on top.

"Mnnnn," I said.

"Yes," he said and there was a growl to his tone. "More." He tugged at my shirt. Ripped it hard, popping some of the buttons. "Get this off."

I pulled it out of my pants and it flung it down next to me faster than an Olympian. Then he was kissing his way down my stomach and I groaned.

"Me first," Ryan said. "I get to suck your cock first," he said.

My eyelids sunk down to half-mast. Yes. Do it.

He had my pants undone and then my cock in his mouth and, God, I knew he'd be like this. Perfect. I grew harder and harder.

"Yeah," I said. "Use your..." but I didn't have to finish the sentence because then he had both his hands in the action. He was using one hand on the lower half of my cock and the other one on my balls. I was going crazy, not only from what he was doing, but from the sight of him, the sight of his head going up and down over my hips, that gorgeous head of brown hair, doing me.

"Wait, Ryan, slower," I cried out. "I don't want to lose it too soon. Shit."

He stopped and smiled up at me. "Loose it as soon as you want Sweet Jake," and then he licked his lips and then gave me a wicked grin. "We'll just do it all over again." Then his lips parted over my cock and he took me into his mouth very slowly and oh, that suction on the way back up and out, oh God, and down again, and following it with his hand, Christ, he knew how to give a blow job. Up and down, he found the perfect punishing rhythm and he brought me right to the edge. I grit my teeth to not embarrass myself and come too soon.

"Ryan," I grit out.

He licked the very top of the head, a delicate little circle around the slit before he answered, "What, Lover?"

"Haa-aaaahhh," I said on a loud exhale trying to catch my breath. "Promise me you'll let me do this to you. Promise me that whatever pleasure you give to me you'll let me try to give at least that much, if not more, pleasure to you?"

"Ah, I don't know, I guess, maybe," he said. Then he squeezed my dick hard and went down on me with a vengeance.

"Yes," I yelled. "Yes, yes, yes!"

And then I couldn't stand it anymore, watching him, knowing it was Ryan; smart, successful, kind, funny, witty, sexy Ryan, and I came.

Ryan drank all of it, ever drop, and lay down beside me. I curled up in a ball.

"I lasted like two seconds," I said.

"Two of the best seconds of my life," Ryan said.

"I feel like I'm seeing stars," I said.

He laughed.

"Shut up, you," I said again. "Just wait for your turn. As soon as I can move again, and the foyer stops moving, you're in biiiiiggg trouble."

The warm sound of his chuckle had me wanting to lick him all over, despite the fact that I was so sated I felt like I could barely move at all.

"Soon," I said. "Soon, when I'm not, you know, boneless, and drowned in my own ecstasy, I am going to..."

"Yessss?" he said.

"As soon as I can move," I said.

"Yeah? You'll what?" Ryan said.

"Kiss your jaw," I said. "Your neck. Your shoulders." My voice got lower. "Work my way down."

He very slowly undid his cuff links and took off his shirt. He kissed my nipples and I got a look at his back.

"Holy shit, that tattoo," I said.

He paused to smile at me. A wicked, wolfish smile.

Ryan had a broader back than I had realized, and more of a tapered waist. And on his back he had the sexiest, most gorgeous tribal tattoo I had ever seen. Dark black lines against his tan gorgeous muscled skin. It spanned from his upper right shoulder across and down, narrowing like curved knives emphasizing the sleek barely restrained power of the muscles. Fuck.

Not would I would have expected.

And sexy as hell.

He went back to kissing my nipples again.

"Oh fuck," I said. "Ryan, stop. I want to put you in my mouth. You've got to stop kissing me like that or I can't."

"No," he said.

"Let me up."

"No."

He nipped my nipple. My back arched up into him.

He kissed his way down my stomach and I got hard again.

He straddled me and took his cummerbund off. Quicker than I thought he'd be able to move he had my wrists tied above my head, the cummerbund turned into makeshift cuffs. Ryan leaned over me until he was purring in my ear. "Too bad I'm not wearing my belt or I'd have something to put around your neck, too."

BAM. Rock hard.

He flipped me over, yanked my pants further down, to the bottom my thighs, and twisted the cummerbund tighter around my wrists.

Suddenly it was hard to breathe.

"Is this what you had in mind when you asked me out?" he growled.

I didn't answer.

He yanked on my wrists.

"Didn't. Have anything. In mind."

He yanked on my wrists again.

"Just you," I said.

He caressed on hand up and down my back, over my ass. I groaned.

"Ryan," I said.

"Beg," he said in the most dominating, forceful voice I'd ever heard.

"Please," I whispered.

I felt lube. Heard a condom snap. Thought I heard him lubing up himself.

The wrists restraints tightened even more.

I pushed my ass toward him but I had to stop myself from doing it too much. "Ryan, fuck me. Please."

It was a lighting fast strike, delicious and powerful. I cried out, but not because it was bad but because it was so good.

He gave me a second, judging.

He let go of my wrists and grabbed me by the shoulder and the hip.

"Yes?" he said.

"Oh, God. Fuck yes."

And that was all he needed and he was pounding into me. It was a steady rhythm, pile-driving at a medium speed that drove me into a daze immediately that had me satisfied and ravenous for more at the same time.

He was making these wonderful grunting sounds and I was so hard I felt like I could break granite with my cock.

"More," I ground out. "I can take it."

My vision completely went, like I was staring into floodlights and just seeing spots. He bore into me with even more power. There was this raw brutality to it. Fierce.

Crackling.

Vicious.

Un-be-fucking-lievable.

As in holy fucking shit.

I pulled my shirt under me because sure as shit I was going to come again.

I wanted us to come together but I wasn't sure I could wait.

I heard someone saying "Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes."

Oh wait. That was me.

He was demanding; pounding faster. There was nothing I could do but take it. Nothing else I wanted to do.

I didn't want to come. I wanted to make it last.

Every muscle in my body spasmed and tightened up. My thighs contracting, my ass squeezing his cock, hard.

"Oh, God, baby, yeah, just like that Jake. Fuck, yeah. That's it. Shit. I can't hold out any..."

I felt him come with a huge burst of power and I came a second later.

Followed by uncontrollable laughter.

Oh. That was me again.

Ryan rolled and then cuddled me to his chest.

"Yuh alright?"

"Nah. Not alright. Beyond alright. Beyond amazing. Shattered my illusions of what was humanly possible to survive good," I said.

"Good," Ryan said. "Bedroom's upstairs?"

"Uh-huh," I said lazily. "But I'm not gonna be able to move for hours. Or like years." I closed my eyes.

Then the world went wonky on me. What?

Ryan was picking me up.

And carrying me up the stairs?

What?

"Ryan, you can't carry me up the stairs," I said.

He gave me an easy jostle, basically tossing me up and down an inch to show me he was a damn lot stronger than anyone thought.

"Let me," he said. "It's good for my masculinity."

"What about my masculinity?"

He stopped halfway up the stairs and kissed me. A tongue searing, brain melting kiss. "Fuck that," he said.

I laughed.

He threw me down on my bed.

"Yeah?" I said with bravado that I didn't have, considering he rocked my world so hard I could still barely move, "Ready for round two?"

"Very funny. Give a guy a minute."

He kneeled on the bed next to me.

"What about now?" I said. "What about now? Okay, now?"

His lids lowered to sexy, wanting half-mast. Even though I knew he knew I was kidding, it was still sexy as hell. He traced one finger down my chest.

Ryan laughed. Apparently he decided two could play at that game.

"Well, what if I tie you down? That will take a few seconds to get set up. Then you'll be ready, right?" he said.

"You're teasing," I said.

"About the timing," he said. Then his voice went lower, "not about the tying down."

He turned me on my side, facing away from him and spooned up next to me, snuggly fitting my ass into his front.

"You feel amazing," I said.

He threw one big arm over me and stroked my hair with his other hand. "We could do this every night if you want."

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