Office Confrontations Ch. 02

[I'm just finishing up chapter three, so expect a new chapter soon! As always, I love feedback of any kind! I know it's a short chapter, but the next one will be longer. Also, I'd like to thank triple22 for editing! Edit:: I'd just like to apologize to everyone, I had no idea until a few days ago that there was a problem with random bolded paragraphs. Hopefully this fixes things!]

*

It took Marshall a full ten minutes to coax his erection back down to a concealable state, and by the time he reached Aaron standing at his desk, his sour mood had skyrocketed―but so had his nervousness. In a few days he'd have to work one-on-one with Kyle, and he was terrified―of his own reaction, of how Kyle would act...

When Marshall's eyes discretely glanced over toward Kyle's cubicle, he saw the man with his shoulders slightly hunched, head down, his hands pecking away at the keys. Damn Kyle for going back to a bumbling, antisocial freak. Nothing about his posture said he'd just dry-humped Marshall in the coffee room. On the contrary, he looked like a twenty-five year old virgin. If Marshall hadn't seen the relentless confidence and felt the blatant arousal pressing against him, he wouldn't have believed Kyle had ever even gotten past first base. As it stood, Marshall had a feeling Kyle had never felt up a woman; men however were a completely different story.

Aaron's mouth cranked out obscenities and lewd imagery the second Marshall appeared, but he'd managed to drown every word out like a champ, though his success was due in part toward reminding himself that he didn't crave dick, that having Kyle rucked up against him didn't push every pleasure button in Marshall's body. For some reason he was having trouble swaying his lower half. In fact, it seemed he couldn't take his mind off of Kyle, no matter what he tried.

And damn it all, the quarterly project that was due to begin in a few days would be lasting for six long weeks.

Six weeks with Kyle. Marshall groaned out loud, dropping his head to his hand and digging his nails into his temple, as if the pain would overpower the frustration he was feeling. It didn't work.

"You okay man?" Aaron's voice pulled Marshall out of his inner torment.

"Fine." Marshall snapped, glaring. "Look, I've got a lot of shit to do. Can we talk some other time?" He asked, though his voice and face brooked no argument.

"Sure...just call if you need anything." Aaron backed off, raising his hands in surrender. "Maybe we can grab a beer later." Marshall grunted noncommittally, squeezing the computer mouse with a white-knuckled hand. Aaron stood awkwardly for another minute before walking away but Marshall didn't notice. His eyes bored hatefully into Kyle's back, tinged with apprehension. How the hell was he going to get through the next few weeks?

* * *

No matter how hard Marshall tried, he couldn't stop Monday from arriving. Monday. The first day of the big joint project. Monday was a few mere hours away.

Marshall lay sprawled out on his ratty tan couch. He'd splurged on an 18-pack of Bud Light (okay, he didn't splurge per se, since he'd grabbed the cheapest liquor on sale and sped home to drown himself in alcohol) and guzzled a good six beers in an hour. He'd started to feel really light-headed, woozy thoughts unable to latch onto any one idea. Marshall cracked the tab of the seventh can, grimacing at the tepid beer. He should have put them in the fridge, but by the time he'd considered the action he wasn't certain he'd make it to the kitchen - or back for that matter - without falling over and ralphing all over the floor. He resigned himself to the room-temperature liquor, figuring he should just chug the can to avoid the repugnant taste.

Bad idea. The sickening tang coated his mouth and Marshall felt like hurling. He fell back onto the arm of the couch, holding his head as if the contact of his hand would keep the room from spinning.

Fucking Kyle. It was entirely Kyle's fault! Why did he have to act like such a freak, running around molesting unsuspecting people like he was a damn sex fiend? Marshall didn't even want to think about how turned on he'd become. He wasn't gay; he didn't get off on men. There was no way in hell he was interested in Kyle.

So why did he keep picturing Kyle in the break room, arrogant smirk plastered to his face, and why could he feel himself reacting to the memory of Kyle's body shoved up against him, pressing his aching hard-on into Marshall's ass? Simply remembering that moment sent a shiver through him.

Marshall scowled, squeezing his eyes shut, and threw the half empty can from his fist, laying his arm across his face. He gratefully welcomed sleep as the blissful blackness took him into its willing arms.

He should have known not even sleep would grant him a reprieve.

* * *

Marshall sat at his desk, rapidly filling out the spreadsheet glaring at him on the monitor. It was a typical boring day, nothing out of the ordinary; with his scalding coffee sat untouched to the right, the worn mouse pad with a scenic view of the San Diego beach fading beneath the gray mouse placed just in front of the cup, and most notably the lack of personal items on the banal desk, everything was in its place.

Not a single photograph or knickknack sat on the dusty faux wood. His desk sat as uneventful and uninteresting as his personal life. Marshall never really noticed how threadbare his whole world truly was, but then he was blissfully unaware of the fact and maybe that was a good thing. It saved him from suffering through life with the understanding that he had nothing to live for, but it also prevented him from changing that awful rut he'd caught himself up in.

Marshall paused in his work, wondering why Aaron hadn't stopped by to barrage him with useless anecdotes about his sex life, not that Marshall wanted to hear all about the explicit tales of the promiscuous and the desperate. Still, it was unusual.

Looking around the office, Marshall noticed Aaron deep in conversation with Clara, and as he watched both of them stopped to stare past Marshall and toward the other side of the office. Marshall followed their gaze and his mouth gaped open in shock.

Kyle stalked toward him, expression predatory, as he strode across the fraying carpet. Marshall sat back in the seat, paralyzed as Kyle gripped the arms of his chair and towered over him, bending at the waist. It felt like Kyle was staring into his soul. Their noses stood inches apart, and Marshall marveled at the depth of Kyle's hazel eyes. Close up, he could see they were flecked with green and gold, rather than the endless black he'd always assumed they were. The glasses emphasized each glinting color, blooming and surrounding Marshall's entire vision. Marshall's lips parted as he opened his mouth to speak, but Kyle beat him to it.

"You know you want this. Stop denying yourself the truth and admit it." Marshall sat frozen. He wanted to shake his head, yearned to disagree, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Kyle's commanding gaze. Kyle's lips slowly stretched back into a smile.

Without warning, Kyle crushed their mouths together, demanding entrance with a skillful tongue. Marshall resisted for a split second, then relinquished all control, opening his lips a fraction and allowing Kyle to do with him as he wished. Kyle dug his hands into Marshall's messy hair; sharp nails scraping electric bolts of need down Marshall's body. Marshall gasped against Kyle's mouth and Kyle pressed the advantage, swirling his tongue through every inch of Marshall's mouth, pausing to stroke along Marshall's smooth, wet lips.

Marshall continued to yield, throwing his arms around Kyle's neck and whimpering against him. Kyle's hands raked down his sides and circled Marshall's hips with his thumbs before squeezing his prominent erection, causing Marshall to buck into Kyle's hand and tighten his grip.

Suddenly Kyle pulled back, grinning maniacally. Marshall's hands reached out toward Kyle reflexively, but Kyle caught him by the wrists and held them in a single hand. Marshall whined in the back of his throat, incapable of speech. Kyle waggled his index finger, patronizing.

"Ah, ah," he admonished. "I want to hear you say it." Marshall gulped in short, rapid breaths, trying to clear his suddenly dry throat.

"Wh-what?" He asked, voice gravelly and pleading. He would do anything to feel those hands again.

"Tell me how much you want me." Kyle's Cheshire grin was luminous, and there was a hint of amusement tingling his words. His lips looked puffy and red, soft to the touch by Marshall's memory, and glistening, yet somehow so firm and unyielding. So contradictory, just like Kyle. Marshall tugged uselessly at Kyle's tight grip.

"I--I--" Marshall swallowed painfully. Kyle nodded encouragingly and Marshall pulled his eyes away from that devilish gaze, uneasy. Around him, their co-workers stared openly; some shocked (like Aaron), some smiling in approval and making 'go for it' motions with their hands. Marshall's face burned and his mouth flapped open and closed like a beached fish. His eyes found Kyle's, who still stared patiently back at him.

"I...I wa--"

* * *

A loud, shrill beeping tore Marshall from unconsciousness. He groaned and rolled, falling flat on his face. Marshall yelped at the pain and sat up, gingerly rubbing his soon-to-be-bruised chin. He realized he must have fallen asleep drinking the night before, since he'd barely missed smacking his head against the coffee table a few inches from where he was sitting, and the coffee table certainly didn't belong in the bedroom.

The alarm droned on, slightly muted by the closed door. Marshall grumbled curses under his breath, though none of them were directed at the rude awakening or the early hour. No, his bad mood directed its force solely toward that awful dream, and the fact that his dick stood at attention, complaining angrily against the confining zipper of his jeans. Marshall shoved through the door into the bedroom and smacked the alarm with a brutal fist, silencing the incessant sound, and headed for the closet, picking out black slacks, a pale blue shirt and a dark suit jacket. A tie of thundercloud gray completed the outfit and Marshall made his way toward the bathroom for a quick shower.

His insistent dick refused to go down, much to Marshall's dismay, but he refused to take care of it. He would not get off at the thought of Kyle's hands stroking him, no matter how much his blue-balled friend ached.

Cold shower, grooming and dressing complete, Marshall unhappily locked up and drove the scant few miles to work. For the first time ever, Marshall drove under the speed limit and parked as far down in the underground parking lot as he possibly could, trudging each step up the stairs in trepidation.

He didn't want to see Kyle or that wicked gleam in his eye, and he sure as hell didn't want his frustrated dick to speak for him. Eventually there was no avoiding the confrontation. Marshall stood at the door to the sixth floor, hand clutching the door like a lifeline.

Marshall scolded himself under his breath. How dare he be afraid of a pathetic man like Kyle? If he was afraid, he was the pathetic one. Marshall opened the door and stomped determinedly to his cubicle. He threw the briefcase to the floor under his desk and started up the computer.

Let Kyle come to me. I'm not his bitch.

Even though Marshall had moved agonizingly slowly, he still managed to get to work a few minutes early. Kyle, he'd noticed, arrived strictly on time every day, never more or less than perfectly punctual.

Kyle further proved that point by tapping Marshall's shoulder at exactly eight on the dot.

Marshall whirled around, flinching back.

"S-sorry, I d-didn't mean to st-startle you." Kyle apologized meekly, ducking his head and clutching his arms tightly across his chest. Marshall didn't know if he should feel irritated or paranoid about Kyle's obvious personality disorder. How long would it be before Kyle snapped and went mad, groping every male in the vicinity?

Marshall bit off the snide remark fighting to escape his lips and shrugged, eyes avoiding Kyle's gaze.

"Whatever. Let's get to work." He scooted over to accommodate Kyle and stared pointedly at the screen, starting up the hard drive.

"Um..." Kyle cleared his throat uncomfortably. Marshall resisted the urge to scowl and looked in Kyle's direction.

"Come on, sit down already. We've got a shit ton of paperwork to deal with." Kyle bit his lip and looked away. What the hell was his issue?

"W-we're sup-supposed to work i-in suite six-thirteen. So we c-can talk to cl-clients and―and--" he squeezed his eyes shut and Marshall swore there was a blush starting to break out across Kyle's cheeks.

Shit, he thought. I'll be alone in a locked room with him? Inside Marshall panicked, though the only outward sign of his trepidation came from his eyes widening slightly as the realization overwhelmed him. But he couldn't let Kyle see his terror. He stiffened his shoulders and looked up, steeling himself.

"Fine." He stood, stalking off toward their new workspace without another word. Having Kyle walk directly behind him made Marshall nervous. He feared Kyle's unpredictability and the vulnerable state he was in when he lost sight of the bi-polar man for the short walk down the hallway. When they entered the suite, Marshall gulped visibly at the click of the closed door and practically ran to the opposite end of the table, slipping into the furthermost seat and setting his shaky, sweat-soaked hands on the polished oak. Kyle deliberated next to the door before taking a seat three chairs away and pulling a stack of paperwork toward him, completely ignoring Marshall.

Marshall himself was surprised at Kyle's reaction. He was just so damn impossible to predict. And where did all that paperwork even come from?

"Shouldn't we both review the files?" Marshall surprised himself by asking. Kyle looked up, startled, and flushed.

"O-oops." Kyle winced. He got nervously to his feet and moved one seat over, passing a number of papers over without making eye contact. Actually, Kyle's eyes never left the table. Marshall raised an eyebrow but took the papers silently. What the hell?

* * *

By the fourth day of the project, Marshall was used to Kyle's awkward conversation and no longer waited with bated breath for Kyle's split personality to rear its ugly head. He'd even willingly brought coffee and bagels for Kyle and himself to share, waving off Kyle's buoyant thank-yous.

The day progressed slowly, and by the time five o'clock came around, Marshall was relieved and ready to go home. He waved distractedly at Kyle, muttering goodbyes, and left to clock out. He slipped into the elevator a few moments later, leaning against the back wall and running a hand through his dull brown locks. He sighed and closed his eyes, thankful for the three-day weekend.

With his eyes closed, Marshall didn't hear Kyle enter the elevator just before the doors clicked shut.

"I swear you're deliberately trying to test me." Marshall's eyes flickered slowly open, but he recognized the voice instantly. He didn't need to see to know it was Kyle's looming form standing over him―how had he not realized the man was actually taller than him before now?

"What are you talking about?" Marshall asked, his voice filled with irritation. He'd gotten so used to Kyle's kicked-puppy act he forgot to be on his guard for psychotic, violating Kyle.

"Oh, you are to test me." Kyle's face stretched into a grin and his hand reached back to hit the red "stop" button. A high-pitched buzzing noise sounded and Marshall balked.

"What the hell are you doing?" Marshall growled, starting to push off from the elevator wall. He never made it more than an inch forward before Kyle shoved him into the unrelenting metal. His hands found Marshall's and pinned them to the wall behind him, grip unbreakable. Marshall shouted in surprise and pushed back, only succeeding in causing friction between them.

Marshall's face heated up and his palms started to sweat. No. Not again.

"Kyle, damn you. Let me go!" He snarled. Kyle just laughed, the sound joining with the alarm and giving it an eerie quality. Marshall shuddered, and not just from fear, though the fear growing in him was almost palpable as he fought.

"Now, now Marshall. If you struggle, you'll just make things worse for yourself." Kyle's eyes flashed in amusement and he pushed against Marshall harder, rubbing their crotches together through the thin material of their slacks. Marshall grunted, tipping his head back and biting his lip. He hated how his body reacted so quickly to Kyle, as if his cock had waited all week for just a brief moment's contact. The dreams certainly hadn't helped.

"Mmm, I do love feeling you against me." Kyle sighed and rolled his hips to a slow, agonizing rhythm. Marshall couldn't speak. His voice clogged up and the only sounds trying to get out were choked moans. He hadn't realized Kyle released his hands until he felt Kyle's hips pull away from his own. He arched back against Kyle, causing Kyle to chuckle and push him back against the wall.

"Someone's eager." Kyle teased. "Shall I give you what you want?" He asked, tracing his fingers across the waistband of Marshall's slacks. Marshall didn't try to stop the moan that ripped from his throat, and his hips bucked. Though he couldn't speak, his eyes pleaded with Kyle's beautiful and merciless gaze. Those evil fingers traced the waistband and trickled up Marshall's stomach, scraping his nails up Marshall's abs, fingers splayed across his waist. Marshall's abdomen tensed at the contact and he bit his lip hard, pushing his hips forward again. Kyle laughed and his hands traveled up Marshall's body to his neck, cupping his cheeks and tipping his head up.

"Alright, calm down." Kyle admonished, flicking his tongue out to trace Marshall's lips and holding him back to keep him from pressing forward. Marshall's entire body lit up like it was on fire from the need tearing through him. His cock pressed painfully against his slacks and he could feel his nipples tightening beneath his shirt. His mouth hung open, silently begging for Kyle to clear the space between them. Kyle's hands released him and slowly drifted down his chest, pausing to tweak his already hardened nipples, eliciting a moan from Marshall's throat. Kyle's fingers found their way to the zipper of his slacks and pulled it down, slipping a warm hand beneath the fabric and trailing his index finger up Marshall's shaft.

"Oh, fuck!" Marshall threw his head back and his eyes squeezed tight. His cock pulsed against Kyle's finger, and precum oozed out of the tip, slicking Kyle's roving digit. Kyle wrapped the rest of his hand around Marshall's steel cock and squeezed gently, rocking up and down with a gentle rhythm. Marshall's moans spouted unending from his mouth and Kyle crushed their lips together, biting on Marshall's lower lip as he did so.

Marshall's mind reeled from the sensations. It had been too long without another person's touch, and he couldn't think past the inferno of desire building within him. In less than a minute he felt his balls tightening up, and he pulled from Kyle's mouth to emit a grunt. His hands scrambled for purchase on the sleek metal wall behind him as he thrust into Kyle's fingers. Then, the sensations were gone, and he was panting roughly, dropping to his knees and digging his hands into the floor as Kyle released him completely. His pain built and his cock ached, excruciating and leaking precum like a faucet.

A hand rested against his shoulder and Kyle knelt beside him, pressing their cheeks together as he whispered into Marshall's ear, "Want to go somewhere a little more private?" Marshall didn't have the energy to speak - something Kyle seemed to do to him more often than not - and simply nodded, collapsing against Kyle's shoulder. Kyle's torso rumbled underneath him and Marshall realized he was laughing yet again. The man seemed absolutely tickled pink by every reaction Marshall made.