Office Confrontations Ch. 03


She was the complete opposite of Kyle, and that's what Marshall needed. He leaned back on the bed, sitting only in his boxers, and waved his hand over. She grinned and sashayed toward him, straddling his hips and kissing him. She rubbed against his groin rhythmically, mewling into his ear all the things she wanted him to do to her.

After a few minutes, Shelly sat back with her eyebrows knotted and her lips pursed.

"Is everything okay? Do you need to take something?" She asked. Marshall's eyes widened in confusion.

"What do you mean?" He demanded, highly affronted. She bit her lip and looked away.

"You're, well, you don't seem all that into it." She responded, pointing at his crotch.

Sure enough, Marshall was flaccid. Completely. Not even groping her and feeling her rub against him had turned him on. He suppressed a groan of embarrassment and irritation, fighting the blood rushing to his face―the wrong place for it to be rushing.

"Oh, no, I don't―I don't need pills. Sorry, it's--" He faked a cough, buying time. "When I drink it takes me a little longer." He shrugged helplessly, grasping at straws. This had, in fact, never happened to him before. In the handful of hook ups and short term girlfriends he'd experienced, he'd never not gotten hard instantly at a half naked woman rutting against him.

"Oh! Here, let me try harder." She grinned salaciously and reached into his boxers, squeezing and pulling. He closed his eyes, trying to get sucked into the sensation and not think about anything. Unfortunately, the first thing that came to mind when he closed his eyes was Kyle's hand gripped around his dick and bringing him to completion.

And, damn it all, the second that popped into his head, he began to swell.

"Ooh, there we go." Shelly cooed, moving faster. She thought it was her ministrations that had set him off. Marshall refused to accept that it wasn't. He shoved forward, finding her lips, both to shut her up and to try to distract himself.

Of course the first thought that came to mind was how soft and completely unlike Kyle's lips were. She was sensuous, subtle. Kyle took exactly what he wanted, claimed Marshall with his lips alone. Marshall bucked into her hand and she released him, stripping and pulling his boxers off. He lifted his hips, eyes still squeezed shut, and pulled her over on top of him. He stretched out beneath her, bending his knees, and the sound of a condom tearing caught his ears. Her hands found his stiff erection again and fully gloved his tool as he sat back.

Then her hips descended against him and Marshall thrust instinctively, moving against her rhythm as she filled the apartment with overly loud moans. Marshall still hadn't managed to shake Kyle's face from his mind, and he tried vainly to scramble for some heterosexual-ism, rifling through old girlfriends and desperately trying to replace Kyle's hungry gaze delving into his own.

Shelly undulated her hips and Kyle -- in Marshall's mind's eye -- leaned down for another scorching kiss. In the back of his mind he recognized Shelly's lips against his, but reliving his experiences with Kyle occupied ninety-nine percent of his mind.

With a few hard thrusts as he remembered Kyle rubbing his hands across Marshall's cum coated chest, Marshall exploded, and Shelly yowled as if she were in the throes of orgasm as well. Slowing, Shelly collapsed on top of his chest and curled her hands around his neck.

Marshall felt sick.

* * *

Getting Shelly out of his apartment was easier than he'd expected, and as he stood under the boiling spray of water from his shower, Marshall scrubbed away every last feeling of her body on top of his. He'd washed his raw skin with a rough rag at least three times from head to toe, and by the time he'd finished up the last of the body washing the water ran cold down his back. He sighed and shut the water off, toweling dry. He still felt the remains of his buzz, but didn't feel nearly as tipsy as he had before.

Still, driving was not an option. His car sat parked outside of Manny's Pub two blocks away, and he didn't trust himself even with a weak buzz behind the wheel.

Marshall stepped out of the shower, almost glowing pink from the intensity of his scrubbing. He stared in the slightly fogged up mirror, eying the haunted look in his gaze and the unruly mop of brown hair atop his head. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the cool ceramic sink.

I don't look any different. Tired, but not different. Marshall thought. I feel like I should look different. Like I should magically have a femme lilt and a damn sign around my neck that says "I'm a homo, please come hurl condoms and lube at me". He growled under his breath and stood up.

Marshall didn't really believe that. Sure, before when he thought he was straight he hadn't exactly loved every gay man he met, but he wasn't an uneducated, prejudiced jackass. He knew every person was different and they were just themselves, but he couldn't help lashing out at the idea. At being gay.

Gay. Fuck. He was so gay it should hang around his neck on a sign.

But Marshall was wasting time. He headed from the bathroom and dressed casually, though he deliberated over what to wear, much to his chagrin.

It's not because I'm magically gay, it's because―well...because I want Kyle to like what I'm wearing. Fuck it, I want him to look at me the way he did before. I admit it okay? I want him to like me.

Marshall glowered. He was to the point of arguing with himself. What kind of moron argued with himself? In his own mind? Bat-shit insane people that belonged in a damn padded cell. Marshall finally settled on a slightly faded gray shirt and his favorite pair of jeans, worn to the point of fraying at the knees. He looked at himself in the mirror. It felt completely idiotic to try to imagine what Kyle saw when he looked at Marshall.

A slightly gawky, average guy with stupid unruly hair and stupid plain blue eyes, absolutely no tan whatsoever. Marshall gave up. If he kept musing on what Kyle would see, his sour mood would heighten and he'd lose his gumption.

Marshall grabbed his keys and took off. Fifteen minutes later he was sitting in the back of a cab while the cabbie drove aimlessly around the suburb he could have sworn Kyle lived in, unable to remember the exact direction. The cab driver was getting pretty damn irritated with him, too. He was almost to the point of giving up on finding the quaint little house. What the hell had he been thinking? Of course he couldn't just show up at Kyle's house and expect him to listen, or even open the door. Kyle made it very clear he had no interest in waiting for him to "get a clue", as he'd spat out last time they were together.

Hell, was that really only a few hours before? It felt like forever. Days. He dropped his forehead to the glass, staring listlessly at the bland, mismatched houses, none of them with that lovely wraparound porch or inviting gate.

"Wait! Stop here!" Marshall sat up stalk-straight and pointed at the little house, just like he remembered. He grinned and hopped out, cringing when he paid the driver almost forty bucks. It was worth it. As the cab disappeared down the street, Marshall stared at the house. This time the gate was shut, and though the lights in the window were off just like last time, it felt less warm and more foreboding. Marshall felt a bit uneasy. Could he really do this?

I have to. Marshall decided. He took a deep, calming breath, and opened the gate, gently closing it behind him. He slowly approached the front door. Pausing, Marshall could hear the sound of music, Mumford & Sons, if he were to guess correctly. Morose music, to say the least. He took another calming breath and reached out to press the doorbell.

Seconds later the music cut off and there was a long, painfully long, silence. After almost a full minute Marshall considered turning around and bolting. Kyle didn't want to see him, didn't want to bother. He about lost his nerve when the deadbolt clicked softly and Kyle stood in front of him in his work suit, hair mussed as if he'd been running his hands through it constantly. All the breath rushed out of Marshall's lungs as he stared, terror seizing him. What was he doing here? Why was he doing this? He needed to get out now!

"What do you want, Marshall?" Kyle's voice sounded blank and dead, just like before. That broke through Marshall's hysteria. He summoned up all the courage he could muster and locked eyes with Kyle.

"I'm here to talk." Marshall announced. Kyle's eyebrow ticked just barely.

"Uh huh. And I care why?" He asked, monotone voice grating at Marshall's brain. He hated that sound, he really did. He hated the lack of emotion in Kyle's normally passionate voice.

"Can you just let me in? I don't want to do this out here." Kyle's eyes narrowed.

"Look, I'm not up for more of your bullshit today, or ever for that matter. Get out of here, and don't come back." Kyle started to close the door, but Marshall shoved his hand against the white wood to stop him.

"No, I'm not going anywhere. We need to talk." Marshall took a steadying breath and stepped closer. "Please." Now Kyle's eyes widened and the blank mask faded. Marshall just didn't beg. He didn't plead; he was a douche and everyone knew it. Before Marshall could plead again and risk the apocalypse raining down upon them, Kyle stepped back and opened the door to usher him in―albeit reluctantly.

"Thanks." Marshall mumbled, unsure of what to do as Kyle shut but -- he noted as an afterthought -- didn't lock the door.

"Just get it over with. I'm not in the mood." Emotionless Kyle was back.

"Kyle..." Marshall trailed off. He really had no idea where to start. How did he explain the revelation he had? Or the fact that he―that Kyle was―that Marshall had begun to accept the truth?

"I'm sorry." He blurted, biting his lip and grabbing the back of his neck. His eyes dropped to the floor and he stared at the crack running along the door frame. "I didn't...I never meant to act like such a prick. I should never have―I'm sorry, okay?

"I was an idiot. I didn't want to believe, I didn't want to admit..." He sighed. "You were right all along." He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away completely.

"About?" The prompt surprised Marshall into looking over, eyes hesitantly opening just a fraction. Kyle stood there with his arms at his sides, staring at him apprehensively. He looked like he still really believed Marshall wanted to jerk him around. Marshall slammed his arm into the door and shoved against it, bruising his shoulder as he virtually collapsed onto the heavy wooden door.

"Fuck. This is just fucking impossible to explain." Marshall snapped. "Dammit, why are you always so impossible? Why can't shit just be simple?" He heard Kyle's intake in breath, and instantly regretted his outburst.

"Excuse me? You're the asshole stomping over here and bothering me in my own fucking home. Get out. I don't know why I bothered." Marshall could hear Kyle coming behind him and he whirled, grabbing onto Kyle's shoulders and digging in his fingers.

"I like you, okay?" Marshall growled, ignoring the heat rising to his face. "I fucking like you, and I'm a fucking flaming faggot, and I have no control over the fact that I can't stop thinking about you, and what it would be like to be with you, and, and..." He huffed, glaring up at Kyle's shocked expression.

"I'm interested. I want your hands all over me again, I want to grab you right fucking now and kiss you, and I can't stop these stupid fucking ideas from jumping into my head and out of my mouth before I can stop them, I--" He was silenced by Kyle's mouth crushing against his own, and he opened easily to the onslaught of lips and tongue and saliva. He explored every inch of Kyle's mouth, tangling his fingers into Kyle's hair like a dying man clinging to life with his last shred of strength.

Marshall admitted it to himself. He loved the feel of Kyle against him. His entire body tingled at just the taste of Kyle on his tongue, and he knew without a doubt he was hard as a rock. For Kyle. A part of his mind fought in terror against the admission, but he forced it down. In a way, it was a relief to finally accept the truth. He was so tired of pretending, of shoving feelings away like they weren't really roiling inside him. All of the emotions and feelings he'd shoved down over the past few weeks boiled out of him, and he moaned against Kyle's mouth as the heady feeling swirled around him and he melted into Kyle's skillful hands.

It definitely felt weird, surrendering himself to another man rather than holding a woman in his arms, not being able to control the situation the way Kyle seemed to do naturally. Marshall pulled back to suck in a breath, and instantly his lips were claimed again as Kyle roughly nipped his lip and dug his nails into Marshall's neck, dragging him even closer.

After what felt like a lifetime, Kyle pulled back, breathing heavily. He stared at Marshall for a long moment, unblinking. As always, Kyle's bright hazel eyes felt like they bored into his soul and tore all of his defenses to shreds.

"I see you still haven't learned to think before you speak." Kyle chuckled breathlessly. Marshall joined him, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the door. For a moment he had been terrified it was another goodbye kiss, and he realized how horrified he'd been at the mere notion of Kyle pushing him away. Fuck, how far gone was he? And when the hell did it all happen?

"Do you mean it?" Slowly, Marshall's eyes opened to find Kyle staring at him with a very new expression of vulnerability. His eyes screamed fear, and Marshall would never in a million years have believed Kyle even had the capacity to feel, much less feel fear. "Do you really want this? If this is some 'phase' where you think you're gay for five seconds and then curse my name and my 'damning' ways, I swear I'll rip your balls off." His voice grew rough and serious, but Marshall could still sense fear dripping from his body language, the way he held his hands close to his chest, and took a step back, curling in on himself. Almost as if shy Kyle was peeking out.

"I swear I mean it." Marshall exclaimed. He laughed shakily. "But...honestly, I have no clue what I'm supposed to do here. I mean, what the hell do we do?" He smiled nervously, dropping his eyes. "I mean, besides the kissing, which I have to say has grown on me." He joked with false bravado, but he knew Kyle saw right through him, just like he did from the beginning.

Kyle pushed him against the door and stepped back, arms folded across his chest. Marshall wasn't sure he liked the look in Kyle's eyes.

"Hey, who said I'm welcoming you with open arms?" He demanded, though the tone wasn't harsh. Marshall made a face, scrunching up his eyes and wrinkling his nose.

"The making out doesn't count?" Marshall inquired. Kyle shook his head, and Marshall could see a smirk fighting his lips.

"Nope. That was just to shut you up." Kyle's fingers traced his chin as he pondered. "No, I'm pretty sure you owe me after all this drama and running around." Marshall sighed.

"What do you want, Kyle?" Marshall muttered. Kyle grinned as if he'd been waiting for that response. He stepped closer and grabbed Marshall's face with firm hands. Marshall struggled at the close proximity and controlling hands, but Kyle held him immobile.

"First off, you're going to do exactly as I say for the rest of the day. No complaining, no arguing." He dug in his nails as Marshall opened his mouth to protest. "Starting now." Narrowing his eyes dangerously.

"If you freak out and panic or disobey I'm out, and I won't give you a second chance." The gleam in Kyle's eyes was still there, but his tone was dead serious. Marshall gulped. He hadn't been sure he even wanted something with Kyle a few hours ago, and now he was considering accepting that deal.

Hell, considering? With Kyle so close, within kissing distance, with that warm breath caressing his skin and those hands tight around his face, how could he even hope to resist? But that didn't stop him from wanting to argue.

"How is that a fair deal?" Marshall asked. "I don't see how this is all my fault. You're the one that started all this, and you sure as hell tortured me enough through it all."

"Oh, I'm sorry my showing interest in you was such hell." Kyle's voice sharpened. Marshall groaned inwardly.

"You know that's not what I meant." Marshall complained. Kyle leaned closer, barely an inch away.

"That's my one and only offer. Take it or get out." Marshall knew Kyle would kick him out. He knew Kyle could just walk away right at that moment and never look back, and that frightened him. The fear made his decision for him.

"Deal." Marshall whispered, leaning up to kiss Kyle. That was the first time he ever tried instigating something.

So of course Kyle pulled back and waggled his finger in Marshall's face.

"I don't think so. I didn't say you could kiss me." He stepped back and wrapped his hands across his chest. "Now strip." He grinned and waited patiently. Marshall blanched, starting to argue. He stopped when he thought of Kyle leaving for good. Marshall had fucked everything up. Kyle tried to show him the truth, and Marshall just spat it all back at him. Resigned, he pulled off his t-shirt.

"Ah, ah. Slower." Geez, Kyle was enjoying himself way too much. Marshall sighed loudly and slowed his movements, taking an inordinate amount of time to pull off a mere shirt. He slowly popped the button of his jeans and unzipped, blushing fiercely at his own arousal. Obviously he couldn't hide his interest in Kyle for anything.

Finally, his pants were gone and he stood in his boxers, barely pausing to wrestle with his shoes, which decidedly did not appreciate his pants trying to escape without their permission.

"The rest of it." Kyle was positively gleeful and Marshall glared, covering his embarrassment with a scoff, arms folding protectively across his chest.

"What about your clothes?" He demanded. Pausing, Marshall blinked in surprise; he did actually want to see Kyle without his clothes. He'd never seen Kyle in anything less than a full suit, though as he stared he noted how well it fit his lithe frame. Kyle cleared his throat, reclaiming Marshall's attention.

"Forget about my clothes and stop ogling! Undress." He commanded, his amusement visible by the quirk of his lip and the gleam in his eyes. Marshall steeled himself and pushed his boxers over his hips, stepping out of them. He was tempted to cover up, but he shamefully realized Kyle had not only seen him nude, but had jacked him off. Kind of hard to feign dignity after that.

"Very nice." Kyle commented, stepping closer and running a hand down Marshall's chest. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and walked away. Casting a look over his shoulder, Kyle called, "Come on, hurry up."

Marshall followed suit, feeling awkward as his junk was hit by the slight breeze from the air conditioner. Kyle led them to the bedroom and made him stand still while he circled Marshall's naked form.

"Alright, now undress me." Kyle held out his arms and Marshall stared at him, incredulous.


"You heard me. Chop chop." He clapped his hands twice before holding his arms out again. That damn smug grin spread across his face. Marshall stepped forward, feeling his face light up again. Dammit, when did he turn into a blushing virgin?

Oh yeah, when he realized he was gay.

Kyle demanded he move slowly just like before, and Marshall quickly decided it took for-fucking-ever before they were both naked. Marshall couldn't figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The jacket slipped off easily, as it was already unbuttoned, and Marshall's fingers trailed over Kyle's toned arms, hidden by the sleeves of his pale blue button up. With fingers shaking slightly as he began on the buttons, one at a time, Marshall brushed back the fabric for every button he unhooked, pausing now and then to brush over the exposed skin with curiosity. Never before had Marshall looked at another man's chest and ached to touch it, but there he was, hands reaching for every inch of skin he could reach.

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