(Untitled)
97) The worst feeling in the world:
being bored enough to fill this shit out.
98) The best feeling in the world:
Playing your music, your way, because it's what you want
99) Who sent this to you?: Fuck you Gabe
100) I tag:
The secretary is doing this. I'm sure you'll be enthralled by her answers.
Gabe slides his headphones off so they hang around his neck. In this shiny spaceship of corporate fuckery he knows he stands out. Unshaven, again. Cargos that cut off just below the knee. Faith No More t-shirt (he wonders if she has a clue who they are). Flip flops. Fuck he's loving the weather finally kicking into gear. Unpredictable but hot. The shower that had pelted down while he was on the subway clearing again into a steamy mess that seemed to spread the unseasonal humidity through the city. He really loved it.
"Hey, beautiful."
She smiles. Of course she smiles.
"I'm here to see the asshole upstairs. But the coffee is for you."
The pass is slid across the counter. He signs in.
Reason for Visit: Blow Job.
He smiles at the idea. Writes instead:
Reason for Visit: Personal.
"I want him all to myself for an hour - unless the building is on fire hold his calls, OK?"
Gabe couldn't imagine working a place like this. The weird homogeneity of the suits that come and go. The idea they're hip and cool because they don't wear fucking ties. The oppressive and overwhelming routine of it. He can't imagine being able to play the way Matthew can and then doing this. As good at this as he is. As pretty as his life style is. Doing this. Bullshit.
It makes him want to hit every button on the elevator just to see the reaction.
He doesn't.
Coming out at Matt's floor he walks right into the office, headphones still around his neck, drinking his coffee. He closes the door behind him. Locks it.
"You're an motherfucking piece of work, Matt."
The voice isn't whiny or plaintive. It's cool and calm and before the smirk, which Gabe is expecting to emerge across Matthew's face, can even emerge, Gabe's closed the space between them. Coffee on the desk he's suddenly got his hand on the back of Matt's neck. Gabe's a big guy, a strong guy, and there's just a small part of him that wants Matt to acknowledge it - and then his lips go straight for Matt's neck, a weird moment of contrast, a slightly submissive gesture as hands run down and he's unbuckling Matthew's belt.
"I've got an hour."
He sits on Matt's desk, still pulling on the belt.
"I want to watch real housewives."
And whether that's true or not - up to Matthew to decide.
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He had expected Gabe to be far less enthusiastic about this.
It was a very pleasant surprise to find he had been wrong.
"Housewives."
It's an amused tone, but he's enjoying where those hands are going.
"Then perhaps you should move a bit faster."
He doesn't sound like he means it. His hands move to Gabe's ass and give it a squeeze,eyes going momentarily to the clock. Though he tells himself he doesn't care.
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That one small moment of encouragement is all it takes. The proverbial green light and Gabe is in action. The belt is forced free and thrown across the room, an articulation to the enthusiasm he's feeling.
"Take your shirt off."
Gabe's pulling his own off, over his head it gets thrown in the direction of Matt's belt, and it's all he can do not to rip Matt's shirt off as well.
"Please."
He's undoing Matt's pants, undoing his own.
"I fucking love your body. I've been thinking about it all day. Cybering with some fucker and pretending he was you - pretending we were in this office, on this desk, face first you push me down and you're fucking me until I'm raw and begging you to stop."
And this time when Gabe pulls Matthew towards him he does go for the lips, hard and fast and aggressive. There's nothing submissive in the kiss, but there's everything enthusiastic about it.
"Put some music on. Something fast and loud."
Just the slightest smirk.
"Nothing by Chastity or her boyfriend."
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The praise is welcome. His own eyes are admiring the view in front of him. He's found Gabe very attractive from the start, but this enthusiasm is a very welcome addition to everything else that is Gabe. He licks his lips. Yes. Fucking Gabe over his desk would be a very welcome change to his day.
But his response disappears in the hard press of lips to his. And this is where he actually lets Gabe see how much he's enjoying this. He kisses back, just as enthusiastic, just as aggressive, but only fighting for dominance just enough to satisfy his desires, and not actually quell Gabe's change of mood.
He doesn't respond to the compliment verbally. Any response that comes to mind would likely throw the entire mood. So he reaches over and flicks on a Black Sabbath playlist on his computer and then he's gripping Gabe by his chin and kissing him again. Hard, hungry and insistent.
From the start of those damn memes he had planned to shove Gabe down onto his knees the moment he walked through the door. Make him suck Matthew off under the desk while he worked. Fucking him into the desk was a far more enticing idea.
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The dominance doesn't bother Gabriel, if anything he finds it reassuring, he always has. Subservience can be (rightly or wrongly depending on the situation) taken as indifference, but dominance strikes him as always a clear statement of intent. The intent may not exist beyond this second, this moment, but in the moment it's tangible and real.
And from the moment that Matt takes hold of his chin and kisses him hard then Matt's just, well, won. He'll do whatever he wants, he'll let Matt have whatever he wants. Matthew probably has no real clue how effective that was, how much Gabe had wanted it from day one. It's a strange thing the small gestures that mean something so much more significant from one person to the next.
That is, of course, why sex (not to mention relationships) become a minefield if you let it continue beyond those casual one time hook ups and one night stands.
Hands slide down from Matt's neck to his shoulders, down the torso that's now pleasingly bare.
"You're so tense. You work too hard at this shit."
Gabe's hands slide down further to start helping Matt's cock along, not that it needs much by means of encouragment.
"I'll have to remember to take care of that after work. Get those knots out - "
The music pounding Gabe can feel it through the desk, the bass resounding through the room. His hand moving to the rhythm.
"But for now this will have to suffice."
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But that's something he can keep stored away for future use. Right now he lets the rhythm sink into him. His coworkers are used to this. The music he occasionally blasts to drown the sounds out of his head when a day of failed wannabe music 'stars' has ground him down too far.
His hips move into the hand around his cock and he leans back ever so slightly, an appreciative noise in the back of his throat, mostly drowned out by the rough abuse of a guitar.
"You got over here faster than usual." It's an almost attempt at small talk. His tongue wets his lips again and he's still busy giving Gabe's body some long, appreciative stares. Whether he says it or not,it's clear he's pleased by what's going on right now. Why wouldn't he be?
"Must really be anxious-" A slight buck of his hips. "To go watch your show." And a smirk at that. Okay. Yes. He's terrible at small talk.
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"I was worried,"
Gabe says pulling his hand away.
"About the foul mood you were in. No doubt you were taking it out on everyone within ten feet of you."
And then he smiles, a big smile, generous, even. Happy. It doesn't take much, it never took much with him. Just a little effort.
"I should come by more often to keep your moods in check."
He will, Gabe decides, suddenly. It will be a test of sorts. He'll show up for lunch unannounced and see how he's received. The reaction will be telling. And the reaction will dictate how much Matthew will get in return. It's how it works. All relationships whether they're openly fiscal or not. It's a barter system and in the end you get what you're willing to invest. We don't all have the same capital to play with, but we all have something. Or Gabe, a romantic in his own way, believes that anyway.
"I want you to fuck me so hard, Matthew." Says the romantic. "That I feel you for the week. I want it to last."
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When he pulls away, he holds Gabe in place with the same hand on his chin, turning his head to press his lips to the spot below the other man's ear.
"Trust me, Gabe. When I have you bent over this desk, you'll be giving Black Sabbath a run for their money on volume control." He turned the volume up as high as it would go and stepped away to push his own pants down and off.
He slipped behind the Cellist, lips on the back of his neck as he caught both of the other man's wrists. Gabe kept finding a way to slip through Matthew's moods and change them from one thing to something entirely different. How did he always manage to force his way through Matthew's control? Every time he thought he had the other man figured out, Gabe managed to knock him off his feet, metaphorically. Disrupt his control. Get under his skin.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard into the desk that it's all you think about for two weeks." He directs both of Gabe's hands to the far edge of the desk, biting into the skin, a growl in his throat.
"Now bend over."
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Matthew's desire becomes evident, tangible, there's nothing indifferent about his enthusiasm, about the way his hands pull at clothing, the way his lips and his teeth aggressively mark their territory (as if to say, we may not be the first but we'll be the one you remember).
And there's something so gratifying about this, about having stripped Matt of his carefully cultivated mask of indifference, about having pushed through that and brought him to this place.
Gabe's body shifts into position, his hands grip the sides of the desk tightly, muscles tensing as his arms stretch across, the position pulling them taunt.
"Only two weeks."
Gabe knows how to play this. Other things he might get wrong, but not this. He can feel the music as the beat of the bass hits the floor, hits the desk, reverberates through and inside him, he can feel Matthew behind him.
"You can do better than that."
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