They couldn't stay here. The desk would just remain safely unmolested, except as a resting place for maintenance keys, which Frank grasped and pocketed with hands that shook just slightly.
Frank bit his lip and shivered his way back into his briefs, jeans folded stifling tight and drawing his zip up with a pained, stifled hiss.
Clu couldn't just--not--look, but managed to avoid staring. A traitor twitch of interest jerked to half-mast in his pants, nudging bare and indignant against his fly. Being into it didn't make that heavy ache any easier to ignore.
Still. It was nothing, beside years of waiting, that jagged yearning Clu had hardly nudged at all for such rich fireworks of pleasure. Frank needed it, the same as air or water, and that need would only grow.
Good things came to those who waited, but they did not have forever to stand here and do that. So:
"Yeah," Clu agreed, thanking fate he'd racked his bike for once. He'd been hoping for a Target run later. They needed eggs, but Frank needed their help somewhat more urgently. "Good, okay. You'll sit in front, with me."
Though--the thought of his new friend braced on his back, unruly hair wisping free of his helmet down the back of his neck--he had a feeling the open road would make Frank smile like that again. Might make him laugh outright, slim throat heavenward, arms tight around Clu for sheer joy. The bike growling under them contentedly, raw power straight up their spines, rumbling up through them 'til they were clingy and frantic on the dismount, grinding at each other with thighs still buzzing from the input--man, yeah.
Clu tucked that idea away deep, purely for reference. Good as it was, it wouldn't help them now. They were three floors off from where they needed to be. Clark straightened his jacket, fished his keys from his pocket and splayed them upward through his fingers like knives, feeling around for his phone with the other hand. Safer to grab it on the stairs, or once they were down.
"Don't worry," brightly, with cheerful certainty, "We'll, uh, we'll give him a call in the car."
Thinking about getting them out of there unobserved and undisturbed: "You need to stay behind me, okay? Not too close," because if they rubbed up nice, it was game over on some kind of monstrous defeat path, "but right by."
He stood at his full height and thought hard of another life, his army before and below him, rank on rank, roaring their loyalty back in one thunderous voice, like the Sea. He squared his shoulders and pulled Frank with him, out of the office, down the hall, and through the stairwell door.
They got down without seeing anyone, partly because it was the middle of the day and technically mid-meeting. Still. If Kyle, or any of Kyle's idiot posse, wondered where their frontend developer and chief coffee-fetcher had gone...
But they didn't. Nobody home. Just the two of them, looking for a plainish silver hatchback in Row H.
Clu finally relaxed with the doors locked, checking his mirrors and backup camera as Frank belted in beside him. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd pent up, sighed it all the way out. Tried not to stare at his adorably flushed passenger and grinned reassuringly, instead.
They'd made it.
That left: making contact?
Ah, no. Direct to voicemail, which he worked not to let show on his face, letting it ring through.
"Babe!" A bright, cheerful roar into the handset, watching the road, not watching Frank, who was starting to have trouble sitting still.
"Greetings! I'll probably be at the house by the time you get this. Listen, ah, my friend Frank is coming over? He," puff of air, feet and hands and eyes busy with merge-lanes diplomacy, "could really use some company, so I, sort of told him he could sleep over? Kisses! Bye!"
And Clu zipped off a particular Spotify link just as soon as they hit a red light. That was code between them, one borne of his own rocky start with managing the, finer points, of omega nature.
Thank the Users for Journey.
"How are we doing?" Gently, for his passenger. "You okay?"
no subject
Frank bit his lip and shivered his way back into his briefs, jeans folded stifling tight and drawing his zip up with a pained, stifled hiss.
Clu couldn't just--not--look, but managed to avoid staring. A traitor twitch of interest jerked to half-mast in his pants, nudging bare and indignant against his fly. Being into it didn't make that heavy ache any easier to ignore.
Still. It was nothing, beside years of waiting, that jagged yearning Clu had hardly nudged at all for such rich fireworks of pleasure. Frank needed it, the same as air or water, and that need would only grow.
Good things came to those who waited, but they did not have forever to stand here and do that. So:
"Yeah," Clu agreed, thanking fate he'd racked his bike for once. He'd been hoping for a Target run later. They needed eggs, but Frank needed their help somewhat more urgently. "Good, okay. You'll sit in front, with me."
Though--the thought of his new friend braced on his back, unruly hair wisping free of his helmet down the back of his neck--he had a feeling the open road would make Frank smile like that again. Might make him laugh outright, slim throat heavenward, arms tight around Clu for sheer joy. The bike growling under them contentedly, raw power straight up their spines, rumbling up through them 'til they were clingy and frantic on the dismount, grinding at each other with thighs still buzzing from the input--man, yeah.
Clu tucked that idea away deep, purely for reference. Good as it was, it wouldn't help them now. They were three floors off from where they needed to be. Clark straightened his jacket, fished his keys from his pocket and splayed them upward through his fingers like knives, feeling around for his phone with the other hand. Safer to grab it on the stairs, or once they were down.
"Don't worry," brightly, with cheerful certainty, "We'll, uh, we'll give him a call in the car."
Thinking about getting them out of there unobserved and undisturbed: "You need to stay behind me, okay? Not too close," because if they rubbed up nice, it was game over on some kind of monstrous defeat path, "but right by."
He stood at his full height and thought hard of another life, his army before and below him, rank on rank, roaring their loyalty back in one thunderous voice, like the Sea. He squared his shoulders and pulled Frank with him, out of the office, down the hall, and through the stairwell door.
They got down without seeing anyone, partly because it was the middle of the day and technically mid-meeting. Still. If Kyle, or any of Kyle's idiot posse, wondered where their frontend developer and chief coffee-fetcher had gone...
But they didn't. Nobody home. Just the two of them, looking for a plainish silver hatchback in Row H.
Clu finally relaxed with the doors locked, checking his mirrors and backup camera as Frank belted in beside him. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd pent up, sighed it all the way out. Tried not to stare at his adorably flushed passenger and grinned reassuringly, instead.
They'd made it.
That left: making contact?
Ah, no. Direct to voicemail, which he worked not to let show on his face, letting it ring through.
"Babe!" A bright, cheerful roar into the handset, watching the road, not watching Frank, who was starting to have trouble sitting still.
"Greetings! I'll probably be at the house by the time you get this. Listen, ah, my friend Frank is coming over? He," puff of air, feet and hands and eyes busy with merge-lanes diplomacy, "could really use some company, so I, sort of told him he could sleep over? Kisses! Bye!"
And Clu zipped off a particular Spotify link just as soon as they hit a red light. That was code between them, one borne of his own rocky start with managing the, finer points, of omega nature.
Thank the Users for Journey.
"How are we doing?" Gently, for his passenger. "You okay?"