Office Confrontations Ch. 01

[[Be forewarned, this is not a straight-to-smut story. I myself prefer plot-driven stories, so that's what I write. Any and all comments welcome ^_^ and yes I know the title sucks, my creativity dies when confronted with story names]]

*

"I hate that son of a bitch." Marshall ground out, glaring at the tall, dark-haired man two desks over. His back slumped forward and his feet kicked at the ground, eyes following the invisible dirt he pretended to shuffle around on the pristine carpet. Clara, the mail girl, was smiling and giggling, conspicuously attempting to hit on the man she clung to by means of jutting out her chest and shoving her voluptuous figure into the man's face. She was the office slut, and damn proud of it too. In fact, one of her favorite activities was to corrupt the innocent coworkers of the building. She'd successfully fucked sixty percent of the male population in the past eight months -- as long as she'd worked there -- and was trying to finish off the last forty percent before the end of her first year. Marshall always wondered if she'd lost a bet or she was just that much of a whore, but he was permanently a part of the never-been-fucked ratio of the equation because he knew for certain at least six of the guys she'd taken to bed were riddled with disease.

I don't feel like catching anything any time soon.

"Calm down. He's harmless." Aaron, Marshall's loud-mouthed best friend, ribbed him in the side and stood, balancing a notebook and three coffees in his brawny arms. "Hell, he's too embarrassed to look in Clara's eyes, much less fuck her. Get over it."

I am not jealous. I just hate that asshole.

Marshall ignored the reprimand, while in his mind continued ranting about every little thing, from Kyle's ugly glasses to his long, disheveled hair just barely held back by pale ears. And especially, especially those damn brown eyes. Eyes that pierced his soul and carved him out like the seeds of a pumpkin until he was hollow. As submissive and pathetic as Kyle was, his eyes could destroy worlds.

At least, they destroyed Marshall's.

"Like I give a fuck whether or not he bones that whore. I just can't stand his god-damned face. Or the way he whimpers all over the place like a kicked puppy. Fuck, can't he just grow a pair and act like a man?" Marshall snapped the stapler roughly with the hard bone of his palm, making a loud thwack that emanated throughout the floor. A few heads turned, including Kyle's, but Marshall wasn't paying attention. He was glaring at his laptop, not seeing any of the words or noting the numbers blurring together across the pixelated screen. No, he was imagining that delicate face, the surprising edge to Kyle's jawline, and the whimsical arch of his brow, usually hidden by the glasses tipped down his long, narrow nose. Pursed lips, quirked in a smug grin; intense dark eyes stared back at him in his mind's eye, as if Kyle were standing in front of him, watching him. Dissecting every second of his life, cutting away at his defenses and peeling out the gemstone hidden deep within his gut.

The bastard knew.

How Kyle knew, Marshall could never be certain. Maybe to normal people it wasn't obvious, or maybe it was. Maybe Marshall had muttered something that caused Kyle to believe it was true.

Hell, half the time Marshall didn't believe it. Instead, he ignored it, all of it. Ignorance made life bearable. But some nights, those rare nights drowned in alcohol, swimming in a pool of lies he could no longer hide from, Marshall could see nothing but the truth. Nothing but those damn eyes. Eyes that turned him on and terrified him all in one glance.

Marshall wanted Kyle. He needed Kyle. But most of all, he needed to be fucked by Kyle.

He wasn't gay. He'd never been gay; in his entire life, sleeping with women had been his only goal. Make money, sleep with hot chicks. Get a kick-ass car―to impress hot chicks and fuck them on the plush leather. He was a simple guy, he didn't want much more than that. He was twenty-four years old, plain brown hair, vivid blue eyes. A lean build, no extra muscle anywhere. Just an average Joe, looking for a good time.

Until that elevator ride three months ago.

Kyle had been carrying a stack of files, a good hundred of them it seemed, up to the finance floor, and as Marshall stepped into the elevator, he'd accidentally bumped into the poor man, that pathetic man with the stutter and the cowardly stance. Back then, he'd never thought much of the lanky, six-foot-tall nobody. There was no reason to. He was a quiet, shy guy. Ate alone every day -- not because he didn't have friends, though Marshall doubted he had any, but because he didn't want the company -- and rarely spoke to anyone at the firm. Just silence. For a while, Marshall had simply pitied the man for being so introverted, knowing that he'd probably never settle down; just go about day to day, existing. Alone.

When the stack crashed all over the elevator floor, most of the files flying everywhere and littering the elevator floor in a pile of thick, legal-sized paper, Marshall instantly dropped to his knees to assist Kyle. However, Kyle hadn't moved. He just stared down at Marshall, who was on all fours, quickly sweeping as much debris together until it was all in a mound at Kyle's feet.

About this time, Marshall had realized Kyle hadn't moved. He looked up, expecting to see that nervous gaze he was so used to seeing on Kyle's face, an irritated sneer crossing his own expression as he moved.

Predatory eyes looked down at him. Those eyes drove deeper into him at every passing second. His mouth, usually fluttering with stuttered apologies and quivering in fear, were drawn back in a smug expression, the right edge of his lip pulled slightly higher than the left. Kyle's eyebrow rose as he stared down at Marshall, and he kicked the entire stack of papers, careening across the floor all over again.

"What the--" Marshall's indignant response was instantly cut off.

"Pick them up." Kyle's surprisingly strong voice rang out through the elevator, which was as of yet unoccupied by any other office workers.

"But you just--" He tried again, but to no avail.

"Pick. Them. Up." Those terrifying eyes narrowed, brown irises sharpening with distaste. Without a thought, Marshall started picking them up again. As he realized his error, he lifted his gaze to Kyle's once more. The smug look was back in place, grin wider than before. He held out his hand and Marshall unwillingly placed the entire set back where they belonged. Ruffled, completely disorganized, but back where they belonged.

"Good boy." Without a second to go by, his expression shifted, and the dark, malevolent Kyle disappeared, replaced by the nervous one. The elevator doors opened and Marshall scrambled back up, muttering apologies to the three women stepping into the cramped space. Marshall purposely backed himself into the opposite corner across from Kyle and refused to make eye contact. Not that it would have mattered.

Kyle was bumbling about again, clucking his teeth and alternately biting his lip. The ladies trilled incessantly about bullshit no one else cared to listen to and the doors opened on Kyle's floor. He disappeared through the florescent-lit corridor, but Marshall swore he saw that expression again just as the doors closed.

After that day, Marshal refused to go within fifty feet of the man, with the exception of sitting in his cubicle. And he started despising the man that bore down on him, shoving him off his step in the dominant male pyramid and taking his place at the very top.

"Well, don't look now Marshall, but your best friend's walking this way." Marshall's head snapped up unwillingly to see Clara tugging at Kyle's arm. She pulled him urgently and dragged him over to Marshall's cubicle, smiling widely.

"Kyle here tells me you two have a lot in common." She winked and pulled back her shoulders, popping out her chest suggestively yet again. Hell, did she ever quit?

"No, I―I d-didn't...that's not―I j-j-just said we g-got the s-s-same project th-this quarter." Kyle dropped his head, hanging it down until his chin almost touched his chest. Marshall gulped. He hadn't heard the news.

"Oh hush, sweetie." Clara giggled, running her fingers across his arm. He shivered noticeably and tried to pull his arm away, but it was a weak gesture and Clara kept her hold on him almost possessively. "You're both going to be working on the same project, and both of you stay late every single day to finish your work! I don't know why you two have never talked before." Marshall couldn't figure out what her game was, but he didn't like it one bit. He was about to call her out when Aaron jostled him, knocking him into Clara with an obvious wriggling of his eyebrows.

"Oops, sorry man. Must've tripped." He grinned and Clara wrapped her arms around his torso, pulling him close.

"No harm done, cutie. You can get as close as you like." Marshall glared and pulled roughly away from Clara's grasp, rubbing at his forearms as if he could wipe away the tingling feeling on his arm where her uncouth hands lingered. Was it possible to catch a venereal disease from touching her arms? He prayed to God it wasn't. He lifted his eyes to survey the blonde and instead met the cold eyes of Kyle. Well, sort of. Kyle wasn't looking at Marshall. His eyes were narrowed for the briefest of seconds on Aaron, who was too busy laughing and trying to remember how to breathe to pay attention.

But as soon as Marshall noticed the breach of character, the expression was gone. Kyle tucked his head, long curls brushing against his chest and shoulders dramatically as he did so, and he began to sway slightly, taking teetering steps back.

"I-I sh-should g-get goi-ing." He mumbled. Marshall didn't like the way that lilting, delicate voice made his chest twitch. The sound was nothing like the rough, dangerous voice Kyle had used on him months back. There was so much terror and nervousness in his voice as he spoke, Marshall could barely believe the two sounds came from the same throat. Clara, of course, wheeled on him and grabbed at his arms, though this time Kyle pointedly escaped with ease.

"Aw, honey, but we were just getting to know each other!" She teased, pouting lips jutting out in a melancholy expression that lost all sincerity when those same lips curled into a flirtatious grin. "At least come on by later? Get a drink with us? I'm sure the boys won't mind."

"Not at all!" Aaron, that damned imbecile, jumped up and crushed Marshall in his meaty arms to keep him quiet. Marshall still opened his mouth to protest, but Aaron wouldn't be disturbed, smoothly cutting off any chance of Marshall's protestations. "How about Barney's on Sixth? At nine o' clock?" Clara nodded profusely, causing her assets to bounce in all their silicone glory. Marshall rolled his eyes and grimaced, but she didn't notice. Her eyes were too busy ogling Aaron's easy grin and purposely flexed arms. Idiot.

Clara quickly returned to draping herself all over Kyle the second he made a move to leave. Speaking of which, Kyle was flinching and trying to escape her grasp -- without real effort behind it, because Marshall remembered the strength Kyle had exuded before -- and failing miserably. Clara's hand disappeared behind Kyle and she groped his ass, causing him to jump, and he literally yelped as he finally managed to get away.

"Don't think you're getting away that easy! You better be there, mister, or you'll get an earful tomorrow!" She giggled obnoxiously and he blushed, nodding his head just once before taking off and twitching into his own desk, though he was only a few feet further than he'd been standing seconds before.

Of course Marshall didn't watch his ass as he walked away...

"See you boys tonight!" Clara winked and jiggled off, swaying her hips like a stripper would for that extra twenty. Sickeningly, Aaron gobbled up every bit of it.

"Dude, you're not serious." Marshall grumped, glaring at Clara's departing figure. "Not only have you already hit that, but you caught a damn disease for your troubles!"

"Totally worth it!" He grinned.

Marshall needed to find new friends.

"Whatever. Next time, don't drag me into it." He muttered, resuming his original position beside the computer. Aaron chuckled.

"Relax, I'll keep her hands off you...and all over me." He pantomimed gyrating motions. Yeah, he needed new friends. Soon. "But don't even think about bailing. Someone's gotta be the sober driver!" He laughed and took off, probably to brag to his water cooler pals about his impending lay.

Dammit. I know him, he'll drag my ass out of my apartment kicking and screaming.

Why couldn't he just get through his day without all the complications? He sighed and returned to his work. Only another four hours before all Hell broke loose.

Fantastic.

* * *

"Marshall, are you coming?" The call came from the living room of the small, one bedroom apartment Marshall called home. Well, in the loosest of terms. In all honesty his place was shit. Broken dish washer, fridge on the fritz, a rotting green couch and a small goodwill television, incomplete with the eternally missing remote. His room wasn't any better, but at least the bed was comfortable. A four poster, Marshall got it at a steal when the local IKEA closed down. Really, it was the only salvageable item in the apartment.

"Marshall! Stop acting like a chick. Finish putting on your makeup and get your ass out here, I don't want to be late!" Marshall scoffed.

"Calm down. What, you afraid Kyle's gonna steal your date?"

"Wouldn't put it past the prick, she was all over him earlier." Aaron's mumbled reply made Marshall want to laugh and curse at the same time. Funny that his well-built, six-foot-two best friend with a thick mane of blond hair and a set of perfect teeth was terrified the spindly little grasshopper with glasses would steal his date, but rage-inducing because Marshall had to tag along regardless.

And he didn't want to see Kyle. At all.

Then again, that was all Marshall could think about. Now that he'd found he couldn't avoid the man, having to speak to him daily was terrifying him. The gangly loser shouldn't have frightened him, but the way he'd shifted from bumbling to deadly in a split second made him wonder what else that four-eyed freak was hiding behind the wimpy exterior. He almost didn't want to know.

"Dude, what are you wearing?" Marshall had walked into the living room to see Aaron standing there, tapping his foot impatiently and checking his phone. Unfortunately, his eyes were raking in Marshall's slightly gussied up outfit with distaste.

"Clothes?" He responded intelligently. "What's wrong with them?" He looked down at the dark slacks and the navy blue button-up shirt he'd tugged on, along with a thick jacket to keep him from freezing his nuts off out there in the January weather.

"You look like you're about to go on a date. Did you invite someone special without telling me?" Aaron grinned and tugged Marshall into a noogie by the neck.

"Get the fuck off! I just put on clothes, geez, I didn't realize you cared so much about what I wore." He grunted, grazing his hands through the slightly damp brown locks. Aaron laughed and tossed something at him. Marshall barely caught the keys.

"What are these for?" He asked stupidly.

"So I don't try to drive home, duh. I figured we should take my nice, shiny Volvo rather than your beat up piece of shit truck."

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with my truck!" He responded, defending his loveable but less-than-mint-condition Ford pick-up.

"Really, Marsh? She looks like garbage. Got enough dents in her most people assume she's gonna get towed to the junk yard any day now. Why haven't you gotten her to a body shop again?"

"Can't spare the cash... she's not that bad, okay? Leave Delilah out of this." He grumbled, replacing the keys in the bowl, taking care to grab his spare house keys as he ushered the idiot out.

"Whatever. Maybe I'll loan you the cash, I just can't stand lookin' at the damn thing. Hideous, she is." Marshall muttered something incoherent that sounded a lot like go fuck yourself, trust-fund bitch and locked up.

It didn't take long to get to the building's parking garage, and the bar was only ten minutes away, but it felt longer as Aaron described in gory detail every moan and thrust like a play-by-play of his last hook up.

"Not much of an ass, but you should have seen the rack on her!" Marshall had desperately tried to tune Aaron out with music, but not even the growling, almost unintelligible Osborne lyrics made things better.

"Yeah, yeah. She was hot, you fucked like monkeys. Can we move on?" Marshall responded, voice tight with irritation. "Besides we're here." Thank god.

"Finally!" Before the car was even parked, Aaron was out the door and rushing toward the family owned bar'n'grill at breakneck speed. Marshall moved much slower, trying to procrastinate the best he could. Didn't work. Eventually he'd unbuckled the seat belt, adjusted all my mirrors at least twice, and had reset all of Aaron's radio stations; there was nothing else he could do but shut off the car and step out.

"Ugh, might as well get this shit over with." He muttered, popping open the silver door and stepping out into the cold. The frigid air caused his exhalations to billow out in clouds of mist, and he tucked the jacket closer around his shoulders, ducking into the surprisingly brightly-lit bar, searching out Aaron and Clara, who was undoubtedly rubbing up against him like a cat in heat.

His speculations were proved correct. There she was, tucked into a booth and sitting on his lap, giggling loud enough for Marshall to hear as he approached. He restrained the groan.

"There you are! What took you so long?" Aaron asked, grinning brightly and not-so-subtly copping a feel.

"Phone call. My sister, you know how she worries." He lied through his teeth. Thankfully they didn't seem to notice, and Aaron didn't mention the fact that Marshall was an only child. Probably forgot as his hands grazed the unbound nipples peeking through Clara's tight pink top.

"Sit down Marshall! Join us!" Clara smiled and pointed to the booth across from her, expecting him to listen like a whipped dog. He set his teeth and sat down gingerly.

"Now we're just waiting for Kyle!" She gushed, as if the news was the greatest thing she'd ever heard. Surreptitiously, Marshall checked his watch. Eight fifty-five. They'd all been early. Kyle didn't strike him as the fashionably late type, so Marshall still hoped the cretin wouldn't show up.

Unfortunately, luck didn't smile down on him that night. Just three minutes into the conversation focused on how natural Clara looked as a blonde, something gawky stumbled over, practically landing on top of Marshall in the process.

"What the--" He threw his arms up, attempting to catch the invading body. Thankfully Kyle righted himself just before landing in Marshall's lap and took a step back, running his hands across his arms and shifting nervously.

"S-sorry, I tr-tripp-ped." He stammered, avoiding eye contact already. Marshall sighed.

"It's fine. Forget about it." Marshall waved it off and almost unwillingly scooted over to the wall of the booth, making room.

"Kyle!" Again, Clara's grating squeal permeated the air and she bounced in Aaron's lap, smiling at the pathetic loser and pointing at the seat next to me. "I'm so glad you're here. I thought you were gonna ditch us." She giggled again and covered her mouth coyly, but that didn't affect Kyle at all. He was still staring at the floor like he was waiting for the carpet to rise up and sweep him off into the night. Marshall was hoping for the same thing.