To You and Back

Chapter 14: Wont

Charlie was in early, as usual, sitting behind his desk. He wasn't sure how things between him and Peter would play out, considering all that happened over the weekend, but he was certain there would at least be professional civility. And he was right—but not as happy about it as he thought.

At a half past eight Peter came striding through the door to the outer office, clad in a camel hair coat over a charcoal suit, a foreign newspaper in one hand, a coffee in the other. Peter paused at his desk.

"Morning," Peter said.

"Good morning."

"How was your weekend?"

"Shut up."

Peter smiled and looked down at the paper. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Charlie's jaw clenched and unclenched. "No."

"All right." Peter tossed the paper on Charlie's desk. "We'll keep it business as usual, then. What's my morning look like?"

"You have a conference call in fifteen mins and a client meeting at ten-thirty."

Peter gave a hum of acknowledgment as he walked away.

"Oh," Charlie called after him. "And Takahashi called."

Peter stopped and looked back. "About what?"

"He didn't say."

Peter paused for a moment, then continued into his office.

**

Charlie sat in on the conference call, as he always did, sitting in one of the guest chairs in front of Peter's desk. Peter, as usual, could not sit still during these calls and wandered around the room, tossing a stress ball from one hand to the other. Passing behind Charlie, he paused. Expectation rose in the seated man like an electrical charge, born of past experience; any minute he expected to feel a touch on the smooth, warm skin at his nape, or fingers in the soft strands of his hair, right before they grab a handful to pull his head back for a mouth to clamp over his own.

But Peter didn't lay a finger on him. After a few seconds, he moved on, leaving a tingle of disappointment behind.

**

Later that morning, they took a company car to meet the client. In the back of the Lincoln Town car Peter caught up on busywork, signing off on assessments, confirming changes in contracts. Charlie, feeling slightly overheated, opened his coat and fanned himself distractedly with a folder. Peter glanced at him. Their gazes met. Peter leaned in. In a flash of foresight, he saw Peter putting the privacy screen up. He imagined the other man taking the folder from his hand and dropping it onto the floor of the vehicle. He could almost feel the hand behind his head, the rush of moist breath before Peter's lips touched his and the man push him down onto the seat.

Peter reached over—and depressed the window button, lowering the glass to let in chilly late October air. The rush of cool wind on his skin did nothing to cool the color in Charlie's cheeks.

**

At one o'clock Peter called Charlie into his office. It was lunch time, when Peter usually called him into the inner office and told him to lock the door. Most times Charlie didn't, leaving it up to chance as Peter pushed him up against a wall, pinned his wrists above his head, put his mouth to Charlie's neck, and slowly caressed his way down Charlie's body.

As Charlie walked through the doors, Peter crossed him on his way out.

"Where are you going?" Charlie asked highly irritated, turning on the threshold. "You just called me in here."