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Standard disclaimer: These delightful people do not belong to me. I do not receive any gain--pecuniary or otherwise--from spinning stories about them. They are the property of Metro Goldwyn Mayer and other more august corporate types, and they return to those airconditioned, wall-to-wall carpeted purlieux once I'm through with them--unscathed.
This story involves a few bad jokes and some rather floridly described male-male sexual encounters. If you don't like this stuff, don't read further!
"Bless you who read this, and please bless the strangers you encounter in your life this beautiful day. I used to think I was a butch top, until I slept with one."
Writing found in a Cambridge teashop
__________________________________________________________
There could be no doubt about it. Nick Boyle was bored.
"I can't believe how frigging long this site is taking to load!" he complained to Alex. She and Kristen were hunched over a vast assemblage of ancient Egyptian potsherds recently donated to the Luna Foundation.
"If you think websites take time, try an ancient Egyptian letter to the dead!" Kristen chirped briskly, with one of her acid little smiles. He frowned back at her. She paid him no mind. God, she irritated him sometimes!
"Nick's used to the timeframe of a SEAL sting operation," Alex explained to her work partner, making a quick note on her laptop.
"Oh? And what would that be?" Kristen queried with mock innocence.
"Sorta like Quick Draw McGraw," Alex replied with a wink and a twirl of her airgun.
"You mean something along the lines of--wham, bam, thank you masked man?" Kristen asked with one of her infectious giggles.
"I think you've got the picture," said Alex with a wry face.
"Going somewhere, Quick Draw?" purred Kristen, as Nick got up from his desk and headed for the door.
"Lunch," Nick said tersely, as he whizzed past, jaw set in a familiar look she was delighted to find on his face again.
"What about your website?" she inquired languidly, her brush raised over the next sherd in the sequence.
"Mrs Peel will take care of that," he yelled back as the hologram blocked him from view.
"Mrs--Peel?" Kristen inquired with a raised eyebrow. Alex rolled her eyes.
"It's a program Nick wrote on a rainy afternoon," she told the curious blonde. "Kinda neat, actually. It automatically extracts the data from a website and loads it onto a floppy in your absence."
"Hmmm maybe I can get Nick to copy it for me," Kristen mused.
Alex suppressed a snort. "Well, you can always try. Where there 's life, there's hope."
"I think I'd want him to rename it, though," the indefatigable blonde continued. "I don't really see Mrs Peel as my style. I think I'd have him call it Pussy Galore."
There was a pregnant silence in the control room.
"As a salute to Honor Blackman, of course," Kristen continued breathlessly. "I just loved her wildness in that movie. Do you have a favorite femme fatale, Alex? I could see you as the Modesty Blaise type."
"Um, Miss Marple, actually," mumbled Alex, typing faster and hoping Kristen would shut up.
****************************************************
Scowling, Nick headed for the kitchen. It was true that he was hungry, but not for food. He was hungry for Derek. He'd seen him briefly at midmorning when Derek had come down to the Control Room to tell his team he didn't want to take any calls except emergencies; he was working on yet another report for the London House and he wanted to finish it up by mid-afternoon. Nick had done his darnedest to catch Derek's eye but Derek had seem aloof, preoccupied, and perfunctory. Damn the Dutch and their stern rein on their emotions, he thought bitterly. At long last he understood what Philip used to mean by that ironic phrase he'd murmur at Derek's retreating back after some particularly unsatisfactory briefing-"the fatigue of the North." God knows, being Derek's lover certainly did tire him out-and not in the manner he would have preferred.
But was he Derek's lover? He considered as he began removing stuff from the fridge for a big sandwich. Humus and falafel and pita and big chunks of lettuce and tomato carried him along through his thoughts. Last night had been so good, so unbelievably good. True, it had been just one night--but oh, so much more than the proverbial one-night stand. He got hard just brushing by the thought of it--and the images came rushing in helter-skelter, blazing the windmills of his mind with their torrid, tawny colors and odors and sensations. Derek's deliciously textured flesh panting against his-his delirious moans as Nick had worked his way down Derek's chest, giving each hard, salty little nipple a voluptuous lick--his pleading, gasping murmurings as Nick buried his mouth in the dusky mane that crowned Derek's sumptuous manhood, tasting and holding the firm, swelling balls in the warm cave of his own mouth--as Derek's smell, rank and marvelous and florid, wrapped him up like a vast cope of sensual ecstasy--until Derek's surging, throbbing cock shoved its way forcefully between Nick's smiling, slurping lips--engorging Nick's throat with the veined and inexpressible bliss of tastes and sensations he'd only dreamt of knowing. Derek's sharp, staccato cries--"Gott! Gott!"--as his hands caressed Nick's head and twined themselves in Nick's hair with mad ecstasy--his thighs rampant and sweating against Nick's cheeks, as he took all of his lover into his throat--working, sucking, moving his own hands powerfully and deliberately around Derek's gorgeous ass and deep into Derek's warm soft tight crevice, so that Derek wept and screamed and sprayed his hot savory seed deep into Nick's throat, pumping again and again in a delirium that ended with the two of them, hot, spent, and exhausted, entwined in one another's arms on the damp sheets, their hands intertwined as sleep came quickly to usher them into a shared dreamland.
"Gonna do something with those balls?"
Startled, he twitched back into the present moment--and found himself glaring at the smiling, amused face of Dr. Rachel Corrigan.
"I mean the falafel, Nick." She offered him an impish smile.
He smiled nervously back at her. "Oh Rachel I, uh, didn't hear you come in."
"That's obvious," she commented drily. "I was interested in some falafel myself. I don't suppose you'd care to make an extra sandwich while you're at it? Unless you want all that's left? That's really what I was asking about."
"Oh, uh sure." As efficiently as if he were carrying out a reconnaissance mission in the desert, he made two sandwiches, while Rachel chattered on about Derek, Kat, the craziness of life at the Legacy, and various other things.
"I said, d'you think you'd like to go for a walk?"
"Huh? Oh, a walk." He blinked a little owlishly at her.
She looked suddenly worried. "Nick, are you feeling okay?" she asked, Mom-mode kicking in.
"Oh, sure Uh, it's just that I really need to get this stuff done this afternoon."
"Well, Nick, I have things to do too, but I hardly think Derek expects us to spend every hour of the day in the office, especially with such gorgeous weather. He's not a slave driver, you know," she informed him.
"Yeah, a walk'd be good um, later in the afternoon," he offered sheepishly.
She sighed, disappointed. "Okay, Nick. I'm gonna do some stuff in the control room. Why don't you just let me know when you're ready to stretch your legs."
"Yeah, I'll do that," he said with an eager smile. "Alex and Kristen are in there, too so you'll have company."
"Catch ya later," she called, as she left the kitchen. He watched her leave in some confusion.
God, what was wrong with him? He hadn't felt this hormone driven since high school. With a sigh he headed for the stairs. He did need to check in with Derek about the afternoon work schedule. And various other things
He knocked discreetly on Derek's door, and his pulses raced just at the sound of Derek's characteristically sepulchral "Come in!"
As quietly as possible, he entered the room, expecting to find Derek hunched over his desk. Instead, he was surprised to see his boss lounging in bed in his silk dressing gown, a large folio volume propped up on his lap.
"Nick!" Derek's smile was incandescent.
Nick felt more confused than ever. "Uh the London report?"
"I finished it over an hour ago," Derek informed him. "I just felt like I needed some time alone to think about things and, well, to think about us."
"Oh, yeah? Great," said Nick uncertainly. Derek's smile was bright a little too bright. He hadn't seen him this wired since the last time he'd been possessed by demons from Hell. Around here, you never knew.
"Yeah," said Derek a little conspiratorially, "plus, I figured that if I stayed up here long enough you'd come up to look for me. It looks like I was right."
"What are you reading?" asked Nick curiously, uncertain how to respond to this new mood of Derek's. He approached the bed and was surprised when Derek grabbed him playfully and pulled him over, kissing him lightly on the lips. He responded, and this second kiss grew in a thoughtfully sensuous manner as Derek's tongue artfully worked its way over Nick's lips and around the inside of his mouth in a way that drove him wild. Derek pulled away, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and lifted the volume to show Nick. "Robert van Gulik--a Dutch member of the Legacy, and an eminent Sinologist--presented this rare Chinese volume of Ming dynasty erotica to the Luna Foundation in the 1940s."
"They're amazing!" Nick gasped.
"Yes--aren't they," Derek observed, as his hand worked its way efficiently down the inside of Nick's trousers and around his throbbing, hungry cock. "Almost as amazing as you, my dear. Shall we spend the afternoon exploring some of these mysteries of the ancient East?" Derek's eyes, still gleaming with excitement, looked serious and naughty at once, as he took Nick's shoulders between his hands ravished his mouth once again with another ripe, raw kiss.
"Anything," Nick managed to gasp, "to be of service boss man."
********************************************
Two hours later in the Control Room, Dr. Rachel Corrigan was growing restless, Kristen was fidgety, and Alex's patience with both of them was at its limit.
"Nick said he'd come get me for a walk," Rachel complained. "And that was two hours ago. Where can he be?"
"Oh, you know Nick," Alex commented. "Derek probably dragooned him for some top-secret crunching. On that London report."
"This place is getting as dry and dusty as the Boston House," Kristen groused. "Don't these guys ever think about anything but their stupid reports?"
"Well, I say to hell with them," Rachel announced. "Anyone for a walk?"
"Gladly," the other two women chimed in stereo. They all laughed.
"And," said Rachel with a pert smile on her face, "if they come down here and wonder where we all, we'll just leave them at a loose end."
"I don't know about that," Alex said with a smirk. "There's nothing loose about either Nick or Derek as far as I can see."
Kristen giggled. "If only either of them had the wit to appreciate a joke like that, this place would be more fun." She turned to her coworkers. "Let them sweat it in silence up there. Let's go!"
As they left the House for a late afternoon romp, Rachel found her eyes looking up towards Derek's room and the drawn shutters keeping the gorgeous golden afternoon firmly out of sight. She sighed and shook her head. Nick and Derek certainly gave new meaning to the phrase devotion to duty ... Didn't they?
THE END
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