Chapter Four
There were three types of trips in my field. The shortest, a single night to give a pitch. The longest were expos and conferences, which could last a week. But the middle—a few nights for launching a new customer’s services, or various pitches in the same city—were my favorite.
Alec and I were on our third middle trip, and the first launch of service—for the same company we closed on our initial trip together. It was exciting, even if it meant sitting in a stuffy conference room for hours on end with shit all to do.
We'd been on countless single-night trips in the months since. Having a travel-heavy job was better than expected. I’d have been a travel influencer if I were a different person.
Who knows, I still might. But I loved how well Alec and I worked together, not just on the job.
Our habits and eccentricities meshed well with each other.
My attraction to him didn’t go away, but it was muted.
I still thought he was hot and would peek when I got the chance, and so did he, but I wasn’t lusting after my boss anymore.
The impracticality and overall impossibility of it got to me.
Alex was my boss, not a jerk off fantasy.
How could I expect to master anything if I couldn’t master myself?
However, my trip to Dudetown was longer than expected.
I got the urge to flirt with a guy and send dick picks more over those few months than the prior few years combined.
Or I’d flip the little gender switch on a porn site.
Since that first trip with Alec, almost all of my masturbatory fantasies involved men.
We were back in the hotel where it all started, in an identical room.
It didn’t hit me until we got ready for bed after our late night flight.
Alec and I wore underwear to bed and changed in front of each other daily in the field.
So, I thought nothing of him stripping down to his boxer briefs to slip under the covers.
Time stood still as I watched Alec drop his sweats and kick them towards his bag, and shed his T-shirt with both hands. He scratched the hair on his belly, staring at the bathroom, maybe considering if he was too tired to brush his teeth, before getting in bed with a humph.
Once he was under the covers, I was hard under mine.
And stayed that way throughout the night.
I dreamt about Alec submitting to me. Not fawning and begging, but doing what I told him.
Sucking my cock like a goddamn master before I pounded him into the shitty hotel mattress like I was trying to break it.
I woke up on my stomach and ground my steel-hard cock into the sheets.
It felt so good, and was in such need of release, that I had to stop myself from moaning.
I contracted my hips again, ready to feel the pleasure, but stopped.
There was a non-zero chance I’d be tempted to play with it, and that was a hard line I’d never cross.
The only way to get rid of unwanted morning wood without ejaculating was to take a piss.
But Alec’s bed was between me and the bathroom, and he woke up earlier than I did.
I didn’t want to flaunt my hard on in front of him.
My undies are small and tight, and I’m blessed enough that flipping it up in my waistband would expose half my boner, but I’d have to risk it.
Being caught with some morning wood was better than jerking off or peeing the bed.
I rearranged my cock as best I could and got up. My luck held. Alec was still asleep. Just as I passed him, he said, “Mason? What time is it?”
I stopped to answer. “Not even five. You’re good.”
Alec needs glasses, but never wears them. Even in the dim light through the drawn curtains, I saw him find the obscene log of my erection stretching up to my hip. I continued to the bathroom, but I was so hard, it pulled the tight waistband away from my pelvis, and he knew I caught him staring.
When he spoke, he had the appropriate amount of laughter and mild disgust that a guy is supposed to have when accidentally confronted with their subordinate’s erect penis.
“Go fucking piss man. Jesus.” He laughed again as I disappeared into the bathroom. “Almost poked my damn eye out with that thing.”
◆◆◆
It was the second time I had been to that restaurant for almost the same reason. Since I had been crucial in closing the client, Alec let me lead the product deployment. It went very well, according to him.
“Just over half a year, and you know the product like the back of your hand. Well fucking done, Mason. One hundred percent fucking effort.” Alec clinked his whiskey to mine. “Or, you bullshitted so good you had me fooled.” We both laughed.
“Here’s to hoping you don’t find out until it doesn’t matter,” I said, clinking his glass again.
Alec laughed harder than he needed to and shook his head.
The steak was better than the last time, and so was the company.
Knowing Alec for half a year, I felt like I could let my guard down around him more.
They say a new employee hits their stride at the six-month mark, but from how Alec and I were carrying on, you’d think we’d worked together for decades.
We overstayed our welcome, and the same flouncy waiter told us he’d need to seat a reservation at our booth. I thought Alec might bite his head off from the way he looked at him, but I should’ve known better.
“We’re not done with our drinks yet, and I think I’d like another. Can we close out with you, and move to the bar, or can you serve us there too? Hate to screw you out of a bigger tip,” Alec said.
I ignored the image of the server serving Alec at the bar in a different way. He was gracious and impressed Alec had such a presence of mind while a few glasses of whiskey deep.
The bar was a separate area that was much of the same as the dining room, with tall booths, dark woods and leathers, but more of it. I wished we would’ve sat there for dinner, even if the booths were smaller.
The new setting changed the mood. We were still having a good time, but it felt more… I don’t know how to describe it. Authentic? Honest? Like we let go of the pretense of our relationship. No more colleagues, or boss and employee, but friends. Just two guys sharing a win and a drink.
Things turned darker with Alec’s second order. I raised my brow at him, and he said, “What?”
“Nothing, man.” I chuckled.
“Are you tired? Want to head back? I can cancel it.”
“No. Just…” I smirked. “Remember that time you told me I was loose? Well, Alec, I’ve never seen you looser than you are right now.”
Alec laughed hard. “I am nowhere near as loose as you were that night. We didn’t see you for about an hour, and you had what? Three whiskies? You weren’t about to fall down, but I could’ve sold you the Brooklyn Bridge without trying.”
I tilted my head and lifted my glass to him. “If you say so. You’re the boss.” I finished the last of my drink. “Just never seen you drink so much. Especially when we have more meetings tomorrow.”
“Not till ten. We’re good. But I needed to blow off some steam. Shit’s been rough.”
“You think so? I thought we’d been doing pretty well.”
Alec, slowed by the booze, looked at me and said, “No, man. Work’s great. Just home shit.”
His tone landed like a lead brick. I couldn’t help but imagine the worst.
“Oh yeah? Everything okay? Are you… is your wife sick?”
He chortled. “No, Viv’s healthy as a horse.” The server came by with his drink before he could go on, and once it was in his hand, he took a deep sip.
I waited for him to go on. When he didn’t, I said, “Well, I hope it works out.”
“It won’t.”
“What do you mean?”
He pulled back as he formed the words. “My… Nah, man. I don’t want to bog you down with personal bullshit.”
“You’re not bogging me down. I respect you. If you wanna share, I’m all ears and tight lips. If not, I respect that too.”
Alec evaluated me, tensing his eyes. “My wife asked for a separation.”
I settled back in the booth, not knowing what to say other than, “Oh shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” I asked, not thinking through the unfettered interaction with my boss.
Alec sighed, sipped his drink, and said, “This is some real personal shit, Blackwood. Don’t let me hear you’re going to HR saying I’m being inappropriate.”
“No, man. Forget about work. Just talk to me.”
He sighed again. “We’ve been trying for kids since our honeymoon. Years and years. Doctors upon doctors. Treatments, drugs, procedures, everything. The issue is mine and can’t be solved.”
I wanted to ask him what the issue was, but it didn’t sound like he wanted to share.
“She’s leaving you because of that?” I asked, shocked. “Are you fucking with me? Is there something else, like another man or something?”
He shook his head and blinked away a frown. “Nope. Not having kids is a deal breaker for her.”
“What about adoption? Or a sperm donor?”
“She wants biological kids.” He sipped his drink.
“Both need to be the kids’ biological parents.
And that’s kids, plural. She wants at least three.
Even if one of the treatments or procedures worked, which they didn’t, it would likely result in only one pregnancy. So,”—he lifted his glass to me—“yeah.”
“Fuck, man. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say without offending your wife…”
He chuckled. “It’s okay. I don’t blame her. It sucked when the doctors told us a year ago, but I’ve come to terms with it. We spent the last year in counseling to see if she could cope with another path to parenthood. She can’t, so that’s that.”