Chapter Eight
Cooper didn’t stay the night. But he did stay till midnight, took his freshly dry-cleaned suit, kissed me in the doorway and left.
At work, he was ever the professional. Never granting me more than a polite, “Good morning, Mr. Elkin,” and he diligently did his job.
He was exceptionally good at his job.
As one of the senior partners, I had a slew of architects under me, who were delegated a range of jobs. So while yes, I had chosen him to work on my team, he was one of many. And it wouldn’t have been unusual for me not to see him every day.
But I looked for him. I kept an eye on him, and I watched what he did. But I didn’t speak to him, not more than a hello or a courteous nod in the hall.
He was really, very good at his job. He was also very good at pretending he didn’t know me.
But on the Thursday—four days since I’d seen him outside work—just before closing time, Jennifer’s intercom buzzed. “Yes, Jennifer?”
“Did you call for Mr. Jones?” she asked. “He says you asked to see him.”
I smiled. “Yes, I did. Please send him in.”
The door opened and in he walked, wearing his suit pants, shirt, tie and a waistcoat, no jacket. He looked…hot.
He sat down across from me and smiled. “You wanted to see me?”
“Did I?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you did,” he said with a nod. “I’m sure you had work that needed doing tonight. At your place.”
I smiled at him. “Oh, yes. Now I remember.”
He looked like the cat that got the canary. “And it’s your turn to buy dinner,” he added. “Not that I’d ever tell you what to order, but I feel like pizza.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “God forbid you tell me what to do.”
He stood up. “Half an hour?”
“See you then.”
“Pepperoni and peppers.”
“I thought you weren’t telling me what to do.”
“It’s a Gen Y thing,” he said before he opened the door and walked out.
I was still smiling when Jennifer walked in. “Anything you need me to do before I leave, Mr. Elkin?”
“No, I won’t be far behind you,” I told her. “I’ll be working from home tonight.”
“Can I order you something to eat?” she asked.
“No, I’ve got it covered. Thank you.”
“Very well. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. “Don’t work too hard.”
I smiled at her as she walked out, knowing not much work would be getting done tonight. And thirty minutes later, I was home and pizza was ordered, when the doorman buzzed. “Yes, Lionel?”
“Sir, Mr. Jones is here.”
“Send him up.”
I unlocked the door, took out two beers from the fridge and smiled when there was a knock. “Come in.”
Still wearing the suit and waistcoat he’d worn that day, Cooper walked in to find me in the kitchen. He took the offered beer and didn’t hesitate to kiss me. It was a slow, deliberate peck on the lips that made my stomach knot—a kiss that promised more to come.
Then he said, “I don’t think Lionel likes me.”
“Why?”
“He won’t let me come straight up,” he said, almost petulantly. “It’s like I have to check in with him first.”
I took a swig of my beer to hide my smile. “He’s doing his job.”
“But I’ve been here like five times, and he’s seen us walk in and out together, and he still stops me,” he added. “What’s it gonna take for him to be cool with it?”
Cool with it? Dear God, he really was twenty-two. “He’ll be cool with it when I tell him you can come and go as you please.”
“What, like I live here or something?”
“Yes, like you live here or something. And you don’t live here, and you’re not my something.”
He understood then what I meant. “Oh.” He looked down at his beer. “Fair enough.”
I lifted his chin and stood in front of him. “Telling Lionel you have access is like my equivalent of giving you a key to my house.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
I kissed him softly. “I didn’t mean you weren’t something to me.”
His eyes widened and he looked at me squarely. “What am I to you?”
“Mesmerizing. Confounding. Amusing.”
He smiled slowly. “They’re some pretty good adjectives.”
I kissed him softly again. “Yes, that’s it. You’re some pretty good adjectives to me.”
There was a loud knock on the door. “Pizza.”
Cooper’s eyes narrowed. “He lets the pizza guy come up without buzzing?”
I laughed and went to the door, and when I came back Cooper was looking at the intercom. “Which button do I press?” he mumbled to himself. He didn’t wait for an answer, he just pressed the first button.
Lionel answered. “Yes, Mr. Elkin?”
“You let the pizza guy up and not me?” Cooper said into the intercom.
“Mr. Elkin, is everything okay?” Lionel sounded alarmed.
I swatted Cooper’s hand away and pressed the button. “Yes, Lionel, I’m fine. Mr. Jones here is feeling a little unloved.”
“Am I to alert you when Mr. Jones arrives, sir?”
I looked Cooper up and down, finally landing on his face. “Yes, you can still let me know when Mr. Jones arrives,” I said, and Cooper’s mouth fell open. “For now.”
“Very well, Mr. Elkin,” Lionel said through the intercom.
I released the intercom button and put the pizzas on the counter. Cooper glared at me.
I smiled at him. “You’re cute when you pout.”
He huffed. “I think I’ll need a lot more adjectives from you yet.”
I turned the pizza box to face him and opened it. “Hungry, cute.”
“You said that one already.”
“Impatient, talented, conceited, smug.”
“They’re similes. Didn’t they teach you similes in school back in the olden days?”
“Smartass, juvenile, petulant, belligerent…”
Cooper picked up a slice of pizza, bit into it and chewed thoughtfully. He swallowed his food and said, “Mmm, well, I like talented and conceited, but smartass and juvenile were a little harsh. I think we might need to go back to cute.”
I shook my head and sighed. “Okay, you’re a cute, belligerent little shit. How was that?”
He took another bite of his pizza and spoke with his mouth full, “Much better.”
I gave up. I doubted I’d ever win. I took a slice of pizza and he clinked his beer bottle to mine and gave me a cheeky grin.
“So do you really think I’m cute?”
“Just shut up and eat your pizza.”
Cooper gave me that smug little smile he got, but told me all about his week so far. How he’d been busy with the team getting basics done, and learning what he could. It was easy to see that he loved it, how animated he got, how it seemed he could talk for hours about projects and buildings, and drawings and concepts.
Even long after the pizza was gone and we’d been on the sofa for a while, we were still discussing design theories and building codes and planning laws. It amazed me that he could make me smile with just a pout one minute, then be a professional adult whom I could talk to for hours the next.
Then he changed the subject. “I’m sorry if telling Jennifer you asked to see me was out of line,” he said. “But I figured if I didn’t, I wouldn’t get to see you.”
“It’s fine,” I told him. “I’m glad you did.”
He smiled. “Me too.” Then he slid himself across the sofa and kissed me. But he didn’t stop there. He slowly leaned backwards, pulling me with him, so I was lying over him. He only stopped kissing me so he could maneuver himself into a better position for me to settle between his legs, then his mouth was on mine again.
Cooper opened his legs wider and held on to me tighter, and I rocked a little on top of him while we kissed. But it was languid and soft, there was no hot and heavy desire. His eyes closed gently, sleepily. When I brushed his hair from his forehead, I saw my watch. It was after one, we’d been talking for hours and I’d completely lost track of time.
“Come on, sleepy-head,” I said, getting off him, pulling him to his feet. “It’s too late for you to go home. You can stay here.”
I led him down the hall toward the spare room, Ryan’s room, but he turned straight into my bedroom and started to strip off. He threw his suit pants over the chair and climbed into my bed in his underwear.
Into my side of the bed.
I stood there, not sure what to do. I contemplated arguing, but realized arguing with Cooper was futile. So instead, I went back out to the living room, turned off the lights and by the time I’d changed into pajama pants and got into bed, Cooper was already asleep.
* * * *
Waking up to the feeling of being watched isn’t particularly pleasant. A sleep-rumpled Cooper looked at me apologetically. “I guess this could be awkward,” he said. “I mean, if we let it be awkward. But I’m all for thinking fuck it, let’s not be awkward. Let’s have pancakes for breakfast and then when you’re covered in maple syrup, we can shower together, or I can lick you clean. Whichever you prefer.”
I smiled. “Good morning, Cooper.”
“Morning, Tom,” he said with a grin. “So, pancakes?”
I looked at the alarm clock and fell back with a groan. Six a.m. “Pancakes.”
He bounced up on the bed, still wearing only his briefs. I could see the heavy outline of his morning wood. He knew I saw, he made no attempt to hide it. In fact, he then walked to the kitchen and proceeded to make pancakes, still only wearing his briefs.
Needless to say, breakfast was a mess, there was a lot of licking and a hot shower where Cooper dropped to his knees and took my hardened cock into his mouth.
I returned the favor on my bed, where he arched his back, gripped the sheets and screamed as he shot hard down my throat. He then chuckled and writhed on my bed until his body recovered while I took a shirt from my wardrobe and laid it on the bed next to him. “You’ll have to wear the suit pants you wore yesterday to work, but at least people won’t know you didn’t go home if you’re wearing a new shirt.”
Cooper laughed. “It wouldn’t have been the first time I’ve done the walk of shame.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Come on, you need to get up. Don’t want to be late.”
He stretched lazily and grinned, his spent cock lying heavy across his hip. “I don’t know, I think the boss might be in a particularly good mood this morning.” Then he added, “Anyway, I think he likes me.”
I did up the fly on my pants, not game to look at him in case he saw that exact truth on my face. “Whatever gives you that idea?”
“The way he gripped my hair and moaned my name in the shower.”
I blushed. The little shit made me blush. I cleared my throat. “Right, I better go clean up this kitchen.”
* * * *
For the next two weeks, we fooled around. Usually at my place, though I went to his apartment on the second weekend. It was small, very small, but clean and small. Did I mention it was small? But it was close enough to the office and he seemed to like it. Compared to my place, it was at the other end of the spectrum of places to live.
So, at his place, or mine, we spent time together. Lost in long conversations, or long make-out sessions, I couldn’t seem to get enough of him and as baffling as it was to me, it seemed he couldn’t get enough of me either.
But we never had sex. Well, not intercourse-sex. We were close a few times, and it was something we clearly both wanted, but it was something we never discussed. Like it was a step we were too scared to take.
At work, he was always the professional. He kept his cool, though I noticed that smug little smirk every now and then, but to anyone else, from what I could tell, no one suspected a thing.
It was Thursday afternoon and Jennifer’s intercom buzzed. “Mr. Jones is here to see you.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
He walked in with some draughting papers and sat down across from me.
I looked at the plans he was holding. “What are they?”
“Props,” he answered. “For Jennifer’s sake. I had to come in here with something.”
I chuckled at him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Well,” he started, and he seemed nervous. “I know I said I’d come over tonight, but the guys are going out tonight and they asked me to join them. It’s been a while…”
I looked at him, a little confused. “Cooper, that’s fine. You don’t need my permission. You’re young, you should go out.”
“It’s with Ryan.”
Oh.
“That’s fine,” I lied. He was young, he should go out and enjoy his life. Not be stuck at home with some old man like me.
“You can’t lie for shit,” he said flatly. “And I know what you’re thinking. Just because I’m young and we don’t go out doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy spending time with you.” He stared straight at me, seeing right through me.
“We should go out more,” I admitted.
“No, we shouldn’t,” he replied. “We can’t and you know it.” He looked around my office before looking back at me. “And that’s okay, Tom. I like what we do. But I’d like to go out with the boys tonight.”
“Of course,” I said with a smile. “That means I don’t have to listen to your shit music tonight.”
He smirked as he stood up to leave. “No, you can listen to your Hits of the Eighties crap without me.”
I opted for some classical music instead, knowing Cooper would hate it, and spent the night going over some concept budgets. It was quiet and lovely, but something was missing.
Cooper was missing. The noise, the mess, the conversation, the kisses, the cuddling on the sofa.
I’d spent three nights alone that week, so it wasn’t like it was that different. But it was supposed to be our night, and I’d been looking forward to it.
I got into bed, trying not to think about how different my life had become in a matter of weeks, or what that might have meant. I finally fell asleep, but the intercom buzzer woke me at one in the morning.
I staggered out to the living room and hit the intercom. “Lionel?”
“I’m very sorry to wake you, sir,” he said. “But Mr. Jones is here.”
“It’s one in the morning,” I mumbled. “Is everything okay? Is he hurt?”
“No, sir,” Lionel replied. “He’s drunk.”
I sighed. “Can you send him up? Or should I come down and get him?”
“I’ll get him into the elevator for you, sir.”
“Thank you, Lionel.”
Wearing only my sleep pants, I walked out to the elevator just as it arrived. The doors opened and Cooper stood, leaning, half-falling against the back wall. I hit the door button, so they stayed open, put my arm around him and hauled him into my apartment.
“I’m sorry,” he slurred. He planted his lips on mine. “You’re so sexy.”
I laughed. “You’re drunk.”
“’M sorry. Had to see you.”
“It’s okay, Cooper,” I said, walking him down the hall to my bedroom. “Everything okay? Did you have a good night?” Though it sure looked as though he had.
“’S good,” he said. “Ryan knows I’m seein’ someone.” He fell onto the bed, and I stared at him, unable to speak. Then he mumbled, “Not you, o’course, just someone.”
“Oh.”
“He wanted to know who I’ve been spendin’ my time with,” he said, rolling onto his side. “But I didn’t tell him.”
My heart was beating double time, but I got into bed beside him. He was quiet for a little while and I assumed he was already asleep. But then he said, “Why won’t you have sex with me?”
My heart leaped into my mouth. “What?”
His hand reached blindly for me and now my eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, I could see him watching me. “We’ve done everything else, why not that?” he asked, his voice slurred. “Don’t you want me?”
I squeezed his hand. “Very much.”
His voice was sleepy and not too coherent. “Then why?”
“Because it’s something we can’t come back from. If we do that,” I clarified quietly, “what we have, what we’re doing, becomes something else.”
“Might want something else,” he mumbled, and soon after his breathing evened out and he started to snore.
I stared at the ceiling until morning, turning his words over and over in my head, while my heart tried to convince my brain that it might want something more too.