Hector had never seen this part of the town. Didn’t even know he existed, from the outskirts he had wasted his life in. His eyes burned too much to appreciate the spectacle of flashing lights and bright colors that extend beyond the horizon, but he could get accustomed to it. It spoke of luxury, entertainment, and the kind of place Isaac would love to live in.
He took another drag of the cigarette. The movement of taking it to his mouth soothed him more than the cheap tobacco itself. Maybe it was about time to buy a more expensive brand, now that he could afford it.
Well, whatever. Anything that could rinse that taste out of his mouth.
“You’re going to catch a cold, dear,” Mister Cronqvist cooed from the inside. Hector shrugged and drew another breath from the cigarette.
Did the man notice his shivering? He hid himself better in his robe.
“Has anyone ever told you…” A hand gripped his shoulder; Hector flinched. “That stubbornness is unbecoming of someone as intelligent as you?”
Hector had been told that and much worse, but his boss didn’t need to know that. He still hadn’t quite grasped what, exactly, he thought about him, beyond making crystal clear that he found him irresistible.
“I’m fine. Am I disappointing you, sir?”
Mister Cronqvist left the millionth kiss on his nape for the night. It tingled all over in a way he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to wash away or ask for more.
“Not at all. There is nothing I find more pathetic and deplorable than spineless cowards whose only skill is to fawn to those who stand above them. Never, ever become one of them, not when you are so brilliant.” His broad hand, more callused than Hector would have expected from a man stuck in an office, returned to play with his hair, and he hadn’t realized before how quickly he melted from the touch, how he had missed it. “However, that doesn’t mean I can’t look out for you; and when I do, I would appreciate if you listened to my concerns.”
When that hand slid lower to embrace his shoulder, Hector allowed himself to be held with a knot in his throat.
He is just being polite, maybe he only wants another night with you, he told himself, even though he had come to know the man to be as blunt as a baseball bat and as concerned with keeping appearances as Isaac was with being socially acceptable.
… He needed another cigarette. At the same time.
“I’m finishing this, and I’ll come back inside, promise.” He waved his pack. “Would you like one, sir?” he asked, because even if they had broken every rule and for sure a few laws as well, it didn’t feel right to not be polite to his boss.
“I do not smoke, but thank you for the offer,” Mister Cronqvist rejected him with that subtle sneer of someone who believed cigarettes are beneath him. Better for Hector.
He needed a breath of fresh air without his boss breathing down his neck, or groping parts of his body he didn’t even know he had.
Although, after all was said and done… it wasn’t as bad as he feared. Hector had geared himself to earn his promotion through pain: Mister Cronqvist had stricken him as someone who took what he chose for himself without question nor hesitation. And, in some aspects, he carried himself like he had vaguely heard of the concept of a “no”, and he would prefer to not get acquainted with it. Hector had only recently landed his first job, but that didn’t mean he was a child who didn’t understand when a gentle request was an order, and he didn’t think much about it, in fact he was almost relieved when he had first knelt under Mister Cronqvist’s desk — money was money, and if Isaac really intended to start his therapy, then it was up to Hector to support him.
(His generosity tasted like smoke and bile.)
But contrary to his expectations, his boss’ lovemaking was nothing short of delicate. It almost offended Hector, being treated like a virgin girl on her wedding night, when he had always been the one pushing Isaac flat on his back and drawing blood. But he had forgotten what it meant to spill all over his stomach because he meant it, and not due to simple stimulation… being pampered, and listened to when it started to hurt, and held, and feeling starts burst in his chest…
Then again, as Mister Cronqvist joked between a kiss and the other, there are perks to being worshiped by an experienced man over fumbling with your high school crush. And oh, Hector had learned them, alright.
He might not know what Mister Cronqvist saw in him, but he completely forgot what he saw in Isaac, too.
Is this all it takes? You come once and it’s to hell with the one person who has been loyal to you? Whore. You’ll be lucky if you don’t incinerate the second you go back home.
As if Isaac would notice a thing. He has called me whore for breathing in another man’s direction anyway.
When the last stump of the cigarette turned into ashes, Hector flattened it in the ashtray, and considered lighting another one. He could have finished the whole pack, were he so inclined; and in that moment, he was. But he had promised Mister Cronqvist to join him when he was done with that one, and he ought to be on his best behavior, otherwise all he had done would be for nothing.
How Hector hated promises.
As he returned to the warmth of their room, he found his boss reading a book, legs elegantly askew on the bed like it was his room, with the linen sheet hardly covering his vast body. Somehow, the sight felt more intimate than unbuttoning his boss’ trousers.
Hector eyed the bottle of liquor Mister Cronqvist ordered to calm his nerves. Maybe that would help him more than the cigarettes. Or maybe he’d end up vomiting all over his boss’ lap. Staying sober was, regrettably, his best option.
“Are you done? Please, join me here.”
He patted to his side as if calling for his dog, and Hector hesitated for a second.
He’s too old to want a second round so soon… is he?
He couldn’t tell. Mister Cronqvist carried himself with a spirit and vitality that belied the crow’s feet around his eyes and the hard lines pulling his lips down in a perpetual sneer. Nevertheless, Hector had no intention of discovering what Mister Cronqvist could do, so he closed the window and obeyed.
Mister Cronqvist was warmer than the thin sheets. In normal circumstances, Hector couldn’t stand rubbing sweaty skin against sweaty skin, and sought the few cool spots on the mattress. But these were not normal circumstances. His boss wrapped his arm around Hector’s huddled form without hesitation, like no one had done in ages — perhaps, if he stretched his memory far enough, Isaac when he was much shorter and smiled with full teeth and enjoyed Hector’s company and he felt like he sprung to life again with his friend.
Maybe he didn’t hate contact as much as he thought.
“Look at you, you’re as cold as a corpse. I won’t accept any sick call from you, not when you are my best employee.”
“You needn’t worry about me, sir. I can take care of myself.”
“Is that so. Ah, you’re right, you don’t need to be coddled. You are much sharper than most people your age. You remind me of my son, sometimes.”
Hector’s head snapped upwards, which hurt his neck, but the man was not returning his surprised stare, more fixed on the chandelier.
“Unlike you, however, he’s still stuck in a teen rebellious phase, and who knows what he’d do if I didn’t keep an eye on him,” he murmured, with unusual melancholy from such a confident person. “Thankfully, I can trust you to be more mature.”
Hector got the answer as to why Mister Cronqvist booked a hotel for their… reunion. He decided to not ask questions every again.
“You flatter me too much, sir.”
“I flatter you as you deserve,” he sentenced with the air of a judge giving his final verdict and shutting down any protest Hector might have had.
“I thought you had high standards.”
“Again, I set myself the standards that I deserve. I told you, Hector, that childish stubbornness is beneath you.”
He got the message. Blissful silence descended upon them, carried by the cool air outside. There was no point in getting up and closing the window, with Mister Cronqvist shielding him from the cold. Besides, the man was strong and, if he could be rude in his mind, clingy.
The bed was downy in an unfamiliar way, yet too comfortable to keep him awake. Hector’s whole body sank into the mattress, along with his consciousness.
Maybe next time, Hector could show his boss he was no doll to be handled delicately…
Wait, why was he thinking of a next time?
Almost on cue, his phone buzzed. Mister Cronqvist hummed in disapproval, but he too seemed too comfortable to be bothered. Hector went to turn off the notifications… and his stomach sank when he read the message.
Goodnight handsome 😘 don’t have too much fun without me 😂
God damn it. Of all the days he could have decided to be nice…
Right. That was why he couldn’t let go of his best friend.
Only he could come crawling back to you even knowing how much of a piece of shit you are. No need to be on your best behavior with him, right? As if you could ever be. You’re only good to suck old men’s cocks and breaking people’s hearts. Whore.
He sighed. Next thing in the morning, he had to find some foundation to cover the lovely marks on his neck. If he could withstand looking at his own reflection.
Goodnight, Hector typed as Mister Cronqvist’s arms enveloped him from all sides.
