When Rivals Fuck (5)
~ Frank ~
My heart is a hammer against my ribs. I can’t believe this.
I can’t actually, physically believe this is happening.
For two years I’ve built a wall between me and Julian. I made it out of blueprints, cold coffee, and sharp comments. I told myself he was just a distraction… that he was a cocky, beautiful mess who didn't care about anything but himself.
And now, he’s telling me he wanted me the whole time. And we just kissed…
I just kissed him.
The room feels like it’s spinning.
The last time I felt this out of control I was fourteen.
A senior dragged me behind the gym at boarding school and showed me exactly what my body could do.
I’ve spent my adult life burying that side of me. I thought if I let it out, especially at work, it would be diabolical. It would ruin everything I’ve worked for.
"Frank? Breathe. You’re shaking." Julian’s voice breaks through the fog.
I don’t realize I’m gasping for air until he puts his hands on my shoulders.
His touch is warm and steady.
"I... I can't do this," I stammer. My heart is beating so hard I think it might crack a rib. "This is a disaster, Julian. We’re rivals. We’re in the same firm. If Arthur finds out—"
"Frank, look at me." Julian’s eyes are intense. "Do you like me? Forget the firm. Forget Arthur. Do you want me?"
I swallow hard. The truth is sitting right there, heavy and undeniable. "Yes," I whisper. "I do."
"Then what are we doing?" Julian asks. "Two years, Frank. Haven’t we tortured ourselves long enough? We’ve been pretending we don’t want each other... you really think we can’t pretend a little more?“ he pauses and then continues. “Who knows, maybe if we stop fighting each other, we can actually finish this project."
I want to say no. I want to be the professional man I’m supposed to be. But my body is screaming at me to move closer.
And lower down, I’m so hard it hurts.
I look at Julian’s, needing to know if he’s just as affected.
He is.
His dick is poking against his trouser, straining for release.
"Fuck," I mutter.
The image of him bending me over this drafting table flashes in my mind. It’s so vivid I can almost feel the wood against my stomach.
I wince, the pleasure and the fear mixing together.
"Are you... are you sure we can pull this off?" I ask.
"We can try," Julian says.
He doesn't wait for me to overthink it again. He starts to move, sinking slowly to the floor. His hands trail down my thighs, his palms hot through my pants. He drops to his knees right in front of me.
The man I’ve spent two years trying to beat at every meeting is now on his knees. For me.
My breath hitches as he grips the waistband of my trousers. He stops, looking up at me, his eyes asking for permission.
His grip tightens slightly, more confident now.
Something in me pushes back.
“You don’t get to just—” I start, my voice breaking.
Julian pauses, but he doesn’t move away.
“Don’t I?” he says quietly.
That tone…
It sends a sharp heat straight through me.
I hate how much I react to it.
"Just relax, Frank," he whispers. "For once in your life, don't think. Just feel."
I nod, my hands gripping the edge of the table so hard my knuckles go white. Julian pulls my trousers and my underwear down in one smooth motion.
My dick springs free, throbbing in the cool air of the room.
Julian lets out a low, shaky rasp. "God, Frank..."
He wraps one hand around the base of my cock.
His skin is warm and slightly rough. He starts to stroke me, a slow, gentle slide that steals a jagged gasp from my lungs.
I throw my head back, my eyes closing as I lean against the table for support.
It’s been long.
Too long.
My own hand is the only thing that’s touched me in years. Not since the last man I spent a few careful years with.
And it’s nothing compared to the way Julian is holding me.
"Fuck," I grunt.
Then I feel the wet, hot glide of his tongue.
Julian leans forward and wraps his mouth around the head of my cock. I shudder. My whole body literally shakes from the sensation.
I suck in a sharp breath.
“Wait—”
Julian freezes instantly.
His eyes flick up to mine. “Too much?”
My fingers tighten on the table. I should stop this. I should absolutely stop this.
But my body betrays me, already aching, already leaning forward.
“No,” I say, quieter this time. “Just… don’t rush me.”
That changes something in his expression.
He starts to suck me. It’s slow and agonizingly perfect.
I feel his tongue swirling around the opening, teasing the tip before he spits on his hand to make the sliding even slicker.
He moves lower, his tongue trailing down the underside of my shaft, all the way to my balls.
When he takes them into his mouth, sucking gently, I feel a bolt of lightning go straight to my gut. I shiver, my knees starting to feel like water.
Julian watches my face like he’s memorizing every sound I make.
He releases them, but he’s not done.
He starts licking the sensitive line between them, his breath hot against my skin. It’s too much. The pressure keeps climbing until my muscles start to shake.
Not like my own hand.
This is messy. This is reckless.
This is exactly how it started back then.
My stomach tightens.
"Stop... stop," I pant, my fingers digging into the wood of the table. "It feels too good. I’m going to cum. I haven't had sex in forever, Julian, I can't..."
Julian stops, looking up at me with dark, blown-out pupils. His lips are wet and shiny. "You don't want to cum yet?"
"I want to," I say, my voice raw and desperate. "But I want to touch you too. Fuck. Get up here."
I reach down, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him back up. I don't care about the blueprints. I don't care about anything else right now.
I just need to feel him under my hands.
But Julian doesn’t let me take control.
His hand closes around my wrist firmly.
My breath stutters.
“Careful, Frank,” he says quietly. “You don’t actually know what you’re asking for yet.”