“Anyone else for today, Angel?” Charles asked the receptionist feeling more like wrapping up for now rather than attending the last scheduled client. It’s not that he didn’t love his job, not at all! It was just about Friday evening.
It had been 3 years already since Charles had started with the beauty business. His ex-boyfriend Logan was painfully carefree about his looks and used to neglect his nails until they looked like claws so Charles had to drag him to the bathroom and cut the claws off to Logan’s desperate “Oh, c’mooon!” It was more like fun for Charles to enroll on a manicure & pedicure course but what started as fun became his passion. Soon after his certification was complete he swapped his office cubicle for a manicure table in a nail care salon on the ground floor of the same business center.
Charles hated his cubicle. He hated pushing papers for 8 hours a day 5 days a week. He hated billing reports and his ever yelling boss. He hated the sour office coffee but the coffee room was the only excuse (apart from visiting the WC, obviously) to get out of the cubicle and see other fucked-out and communication-starved faces to exchange a word or two. Ironically, as a nail technician Charles met his now ex colleagues more often than during his speed marches to the coffee room. He enjoyed the meditative process of shaping-filing-trimming-polishing-massaging. He enjoyed the small talk with his clients - those tiny noncommittal verbal exchanges he had missed during his times in the office. He enjoyed seeing the fucked-out faces soften to his light touches, eye-lids growing heavy, words becoming rare. He enjoyed those faces brighten at the immaculate results of his work - he loved making people feel pampered, rested and beautiful. Yes, he definitely loved his job.
“Mr.Lehnsherr is here for 6 pm.”
“Oh... show him in, please.”
Lehnsherr... it was not like Charles had ever heard this name before. Charles could boast a good memory for his customers, their likes and dislikes and the bits of information they inevitably shared during the nail care process. Lehnsherr was definitely new.
“Good evening!” Lehnsherr nodded entering the manicure room. Amazing mixture of blue and gray pierced right into Charles’ soul through a longer than polite eye-contact. Time froze... Charles burned down to ashes and resurrected, Good God... That face was not something Charles could ever forget. The perfect outline of his masculine jaw, stone-carved profile, the steel and fire of his eyes, his absolutely sinful mouth. Do stop staring, Charles!
“Good evening, Mr.Lehnsherr! Please, make yourself comfortable.” Charles was still bathing in those eyes unable to look away. The man was fucking gorgeous. Period. Not only that, he was radiating sex miles around.
It took Charles quite an effort to unglue his eyes from Erik’s to retain the remaining decency. On their way downwards, his eyes brushed along Erik’s body, hooking at the below-the-belt area for a split second before arriving to their final destination - a fresh white cloth covering the manicure table. Even the briefest glance down there, suggested the man was quite well-hung .
“With pleasure, thank you. Call me Erik, please.” Lehnsherr grinned. He sank gracefully into the chair and lay his hands on the cloth in front of Charles. “Just make them short and neat, please”.
Charles gently took the said hands into his both to examine the current state of the nails. Well, they already were short and neat, not much to do, actually. The man was apparently used to taking care of himself. Long elegant fingers, soft palms, just a slight writer’s callus on the middle finger of the right hand. No wedding ring. Charles smiled to himself and briefly darted his eyes upwards. Lehnsherr was watching him intently. Unsurprisingly. It was not uncommon that his customers were knowingly or unknowingly gazing at him when his eyes were fixed on whatever he was doing. He could almost physically feel them staring.
“Do you play the piano?” Charles asked to initiate some senseless babbling as if he was not hugely distracted.
The other man chuckled. “No, why?”
“You have long fingers... fantastically fit for the keyboard,” Charles said unwrapping the sterilized set of manicure tools.
“Well, no piano, but my fingers are fantastic at some... other... things,” Erik purred with a smug smile. Charles blushed when his fevered fantasy supplied him with a number of situations with those fingers proving the statement. No chance the pinkest pink that was creeping up Charles’ cheeks went unnoticed. Damn... That’s awkward... “They fantastically move chess pieces,” Erik clarified finally.
“Oh...” Charles tried to disregard a vivid picture of Erik’s fingers sliding down his stomach and gently pressing under the waistband of his boxers. He mentally slapped himself to concentrate on shaping the nails, the file moving skillfully to make the nail outline just a slight bit rounder for it to perfectly repeat the line of the fingertip.
“Do you...work somewhere around?” Charles asked and cast a swift glance at Erik, registering the man was staring again, lips curved in a smile. Lips. Perfect kissable, lickable lips. Fucking hell...this man is a pure distraction!
“I’m an architect at Shaw’s Construction Bureau, 6th floor.”
“Oh... wow, I see. One of my long-standing clients works with Shaw’s Bureau.” Charles placed two bowls with warm soapy water on the table. “And now, please, put your hands into the water, we need to soften the cuticles.”
“Maybe Emma? She keeps insisting this is the best place for nail services around.” Erik deepened his fingers into the water as instructed.
Emma. Not only was she Charles’ long-standing client with perpetual hand pampering procedures and regular shellac requests. Charles could describe their relations as bordering on a close friendship. They could chat about almost anything but she’d never mentioned she had deadly handsome gay colleagues in stock... Maybe he is new? Maybe he is straight?... She wouldn’t send here a deadly handsome straight colleague to tease Charles, would she?
“Emma, exactly!” Charles was trimming and oiling the cuticles. His sixth sense suggested that Erik’s gaze was frequenting his floppy hair, maybe the bridge of his nose and quite probably his mouth. Charles slowly trailed the tip of his tongue along the lower lip, lingering in the corner of his mouth to offer a better view of this part of his face. Erik swallowed audibly. Gotcha!
Sexy things aside, Erik turned out to be a good interlocutor. There was an absolutely astounding, well structured, bright mind on top of that beautiful body. Apart from an easy talk on movies and car racing, they discussed the ethics of eating meat, cloning humans and the situation with refugees from the Far East. Charles loved a proper intellectual argument. Having a heated discussion with a passionate reasonable opponent was more exciting for him than echoing each other’s opinions on every subject. Logan was a great fuck, but God, was he a complete bore! And Erik... Erik aroused his body and excited his mind. He even played chess!
“That’s it, we are done”. Charles contentedly examined the results of his work. Perfect. As always, however. He hesitated. Fragments of thoughts were hectically swarming through his brain. He can’t let him go. Not now. Please, not now! “Erik, I... I am happy to tell you that... today we have a special offer for our new clients! You can have a... a bonus hand massage ... that is... if you would like to...“ Charles hoped he didn’t look as pleading as he sounded.
It was not ideal. Hand massage. Just a hand massage!.. But what else could he offer? Certainly not a bonus prostate exam. If a simple hand massage had to be the only tactile contact with Erik that Charles was going to have, then he would make sure to get the most out of it. Oh, those unspeakably filthy things he would do to this man instead!
Erik flashed a shark-like grin at Charles. “Well... I am lucky, then! It’d be lovely, thanks!”
“Okay, roll up your sleeves, please. I’m going to work with your forearms, too.” Charles tried to sound professional.
The elegant fingers started to roll the sleeve up, as if caressing the fabric. Their a little too slow and a little too playful movements were obediently baring a beautifully muscled forearm with well-defined veins snaking upwards.
“Higher...” Charles heard himself breathing out when the fingers stopped a little above the elbow. “I mean... I really don’t want to stain your shirt.” He added quickly.
“Of course,” Erik smirked and rolled the fabric higher up to reveal a deliciously shaped bicep. “Is it enough?”
“It’s perfect!” Oh yes, it is.
Charles warmed up some lotion between his hands trying to suppress a broad and highly inappropriate smile of blissful anticipation which caused a raised brow and incredulous “What?” from Erik.
Charles knew he was good at giving various tactile sensations. His hands were soft and knowing, they could be a source of utter relaxation, they could re-energize, they could arouse.
He gently took Erik’s hand in his, catching a glimpse of the intricate lines on the exposed palm and covered it with his other one, sharing the warmth building between them. Then his palm slid slowly past the wrist and moved upwards along the outstretched arm, working the warm silky lotion into the skin with circular enveloping movements. The palm crossed the delicate patch of the inner elbow, musingly reached the bicep and paused.
“Erik...” Charles’ voice sounded rougher than he expected, his hand still sitting tight on the other man’s bicep. “You might want to close your eyes... it will help you relax better.” He shamelessly kneaded the bicep slowly but with enough pressure to have a good feel of how well-toned and flexible the muscle was.
Erik inhaled deeply through his nose, let out a low purr of “Mm hmm...” and shut down the eye-contact giving Charles cart blanche to watch him unabashedly.
After some obvious hesitation “to leave or not to leave?” the palm slid around the bicep and continued its teasing journey along the back of the arm all the way down to the fingertips.
Of course, now that Charles was free to indulge himself in uncontrolled staring, his eyes were permanently wandering upon Erik soaking up the view. He watched his curly eyelashes trembling against the cheeks, the sweet spot that was pulsing down his neck, his broad chest with what seemed to be beautifully chiseled pectorals... Charles felt it was somewhat stalkerish but God sees, he could do nothing to stop it! He was drowning in the moment, his mind going blank and dizzy with the delectable scene he had, with the sound of Erik’s breathing, with the sensations that his experienced fingers were picking up from the contact with Erik’s skin. The warm velvet of the inner arm with ridges of the veins that were yielding under his thumb and the soft feel of thin hair at the backside .
Sensual, lazy motions floating all the way up and down the perfectly sculpted arm lingered to trace wide fluid circles into the hollow of Erik’s inner elbow. Erik shivered at the touch. He inhaled sharply, held the air and slowly let it out, as if trying to get breathing under control. Charles felt goose bumps rising under his fingers, light hair standing on edge.
“Oh, sorry, am I hurting you?” Charles asked in a thick quiet voice, his scrutinizing look coming across the erected nipples outlined through the thin layer of cotton.
“No......it’s just...I just seem to be quite...sensitive here.” Erik was loosing his way with words.
“Errr... ticklish?” Charles didn’t stop the teasing caress at the inner elbow.
“No, it’s a... different... kind of sensitive.” Erik let out a small almost coyly laugh. His breath was picking up pace, teeth worrying the flesh inside of his lower lip.
Want was quickly filling Charles’ mind and his slacks. He wanted this man, oh yes, he did. All of him.
He took Erik’s hand in his both starting to massage the top of it, thumbs gently stroking along and between the thin bones up to the wrist and back to the knuckles easing the accumulated tension. Charles let his motor memory do the job while his mind was playing images of what he’d prefer to be doing with the man instead.
He would probably start by confirming his assumptions about the content of Erik’s pants. He’d kneel in front of Erik’s chair pulling his pants and underwear down to the ankles, making him move to the edge of the chair, legs wide open, ass hanging in the air. Yes, that would do... Charles would go straight to business only lingering at the head long enough to moisten it with saliva for a smooth glide. Then he’d be sucking deep and greedy until Erik turns into a moaning mess ready to come hard... And that’s when Charles would withdraw, ecstatic at how frustrated and needy the man would look and sound...
Charles smiled devilishly to himself.
...Oh, yes, he would tease him but just a tiny bit. Charles’ hands would move to his buttocks, fingers caressing the crease and hovering ghostly over the pucker while the lips would be planting fevered dirty kisses on the inner part of Erik’s lean thighs. Starting from the knee, kissing their way upwards until Charles presses his nose into his balls. He would give them a lick in a broad wet stripe never stopping until he reaches the top of the head. This is where Erik would grab his hair and push his cock into his mouth...
Charles liked it a little rougher sometimes.
...He would let the man fuck his face, Erik’s fingers steadying his head, while the strong hips would be pushing up and down hitting the back of his throat...
Charles shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His slacks felt far too tight for this sort of ideas.
....Then he would like to be thoroughly fucked, please. Right now and right here... Spread over the manicure table. Soapy water rhythmically splashing out of the bowls as Erik fucks him hard, skin smacking against skin, these fine fingers squeezing Charles’ hips until it hurts. Erik would come first, panting into his neck, heart throbbing in his temples. Then the warm sweaty weight of his body would drop on Charles pressing him into the table for a tired kiss and a few moments of rest, before he would go down to wrap his amazing fingers around Charles’ glistening cock and finish him stroking and licking him, making wet sticky mess on Charles’ stomach, Charles’ come and his own saliva dripping from his lips. Mmnnn...aaaaah...It was that very awkward moment when Charles realized he had just let out an unintended and highly unwelcome moan. His bowls shrank and, damn, he was foolishly hoping that Erik would somehow ignore it.
Erik winced, his free hand slipping innocently under the table. Charles squinted disbelievingly... He could swear those were...tiny contractions of arm muscles that he was seeing??... Fuckfuckfuck!... It can’t be that Erik is palming himself, can he? No way... Or?.. Charles must be dreaming, the mere idea of it was surreal. He was hating his eyes for that shameless lie they were feeding to him. Really, for the sake of retaining his sanity, Charles must concentrate on something else, rather than blowing his client. But, damn, was it hardly achievable.
Charles flipped Erik’s hand and stroke some more warmed up lotion into the palm proceeding with the sensual caress he was giving out for massage. After his disastrous moan he was honestly trying to block all inappropriate thoughts, but they kept oozing into his mind. Admittedly, Erik’s palm was an open invitation for his mouth. Finally. Those. Delicious. Fingers. Charles would brush his open lips against the tip of Erik’s middle finger, letting him feel the warmth of his breath. He would gently bite on the pad, looking straight into Erik’s eyes not to miss the way the mesmerizing blue and gray would get darker. Then he would start placing light as the air bites along the length up to the sensitive skin that is hidden between fingers. Charles had to suppress another moan thinking of how he would give it a single lick and press his teeth into the base of the index finger before mirroring the soft bites back to the tip. Yessss....
Charles’ thumb was slowly drawing deep waves and circles at Erik’s wrist... The wrist that seemed so perfect for Charles’ mouth... with Erik thrusting hard from behind, his strong arm wrapped possessively around Charles’ shoulders. Charles would suck at the delicate milky skin with crossroads of bluish veins and sinew, moaning into it until Erik comes breathlessly filling him to the brim.
The pace of waves and circles quickened, as well as Charles’ breathing, his cock was desperately demanding for long overdue attention trapped painfully in his slacks.
Erik was sitting quietly giving in to Charles’ touch, eyes still closed, lips parted, his broad chest heaving. What would it be like to pin those wrists? How messy and vulnerable would he appear with the arms above his head, hips bucking into Charles desperate for more contact? Time stopped for Charles when he abruptly ceased thumbdrawing and roughly handcuffed Eric’s wrist with his fingers, feeling Erik’s heart racing under his tightening touch. Erik’s eyes snapped open.
“Fuck...What are you doing to me?...” he whispered barely audible. The tiny restricted movements of his hand harbored by the wide flatness of the table, which, as Charles had believed, were just the play of his obscene imagination, now seemed unmistakably real. The hand was obviously moving faster and harder in rhyme with Erik’s breathing that was coming shallow and fast. There was no mistake now of what was going on under the table. A wave of heat burst within Charles, burning his stomach and flooding his whole body rushing upwards to the roots of his hair and downwards to his neglected and painfully hard cock. Charles’ nails were digging absentmindedly into the skin of Erik’s wrist, lust-glazed eyes transfixed at Erik’s, pupil into pupil, mouths parted, two chests moving in sync. The sounds of heavy breathing and clothed friction tightened the air, making it thick with arousal.
And then... then Erik inhaled sharply, the nostrils flaring on his suddenly tensed face... the head bowed forward, eyes shut tightly as if in a silent agony and a wordless moan escaped his lips before he forced them shut... and then it was all over.
His features softened and the hand slipped back from under the table and lay heavily on the table, trembling slightly. He swallowed. His eyes still closed, chest rising and falling with damped amplitude, while traitorous crimson was creeping into his face and burning the ears. Erik buried his face into his hands and froze.
“Erik...” Charles called softly, his voice cracking just a tiny bit. He reached out tentatively to remove Erik’s hands from his face and took them in his own.
“I... I’m so sorry... fuck... it’s so embarrassing... What have you done to me?.. I am being ridiculous...” Erik sounded and looked absolutely mortified with that crimson glowing upon his fine cheekbones.
“Oh, no!... No! You... you’ve been amazing! And so...beautiful!...” They were sitting quietly across from each other, two pairs of outstretched hands meeting in the center and two pairs of eyes fixed on the shyly interlaced fingers.
“I’ve seen you around... Have come to ask you out for a coffee. Shit. I’ve fucked it up, right?” Erik confessed in a low whisper, as if fearing to hurt the vulnerable silence.
“Ask me.” Charles whispered back. A wide happy smile appeared on his face.
“Charles... would you agree to have a coffee with me tonight... despite my acting as a complete pervert?”
“Hell yes!” Charles was no less than beaming.
Erik beamed in return, squeezing the hands of the other man lightly. “But I need a tissue first!”