Hard For My Boss

“Yeah,” he mutters glumly. “And so did the CEO of Kleenex for all the feverish masturbating I did all those high school years.”

I laugh. “You underestimate how much others jerk off, too.”

“I’m pretty sure I have them beat.” Trevor lets out a chuckle finally, then leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “The thing is, I’m not used to boyfriends and dating … or to what you’re supposed to do when things start happening. Like, I could count on one hand the amount of times I’ve tried anything with a guy. Same goes for how many times I’ve kissed one.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “You’ve kissed only five guys before?”

“Less. Maybe three. Two if you don’t count a weird game of spin-the-bottle I was trapped into playing my freshman year of college.” Trevor gives me a tiny smile, his cheeks going rosy. “I’m not proud of it. I just … I just feel obligated to warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“I’m … a gay virgin.” He wrinkles up his face as it flushes even more. “Is that a thing? I’ve never … done anal.”

He finally arrives at his point. I nod slowly, then lean forward myself and meet his eyes gently. “Is that what’s got you freaked out? Do you feel like I’m pressuring you at all?”

“No, no. Well, not exactly. Maybe.”

“Let’s be adults about this, Trevor,” I tell him, speaking calmly and keeping my tone light. “We’re both adults. We’re having a good time. I’m enjoying what’s happening here.”

“Me too,” he throws in quickly.

“Good. So let’s not sweat too much about what we should or shouldn’t do. This is a first for me too, in a way,” I remind him. “I’ve never … been in this situation before. With an intern. Who … works for me.”

“Good point,” he agrees, nodding anxiously and fast.

I put a hand on his knee. He stops nodding and meets my eyes with surprise. “So it’s okay to relax a little. You don’t have to worry about doing the right or wrong thing around me. And to be quite frank,” I point out, “I’ve been a bit apprehensive about what exactly is right and wrong lately, myself.”

“Have you? Yeah?” His eyes are bright and hopeful, latching onto my words like they’re the golden thing he’s been waiting to hear for days. Maybe I’m saying exactly the right thing right now.

The idea is as cathartic for me as it hopefully is for him.

“Yes,” I affirm with a tiny crooked smile. “I think my only conclusion so far is that we both like what’s happening, and we both want what’s happening. Do you?”

“I do,” he answers at once.

“Me too.”

Trevor’s face visibly lightens as his posture relaxes. I’m happy as fuck to have provided him that bit of comfort, even if I’m quite sure it’ll be short-lived. With an uptight guy like this, any island of relief is just that: a tiny island in the middle of an unfathomably deep ocean of worry and terror.

Let’s hope I can turn this island into more of a mainland, lest we both drown in the cold, unforgiving sea.

“Oh! Aerosmith!” he exclaims suddenly, coming to life as he ditches the bench and rushes up to the painted Aerosmith guitar propped up on a stand. It sits in the corner near the balcony door. His eyes grow big when he sees the ink. “This is autographed!”

I get up and cross the room, smirking appreciatively. “I met Mr. Tyler at a party in Las Vegas. Used to represent a close friend of his back in ‘09. The autographed guitar was a gift.”

“Back in ’09. Wow, back then I was …” Trevor’s eyes turn to glass. “I was … twelve going on thirteen. Junior high. While you were … meeting Aerosmith.” His gaze drifts off.

I watch him for a bit. “Trevor?”

He lifts his eyes back to mine suddenly. “What are we doing again?”

“Why do you keep asking that?” I give him a reassuring smile. “We don’t have to know what we’re doing, do we? I want to do it, whatever it is. You do, too. So let’s just … let it happen.”

“But we can’t let it get out, can we?” Trevor wags a finger between his chest and mine. “This intern-boss thing? Me screwing around with my boss?”

“It’s a bit more than screwing around, don’t you think?”

After I say the words, the reality of what I just said hits me. Is this thing between Trevor and I more than screwing around? If I had brought any easy piece of ass home that Friday night, would it have been a quick burst of cum in the bedroom followed by a note on my nightstand, never to hear from them again? Was I really just looking for someone to get off with at that club?

And if I was, why did my mind and heart suddenly change so fast when I gazed into Trevor’s eyes and saw something there?