If You Can't Stand the Heat III

[plinkin.livejournal.com]

Title: If You Can't Stand the Heat
Part(s): 3/?
Pairings: Monaboyd
Rating: R'ish. I think. Maybe not.
Warnings: AU
Disclaimers: I don't know them and I'm not affiliated with them.
Feedback: I love feedback of all kinds.

Previous parts live in my nearly empty journal.
Plinkin's Journal


I’d love to shut up that smart mouth of his. Bill’s, I mean. What’s he playing at anyway? He’s sadly mistaken if he thinks I won’t wear make-up, just to embarrass him. Oh, who am I kidding? I love wearing the stuff anyway and don’t need Bills or anyone else to prod me into it. It’s just, he’s never seen me in it before, has he? Has no way of knowing that I dearly love my eyeliner and nail lacquer. Can’t wear it at work, so how could he have any idea?

Anywho. Time to go get ready or I’ll just sit here and stare at him all night. And Elijah looks about ready to crawl out of his lily-white skin. Crazy little bugger.

“Um. On second thought, give me an hour, guys. Come on, now. No more girlie jokes. It’s just, I have a few bits and bobs to take care of. Forgot. You know?”

“Sure Dom! Just, like, make it there when you can. We’ll be in the back. You know that great, big booth near the mirror. Yeah, we’ll be back there and I’ll save you a seat and order you a beer and it’ll be….”

“Ok, ok. Christ Lij, let me get a move on or I’ll never get there. So, I’ll see you all in a bit. Right.”

“We’ll be waiting, Dominic. Don’t dally too long or we may just get bored and go somewhere else and then where will you be?”

Billy sounds entirely too smug.

“See you, Bill. Lij.”

So, I’m off. Back through the dining room and past Orlando, who has already shucked his tux-shirt and bow tie and is folding napkins in a ratty t-shirt and dress trousers. Only Orlando could pull that off. I mean, he still looks smashing.

“See you in a bit, ‘lando, yeah?”

“Sure, sure. I’ll be there. No work tomorrow, you know? We can all stay out past our bedtimes and act like we’re fifteen.”

“Don’t we always do that? Put on a shirt before you leave. Don’t want you scaring off all the birds with that old thing.”

Actually, he could scare off all the women in a 100-mile radius and I wouldn’t care, at this particular moment in time. My thoughts are only of ginger hair and mossy green. It’s not that I don’t like girls, you understand? Don’t get me wrong. It’s just, I like Bill more than girls. I like Bill more than just about anything, and that’s saying something, there.

And we’re back in the kitchen and, good kid, Elijah has locked up the coolers and turned off most of the overheads. It’s all dark and cool and it feels a little alien. The kitchen shouldn’t be so still and shadowed. It’s a place for light and noise and life.

Ah, here we are. You know, I give Viggo a hard time but he’s really the best of employers. He’s here all the time and he’s quick to listen to any complaints we might have. Always open to suggestions. It’s not just all of that, though. It’s the little things that really make you appreciate the man. When he built this place, he did it not only with the customers in mind, but the employees, as well.

We’ve got this little oasis of a changing room that’s unlike anything I’ve seen at other places. I mean, it’s got the sink and toilet and lockers. What makes it different is that he was thoughtful enough to get decent sized lockers, ones you can actually hang your clothes in. We can’t wear our uniforms in, for fear of getting them dirty, so we always wear our street cloths and then change at work.

It’s also got a shower, which is almost unheard of. Nothing fancy, you understand, just a stall. Still, it’s nice to be able to step under the water, after a hard day, and wash off the miasma of the kitchen: all musky, oily smoke and the tang of sweat. Nice to be clean when you put your clothes on and to be able to go home and fall straight into bed, all fresh and squeaky. Nice to be able to shower before a night out with the boys.

So, off with the clothes, and down to my skin, and under the spray I go. And oh, those eyes are still swimming in my mind, as I wash the day from my body. Funny that. My body remembers those eyes and it knows exactly how my mind feels about them. My whole self is of one accord and responds appropriately. God. That man will be the death of me. I can’t very well go out in this condition.

What could it hurt? Just take matters in hand. Take care of this here and now so I’m not embarrassing Bill, and myself later on tonight. Yeah. Oh, the wall is frigid! Still, not so bad now, all nice and cool and slippery down my back. And it’s so easy.

It won’t take long. Just close my eyes. Nnnmm. So easy to feel the whispering tickle of his breath, on the shell of my ear. So easy to hear that perfect mouth whispering a nasty, dirty litany of gorgeous sound. It’s easier still to imagine that moist heat taking the place of my hand. So fast. So close already. Ohohoh. God, to look down into those eyes and to see those lips closed around me and sucking. Oh yeah. Pulling and sucking, cheeks hollowed and then soft and slack and beautiful. And those eyes. So fast.

“Nhugh. Billy!”