Page 11 of The Secrets We Hide

The dinner with Lucas felt like a breath of fresh air, a release from the suffocating tension that had permeated our interactions for weeks. Away from the sterile environment of the office, under the soft glow of candlelight, he seemed different too. More relaxed, more open.

Talking about things beyond work felt like a revelation. Discovering his passion for classical music, the depth of his appreciation for intricate harmonies, offered a glimpse into a side of him I hadn’t known existed. Sharing my own love for photography, the way I found beauty in the stark lines of the city, created an unexpected point of connection.

As the evening progressed, a sense of ease settled between us. The nervous anticipation gave way to a comfortable intimacy, a feeling that we were finally seeing each other, truly seeing each other, for the first time.

Reaching across the table to take his hand felt like a natural extension of the connection we had forged. His touch sent a familiar spark through me, but this time it was accompanied by a sense of tenderness, a feeling that went beyond mere physical attraction.

“Lucas,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, the words echoing the quiet certainty that had been growing within me. “This… this feels right.” The warmth in his gaze, the gentle stroke of his thumb on my hand, confirmed what I had been hoping.

Leaving the restaurant hand in hand felt like a small act of defiance against the carefully constructed walls we had both built around ourselves.

Standing in the doorway of his apartment, the city lights painting the room in a soft glow, felt like the culmination of weeks of unspoken longing. The hesitant kiss that followed was different from the urgent desire of The Obsidian. It was tender, exploratory, a gentle unveiling of emotions that had been carefully guarded.

The night that unfolded was a slow, deliberate exploration of this newfound intimacy. There was a vulnerability in our touch, a sense of discovery as we navigated the unfamiliar landscape of a romantic relationship.

I broke our kiss and stared into Lucas’s eyes. Reading them slowly. His pupils were dilated. His breathing was heavy. And from glancing at the bulge in his pants, his cock was hard. I leaned back in and grabbed the back of his neck pulling him closer to me and my lips crashed against his. This kiss was more raw, more everything. With one hand still around the back of his neck, I wrapped the other around his back and hauled him closer. We were now chest to chest, hip to hip. I could feel his throbbing cock against my own.

Our hands roamed each other’s bodies. Exploring each other in a different way than we did at The Obsidian. Lucas started to rut his cock against mine and I grunted. He broke the kiss this time. “Fuck, Dom. I want you so fucking much right now. But I think we should slow down a bit.” He said quietly with what appeared to be regret on his face.

I stepped back slightly, our bodies still touching, so I could get a good read on him. “You’re right, Lucas. We should slow down, I don’t want to fuck this up with you.” He nodded his head slightly and took a deep breath as he stepped back and adjusted his cock through his pants.Fuck that was hot!

With a slight smirk to his lips, “I had a good time tonight, Dom.” “I did, too. Umm, do you think maybe you’d want to come over tomorrow and help me assemble some new furniture?”

Lucas chuckled.God, I love that sound.“Are you sure we can be trusted alone together, after tonight?”

“Oh course,” I growled. “I can restrain myself. Besides, I want to spend more time with you, outside of the office.” Lucas’s face softened and he leaned in to give me a chaste kiss on the corner of my lips. “Yes, Dom. I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

With that, I returned a soft kiss to Lucas’s forehead and turned to leave. I looked over my shoulder and saw him watching me with a look I’ve never seen before on his face. In that moment, I wanted to cross the room and pull him in my arms to finish what we started when we walked into his apartment. But I couldn’t. we needed to take this slow. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lucas.” I said quietly, as I opened the door and walked out.

For the first time, I allowed myself to truly believe that this unexpected connection could blossom into something real, something lasting. The fear was still there, a quiet undercurrent, but it was overshadowed by a burgeoning sense of hope and a profound feeling of… rightness.

???

Lucas

Dominik was attempting to assemble a new bookshelf he’d ordered online. Emphasis on attempting. He was usually so precise, so in control of all things tech and security, but give him a flat-pack with indecipherable instructions and he turned into a delightful, albeit slightly grumpy, chaos agent.

“Are you sure you’re reading those instructions right?” I asked, leaning against the door frame of his home office, a mug of tea warming my hands. He’d commandeered a corner of his office for this Herculean task, much to my amusement. He grunted, wrestling with a piece of particle board that looked suspiciously like it was upside down.

“Of course, I’m reading them right. Step one: Attach… widget A… to… thingamajig B.” He squinted at the diagram. “Clearly, this misshapen plank is ‘thingamajig B.’ ” I snorted, taking a sip of my tea. “It looks more like ‘discarded packing material’ to me.”

He shot me a withering glare over the top of his reading glasses, which perched precariously on his nose. Fuck.He looked sexy as hell wearing his glasses. “Your lack of faith is noted, Christenson. This will become a functional piece of furniture.” He then proceeded to try and hammer a wooden dowel into a hole that was clearly too small. “Perhaps,” I suggested gently, “if you didn’t approach it with the brute force of a medieval siege engine…”

Dominik stopped, the hammer hovering mid-air. He sighed dramatically. “Alright, Mr. Architect. You think you can do better?” He gestured grandly with the offending plank. “Behold! The puzzle of our age!”

I chuckled, setting down my tea. “It can’t be that hard.” I took the instructions from him, my brow furrowing slightly. “Okay, see? ‘Widget A’ has the little arrow sticker. You’re trying to attach it to ‘Thingamajig B’ which, according to this highly artistic rendering, has the… slightly less blurry picture of a screw hole.”

Dominik peered over my shoulder, his nose practically touching my ear. “Ah. The blurry screw hole. My nemesis.” His breath tickled my ear and sent a shudder down my spine.

“Indeed,” I agreed, pointing to the correct piece. “And this… gem you were trying to force the dowel into? That’s actually a pre-drilled hole for one of the shelf supports. The dowels go… here.” I pointed to a series of smaller, appropriately sized holes.

He stared at the instructions, then at the various pieces of wood scattered around the floor. A slow smile spread across his face. “Well. Look at that. Apparently, even the great Volcury is occasionally bested by Swedish engineering.”

“Occasionally?” I raised an eyebrow. “I seem to recall a rather epic battle with an IKEA flat-pack coffee table a few years back. It ended with you muttering darkly about the futility of existence.”

He playfully shoved my shoulder. “That was a philosophical debate with inanimate objects, not a failure of assembly!”

“Right, right,” I conceded, a grin spreading across my face. “And this is just a… strategic pause in the construction process.”

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