Page 42 of Mann Hunt
“If he pukes back here, you’ll have to make it three hundred, ‘cause I’ll be joining him,” Charlie added, only half-joking.
“This is my friend Charlie,” Declan loudly announced to the driver. “He helps me when I need it.”
“Lucky Charlie,” the driver commented, with only a hint of sarcasm.
Declan lolled his head onto Charlie’s shoulder, snuggling into it like it was a pillow. “You saved me,” he whispered.
For a hefty tip, the driver helped Charlie extract Declan from the back of his, thankfully, un-puked-in car. It was only then that Charlie realised that what the muscular man at The Greek had managed to do going downstairs, Charlie was going to have to do going upstairs to the office.
He stood outside the street-level door, wedging Declan against the wall with his shoulder.
“Declan,” he shouted, which got some response. “Wake up!” He slapped him lightly across the face. “Oh, please wake up.” He slapped him a little harder.
Declan gave out a giggle. “You little bitch.”
“What did you call me?” Charlie yelled, then slapped him as hard as he could. That seemed to do the trick.
“Hey,” Declan slurred out. “You hit me!”
“Call me bitch one more time and you’ll see just how hard I can slap! Now, wake up.” Charlie pulled away from him, and Declan stumbled away from the wall. He balanced himself by throwing both arms around Charlie’s neck.
“Okay,” Charlie said, “this is a good start.”
Charlie managed to get his key out of his pocket and open the door. If he was going to make this work, he was going to have to take control.
“Okay, you with me?”
“Yeah,” Declan said as more of a breath than a word.
“One step at a time. Got it?”
“Hey, you’re really cute close up. You know that?”
“Great. Let’s go.”
Charlie had no idea how long it took to manipulate Declan’s mass of muscle, bone and booze up two flights of stairs, but it felt like hours.
He manoeuvred Declan towards the bed where he planned on leaving him. Charlie turned his gaze towards his boss and found him staring back.
“Thank you for being my Prince Charming,” Declan whispered. Then he kissed Charlie lightly on the lips and crumpled into a heap on the bed.
Charlie rearranged Declan’s body into what he thought was a more comfortable position, and was headed towards the stairs when he heard rustling from the bed. He turned to see the beautiful man struggling as he tried to remove his top. He had gotten himself trapped. Declan collapsed back onto the bed, a tangle of man and shirt.
“Here. Let me help.” Charlie pulled the shirt back down over his torso, then unbuttoned it. He pulled it open then slid the sleeves down his arms. He soon had Declan lying shirtless on his back. Charlie noticed the blue-black bruises covering his ribcage. He caressed them.Who did this to you?
Charlie watched as Declan’s muscled chest rose and fell with each breath. His washboard stomach pulsated with the rhythm of his heart.
Declan began to fuss, pulling at his pants.
“What the hell,” Charlie muttered. He reached down and undid Declan’s belt, followed by the button. Charlie’s hands shook as he contemplated unzipping the fly. He took a deep breath and unzipped his pants.
“Okay, I’m just going to pull off your pants now.” He felt like a doctor describing a physical exam in as much detail as possible in order to de-sexualise the process.
Removing a pair of pants over a well-developed set of buttocks was far more difficult that Charlie had imagined, given that he was attempting to avoid touching Declan’s body and keep from removing his underwear.
Declan lay there, stripped of all clothes, other than his tight briefs. Charlie stood there taking it all in.He kissed me.
He scanned Declan’s body. He wanted to remember every inch of it. He noted how well-endowed Declan was. Charlie’s whole body trembled at the sight. There was a magnetic attraction that seemed to draw his hand towards the sleeping man’s crotch. He felt the heat emanating from Declan as his hand floated an inch above it. He thought of all the lucky men who had been able to caress what was just below Charlie’s hand.
