Page 113 of Under Construction

"What was that about?" Chris asks once they're driving.

"Just admin stuff." Dennis waves it off. "Some gala we have to do."

The following days find Dennis working on the presentation at Chris's apartment—his own home office feels too quiet now. Luckily, Chris helps with both the data analysis and stress relief, which becomes especially crucial when his father sends a script to memorize by heart that Sunday.

"Dad, this doesn't sound anything like our project," Dennis says through the phone. "Did you even read what we're doing here?"

"Dennis." His father's voice carries that razor edge. "For once, just smile and do as you're told."

"This is so fucking stupid." Dennis complains later. He jabs his finger at the printed pages, brandishing them like evidence.

"Hang on, babe—" Chris winces. "Hey, hey, easy—you're going to snap my dick off."

They're on the mattress, Chris sitting cross-legged with his arms braced behind him, Dennis straddling his lap. Papers litter the floor beside them, remnants of more unpaid overtime. Sometimes Dennis wonders why Chris puts up with him at all.

"Sorry." Dennis rolls his hips, trying to loosen around Chris's cock. Runs apologetic fingers through his hair. "But listen to this: 'The bamboo supports demonstrate traditional construction values while maintaining cost-effective implementation.' It's just empty corporate bullshit! Nothing about how we're actually revolutionizing the industry!"

"Screw it," Chris shrugs, eyes already fixed on Dennis’s chest. "We'll just change it?" He wraps his arms around Dennis’s back, nudging the script away with his face. "Move, you're blocking me."

Dennis moves the papers out of the way, still grumbling.

Chris brightens up. He roots around Dennis’s chest until he finds a nipple to suckle with a contented sigh. It's been a long day for everyone.

Dennis strokes Chris's hair absently, still frowning at the script while he grinds on Chris's cock, enjoying the fullness as Chris takes his break.

This isn't really about the ceremony. It's about keeping everyone happy, including his father. Most investors wouldn't know sustainable construction from a hole in the ground anyway.

"Nah." Dennis sighs. "This is just for show. A party with free food and overpriced champagne where people make small talk about golf and portfolios. They're not here to see how innovative the pavilion actually is."

Chris pulls off his nipple, brows drawing together. "You know the crew and I stayed because your way is the future, right? Not just some pipe dream, but where the real money's heading. The whole industry's going to follow you there."

Dennis notices the concern in his expression.

"I might give you shit, and we don't agree on most things—" Chris starts.

"Anything," Dennis corrects.

"Anything," Chris chuckles, "but only because your load calculations are always wrong."

"Except for the north plaza foundation."

"Fine, I'll give you that."

"And the rainwater system. AND the solar panel supports."

"Princess, that's beside the point."

"Of course it is. It's always beside the point when you're losing."

Chris bites his pec, sucking hard enough to make him yelp.

Dennis whacks him with the script. "Baby!"

Chris laughs, licking the mark before kissing it better. "Shush. What I mean is, all these old-school CEOs are too stuck in their ways to see the profit potential. You're building something revolutionary while they're still counting yesterday's money. If your dad could pull his head out of his ass for five minutes, he'd see what you're worth."

Dennis melts a little inside. "I don't really mind. Having one person believe in it is enough. Especially when that one person is you." He leans down for a kiss that Chris deepens, pulling him closer.

Dennis pulls back just enough to speak. "Will you come with me?"

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