Page 71 of Under Construction

Dennis shifts closer to Chris, drawn to his body heat and the scent of their combined sex and sweat still clinging to his skin.

"Sometimes I think he let me have the Sacramento project just to watch me fail."

He edges even nearer until their arms touch, then presses his thigh against Chris's, trying not to be too obvious about chasing the contact.

But you're not failing." Chris's hand finds Dennis’s waist, and Dennis can't help but shuffle in until Chris's chest presses against his back, strong arms circling his middle.

"You're changing things." Chris plants a kiss on his temple. "Making a difference."

"Meh." Dennis shrugs. "Maybe." But he melts into Chris's hold—subtlety be damned—and lets his body sink back without guilt or shame.

It feelssooogood being naked like this—nakedwithChris, nakedtogether—wrapped up toasty in Chris's warmth like his own personal human blanket.

Dennis could never get sick of it.

"Or maybe I'm just being the difficult son. Again."

"The visionary son," Chris corrects. Something in his voice catches, like he's swallowing memories that taste bitter. "Trust me," he adds quietly, "there are worse things to be."

Dennis reluctantly peels himself from Chris's embrace and hurries back to his desk, Chris trailing after him.

Then he’s standing up, hunched over his desk, fingers flying across the keyboard while Chris offers his version of "help and moral support" by mouthing down Dennis’s spine, each kiss spreading a low buzz of pleasure through his overworked body.

"There." He hits send.

Chris's face lights up from where he's leaning against the back of Dennis’s shoulders, arms crossed.

Finally! Time to get his hands on Chris properly, all to himself.

Dennis spins around to find Chris grinning at him, hand already extended. When Dennis takes it, Chris pulls him up flush against his chest.

"Now we can take this to the bedroom—" he starts, matching Chris's wide grin.

Two distinct buzzes cut through the room—one sharp and high, the other lower and longer.

They both turn to look at their phones lighting up on the desk, screens casting twin glows, harsh against the warm overhead lighting.

Dennis lunges back for his phone, snatching it up to read the new message:

Good. Board meeting tomorrow. 8AM sharp.

"Augh!Fuckity fuck fuck fuck!!" Dennis wails, the last thread of his composure snapping like twigs.

"Mmm." Chris's hands slide around his waist, unfazed. "That an invitation?"

He reaches past Dennis for his own phone, his thumb tapping the screen while his other arm stays locked around Dennis’s middle. For just a heartbeat, that embrace tightens before relaxing again.

"That's my cue to sleep." Dennis pulls away, quite, quite ready to burst into tears. He’s too focused on his impending doom to notice the momentary tension in Chris's hold. "Some of us have meetings in the morning."

Chris laughs softly at Dennis’s downturned lips and wobbly eyes and gives him an understanding side-hug.

"I know, baby.” He pecks Dennis on the cheek. “Some of us have site inspections at seven," he sighs with equal disappointment.

Dennis swallows back his instinct to invite Chris to stay. They'd never actually sleep if Chris slept over, and they both need to be functional tomorrow.

Still, the thought of Chris in his bed, even just for sleeping...

Dennis sighs internally, rolling his eyes at himself. Gah! Why is healwaystrying to complicate shit when they're working so well as they are?

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