Page 43 of Collin: Episodes 10-12
“Thank you.” Collin smiled and nodded.
Holden checked the area one more time and moved closer to the seating area.
The receptionist put down the phone and adjusted his glasses again, peering at Collin. “Last door on the right, sir. Mr. Moreau is ready to see you.”
Collin didn’t have to knock on Mr. Moreau’s door. It opened as he approached. Mr. Moreau, looking a little worse for wear, tie slightly askew, smiled widely. “Collin.”
“Sir.” Collin’s smile was automatic as was the burst of relief in his chest. Just seeing his sir brought an abrupt end to his tension. He stepped into the room, and Mr. Moreau shut the door behind them. He crowded Collin up against the wall, slipping a knee between Collin’s thighs and grasping Collin’s biceps in each of his hands. His lips were on Collin’s without preamble, stealing Collin’s breath right out of his mouth.
Collin whimpered into the kiss, bucking with his hips, trying to get closer. Mr. Moreau didn’t let him up until his tongue had thoroughly mapped the inside of Collin’s mouth.
“You had fried rice for lunch.”
Collin flushed. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Moreau chuckled. “Come, Richard said you were tired.” He took Collin’s hand and pulled him deeper into the office over another dark blue rug, this one more ornate, with gold leaf patterns around the edges. “Give me your hat and coat.”
His hat was on the floor where he had dropped it during the kiss. He went back for it, pulling off his coat as he went. Mr. Moreau took both articles from him and put them on an old-fashioned freestanding coat rack where his own hat and coat were already on display. He opened his arms, and Collin unbuttoned his jacket and collapsed against the older man’s chest.
This is good. He closed his eyes, listening to the thump-thump of his sir’s heartbeat through his dark-blue work shirt.
“Better?” Mr. Moreau murmured.
“So much.” Collin sighed. He pulled back. “You look done, too.”
“I wish I was, but there’s a little more to do. Tomorrow will be better, and then we are all taking the weekend off.”
“In college, they always say you can forget about weekends in corporate America.” Collin looked around the room, taking in the real art covered in glass on the walls and the finishing touches like a set of leather chairs to the side and the wood filing cabinets on the opposite wall.
Mr. Moreau tugged Collin back in against his chest. “I’m French, mon petit chaton. We riot for things like holidays and weekends”
“Is it bad that all I can think of is Bastille Day when you say that?”
“A little, but you’ll learn.” Mr. Moreau kissed the top of Collin’s head. “When we say holiday, we aren’t referring to a handful of hours. We mean weeks.”
Collin laughed ruefully. “Yeah, that blows my mind.”
Mr. Moreau sat in his chair. It felt natural to drop to the floor at his feet. But instead of going to his knees, Collin faced Mr. Moreau and sat with his legs to the side, leaning forward with his arms folded over Mr. Moreau’s thighs.
“Are you comfortable?”
Collin nodded. “For now. It feels nice.”
“I need to do a bit more work. Did you bring anything you need to do?”
“Study Mandarin. Read some PDFs.” Collin reached out and pulled his briefcase closer.
“Under my desk, there’s a pillow on a shelf behind the drawer on the right. If you want it, use it.”
Collin glanced under the desk. It was one of those corporate monstrosities with wood paneling to the floor in the front, which would hide the legs and feet of anyone sitting behind it. The space underneath was large enough for a couple of kids to make a blanket fort. He crawled into the space and found the pillow without a problem, feeling around in the dark until he ran into it.
It took a few tries to get situated, but in the end, he put the pillow between Mr. Moreau’s feet and sat on his rear with his back to Mr. Moreau’s chair and his knees drawn up to hold his pad. Mr. Moreau bracketed him in from both sides with his legs, and his hand came down and rested on Collin’s head from time to time.
A soft, floaty feeling of peace sank into Collin’s limbs. His mind cleared, and he sped through his hanzi drills and vocabulary review from Zhou Laoshi with what felt like no effort at all. He was deep into the stack of PDFs before he felt a slight shake on his shoulder.
“Kitten.”
“Sir?”
