The Unexpected Meeting

Adam leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking as his weight shifted. Motes danced in the light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling window behind him; the same light shone through his dark blonde hair, leaving him just slightly warmer than was really comfortable, but not warm enough to overcome the sucking lethargy that kept him from getting up to dim the shade.

He sighed in boredom, and stretched his arms above his head, flexing them against his rolled-up sleeves. His eyelids flicked shut, and his head tipped back into the sunlight, warmth spilling across his throat. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back, and then swiped through the light sweat on the back of his neck. He sighed again, brushing his hand on his slacks.

Shoving back from his dark wood desk, Adam groaned and pulled himself up, walking to the front of his office, past large built-in bookshelves filled with books he'd never read and nicknacks he'd never purchased. The front of the office possessed the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the back, and looked out onto the open floor plan office in the center of the floor. He breathed a sigh of relief as he moved out of the sun, and swiped a finger across the thermostat, dropping the temperature by a few degrees.

Adam leaned a hand against the door jamb and looked over the office with languid interest. The early afternoon sun that had so rudely aggressed the back of his own neck hadn't found an angle into the main room yet, but the ambient light from the edge offices still met with the lights nestled in the high ceilings to provide a surprisingly bright atmosphere. Plants and various couches placed strategically at corners and edges of work zones lent a sense of relaxation, while wood and dark metal partitions framed work areas, allowing for focus and privacy when needed. Adam's first order of business on joining the company had been to complement the interior facilities team on their choice of layout and design.

Adam's eyes drifted across the room, before latching onto a trio of men walking his way. The man in the middle, Marcus, was flanked by the usual cronies: a couple of shorter men whose names Adam rarely remembered.

Kyle and Rick? Kevin and Ryan? Meh.

Marcus was, as usual, laughing loudly—likely at his own tone-deaf joke, Adam's mind contributed savagely—and jostling the other two. Adam watched with cynical interest.

The trio slowed as they neared the cubical just to the right of Adam's office, and Adam's hackles rose as Marcus shushed the other two and brushed his dark hair out of his face. Adam shoved himself away from the door jamb, a wary readiness settling over his broad shoulders.

The cubical in question belonged to Miles, one of the web coders for the company. Miles, while generally friendly and personable when among coworkers, tended to be on the quiet side, and generally kept to himself in the office. Adam ran into him periodically in the kitchen when grabbing coffee or in the copy room; while they'd had a couple brief, if friendly conversations, they had never really interacted much on a personal level. Aside from hearing from upper management that Miles had a private disability and should be allowed to work on his own for most projects, Adam didn't really know much about him. A sign on Miles' cubicle read, "Please knock lightly on the wall and announce yourself before entering," which

had

struck Adam as a little strange—though not particularly concerning—when he first noticed it.

As Adam watched, Marcus flattened himself against the side of the cubicle, and slowly moved closer to the gap in the partition, motioning again to the other two for silence. An immediate flare of concern flooded down the back of Adam's neck, and he grabbed for the door while keeping his gaze locked on Marcus. He stumbled as his hand slid off the handle, setting him slightly off balance. He cursed lightly and grabbed for the handle again, this time looking as he wrenched at the cool metal. Whipping the door open, he spun to the right just in time to hear an echoing "BOO!" ring through the office.

—

"BOO!"

Miles' vision darkened briefly as cold fear shot through his slight frame, warring with warmth, leaving him trembling and swaying.

"KURT," came the harsh bark of his sixth-grade teacher's voice. "What in the HELL do you think you're doing?" she nearly shrieked, anger overwhelming her usually unflappable composure.

Miles squeezed his eyes shut, his heart dropping out from under him as his shaken mind returned to him. He appreciated his teacher's concern, but it was too late. The damage was done. His eyes closed tight, he clenched his fists together as he focused on regaining muscular control.

Time slowed. His throat clenched tight in hot, wrenching shame.

His ears could hear the things going on around him. A ringing tone hung over the sound of the other students laughing and gasping, his teacher's outraged yells, and chairs scraping as others stood up to see; but nothing registered to him over the tell-tale sounds of his humiliation: his heart thundering in his ears, trying to drown out the sound of pee hissing into his pants.

—

Adam's eyes flew open in outrage as Marcus fell away from the cubicle entryway, already cackling as a strangled yelp came from behind the partition. A head with messy brown hair popped up from behind the wall, but stayed facing away from Adam as he stomped toward the three men outside the gap in the partition. The two cronies spotted him first, and their faces paled at the look on his own.

They made as if to turn, but a dark growl of "Don't you

fucking

think about it," from Adam stopped them cold. Marcus' head whipped up toward Adam, and he too paled.

"Woah, boss, I was—"

"Shut. Up." Adam growled again, a white-knuckled fist moving up reflexively. He wrestled control of himself back, and lowered his hand. "All three of you. In my office. NOW."

All three men blanched visibly at the enraged look on Adam's face. One after another, they scrambled past him as he stood just short of the cubicle entrance. A couple of curious coworkers had peeked their heads around corners and over partitions; Adam waved them all away until spotting his favorite member of HR, Annie. She was trying to see past her voluminous black curls and over the back of a couch in the sitting area right outside his office. He took a quick moment of charades to motion a baseball "out" and writing on a piece of paper before motioning at the three men slinking into his office and giving her a knowing look. She seemed to get it. He'd deal with it later, regardless.

With a touch of trepidation, Adam turned toward the cubicle and knocked lightly.

"Uhm, it's Adam. Are you ok, Miles?" he murmured.

Silence.

"Miles, I need to know if you're alright. I'm coming in."

A strangled "No!" came a moment too late as Adam rounded the edge of the wall. Adam immediately whirled around, but not before the image burned into his mind: Miles' arm stretching out to steady himself as he half-stumbled on his office chair, shoving it against the partition, while his other hand desperately pressed against the soaked crotch of his jeans, dark swaths of wet down the inside of his legs and in a circle under his feet.

"Oh my god, Miles, I⁠— I'm so⁠— I shouldn't⁠—" Adam stammered. In what felt like a bizarre moment of excited insanity, he felt a surge into his lower belly, and a tightening in his own crotch. He blushed slightly, glad that he was facing away from Miles.

What the hell is going on with me?

Miles' quiet moan interrupted Adam's thoughts as his heart thumped in his ear. Then what sounded like a soft sob. Adam peeked slightly over his shoulder.

"Miles... Are you, ah⁠—" He turned his shoulder a little more, and saw the younger man sitting in the chair, his face buried in his hands. "Are you ok?"

A muffled and pained, "No," came from the hands as Adam took stock. Miles had clearly pissed in his pants. A large, wet circle had formed on the light blue carpet, punctuated with drips between the chair and the spot in front of the work station. The chair had met a similar, if less saturated fate. His medium-dye jeans showed the wetness clearly. Adam could only see Miles' lower legs, but even his shoes were wet from the accident.

Adam's throat constricted in sympathy. "Oh, bud, I⁠—" he began, but then sank into silence. Once again, as he looked at the young man sitting in shame, Adam's crotch began to tighten. He felt his cock slide to the left and down, pushing against the constricting fabric of his underwear. His foreskin felt tight and sweaty around his dick as it slowly revealed the tip of his sensitive glans. He had always been a grower, not a shower, so the trunks had a little extra space, but not

that

much. Confused panic shifted through his mind; and yet, he was surprised to catch himself unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"Here, Miles, take this," he said, pulling the shirt away from his body and swinging it toward the defeated form of his coworker, and in the same motion shoving his unruly penis down. "Sorry about the um, sweat," he said with a grimace, noticing the large spot on the fabric where his back had pressed into the leather chair in his overheated office.

Miles' face swung up, and his gaze moved lightly back and forth in a sort of incredulous and questioning anguish.

"Oh." Adam said, feeling stupid. "Sorry. Again. I mean⁠—." He rubbed the side of his face in self-exasperation with his left hand, pulling at his short beard, while his right hand still gripped his shirt. "Let's get you cleaned up before people start wondering more about what's going on." Miles' face shifted to confused concern, and Adam chided himself mentally. "My badge lets me into the exec bathroom," Adam said, attempting to salvage his awkward offer of assistance.

Adam watched the other man's face. Miles' expression warred between shame and fear as the realization dawned on him that his pissed pants might, at any moment, be seen by more coworkers. He grabbed the shirt, hurriedly pulling it around his waist. Adam's face flushed slightly as the young man glanced at his naked torso and raised his eyebrows. He'd never been much for working out, but he managed to keep his figure to a light layer of fat on top of a naturally muscular frame. The effect was a soft, but bulky frame that made it mildly infuriating to find well-fitted clothing. "It's fine, let's go," Adam said with another blush, turning and surreptitiously shoving again at his chubbed cock.

His heartbeat sped even more as he moved into the hallway. He turned over his shoulder again and absentmindedly offered his hand, which Miles⁠—to Adam's self-induced shock and alarm⁠—took. Another flare of excitement sunk into Adam's abdomen, and his cock pulsed, shoving slightly at his slacks. At this point,

he

was risking being seen in this state just as much as Miles was. He pulled Miles into the hallway behind him, and began powerwalking past the partitions, letting the younger man's hand fall from his.

He looked out of the corner of his eye at the office next to his, and breathed a sigh of relief on seeing the phone cord draped over the back of the leather chair that faced away from them. His almost full erection, pressing tighter and tighter against the front of his slacks, rubbed up and down as his legs pumped.

Faster...

The two men sailed past the startled face of one of the company's graphic designers, her eyes briefly flaring at the sight of the half-naked manager, before they moved out of view, continuing down the hall. Adam whipped his badge away from the reel on his belt loop and tapped it against a black reader. At the beep of acceptance, he grabbed Miles' hand again and pulled him into the bathroom. The young man stumbled into him, his whole body pressing against him as he slid through the doorway. Some part of Miles' body—Adam wasn't sure which⁠—pressed directly on his cock, and his hand brushed the cooling wetness of Miles' pissed jeans. Both men grunted, and Adam cursed inwardly, praying that Miles hadn't heard the feral (

and completely confusing?)

desire in his voice.

Shoving the door shut behind them, Adam threw the deadbolt and briefly let his forehead thump forward onto the cool metal, his breathing loud.

"I am so... so sorry," came the quiet murmur from behind him.

"Ah, Jesus, Miles," Adam said with a groan, swinging back around to face the man. "You have

nothing

to be sorry about." He ran his rand back through his hair. "If anything..." Adam trailed off. Miles' head hung heavy, staring at the floor. Adam's shirt had fallen from his waist onto the tiled floor. The front of Miles' button-up was soaked where it had pressed against his pissed jeans. "Was that... Was that the disability that management⁠—wait, I'm sorry. That's not something I have the right to ask; I'm sorry." Adam winced and clamped his mouth shut. He'd never apologized so many times in a single minute in his life.

Welp, this is going well.

Miles sighed deeply and mumbled, "It's ok. Yeah. That's it." Shame and anguish dripped from his voice. "I, um. I have some kind of hair trigger on being startled or scared. Had it as long as I can remember. I just..." Miles motioned bleakly with a dismissive wave down at his pants and to the tile floor.

Adam blanched sympathetically and whispered, "Christ..." In his trunks, his cock gave a pulse again, pressing harder against his fly. The inside of his foreskin felt slick. "C'mere, there's a shower around the corner," he said, using every ounce of willpower to attempt to force his dick back to where it belonged.

Miles mumbled again, "I should⁠— I should just go home. I— I can't come back here..."

Adam interrupted, "Hey, Miles. Come on now, don't talk like that." He stepped closer. "It's fine, literally no one saw you," he said, placing his hand on the younger man's arm and rubbing it once. "And even if they did, no one here is gonna say anything. Aside from those three fuckheads, I guess. But they are so far beyond fired. They're gonna be lucky if they don't end up in court over this." Miles' face turned up slightly at that. "Honestly, I should have gotten rid of them a long time ago. Actually—" he said, clearing his throat, "Yeah, not things I should say to... Ugh, nevermind. Sorry. Again." He pressed his fingers against his forehead, squinting his eyes shut, and then shook his head dismissively, mentally washing his hands of the situation.

"Come on. I've got a pair of sweats and a t-shirt in my office that I use on the rare occasion I work out, and you can change into those after you get clean. But you've gotta get in the shower."

Miles' gaze had shifted down, and seemed to linger at a spot lower on Adam's body, his eyes narrowing slightly, and Adam stiffened in fear, feeling a certain

other

stiffness flex visibly. He quickly turned and went around the corner, into the main area of the bathroom, motioning for Miles to follow, and praying that the programmer had been looking at something other than...

well

. The dark navy walls, soft lighting, and rich grey marble tiles in the private bathroom lent a luxe feeling to the room, as did the dark porcelain of the fixtures. The shower descended directly from the ceiling in a corner with two glass walls, the head a large square that looked like it would provide a wide, even spray.

Adam turned to face Miles, who had opened the glass paned door of the shower and moved to stand just under the shower head. Miles had unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a soft belly and lightly muscled chest with a dusting of brown hair. A trail of thicker hair led down his belly and into his jeans in a way that made Adam swallow heavily and his breath quicken. Miles' head hung slightly again; hesitantly, he said, "I, uh. I still have to go." A pause. "Bad."

And with that, Adam's cock went rock hard in his pants, foreskin pulling away from his glans.

What did he just say? Did he?

Adam's mouth was dry. "You," he croaked. "You ah⁠—" A drip a precum hit his trunks. He felt like his brain was both overloaded and completely vacant simultaneously, chills running up and down his arms, causing his arm hair to stand on end. He took an involuntary step closer to Miles.

Adam heard a soft hiss, and the patter of liquid on the tile, as he watched the huge damp spot on the younger man's jeans get darker, piss leaving a wet shine on the fabric.

"Shit," Miles said tightly, fumbling slowly with his fly as piss dripped from his jeans and onto the textured slate floor of the shower.

"Here, I..." Adam tried, moving through the door and into the shower. His hand brushed Miles' trembling hands away from his pants, and he deftly flipped open the button of Miles' jeans, pulling the zipper and the jeans slightly down together. His finger brushed the wet fly of the jeans, and he felt blood surge into his abdomen, pushing his cock even harder against the fabric confines of his underwear. Freed of the jeans, Miles' soft, white cotton underwear no longer kept the stream of piss contained, and the warm liquid poured in a loose arc out of the tented fabric and onto the floor, splashing Adam's feet as Miles wet his pants. Miles' dick slowly grew as he peed, pressing harder against the saturated fabric, his arousal clear.

Trembling a bit himself, Adam reached forward with a hand, toward the stream of piss. He looked up, into the anguished, but aroused eyes of the younger man. Miles gave the barest of nods, biting his lower lip and squeezing his eyes shut. Adam's hand brushed the stream, connecting with the sheer, wet fabric for only the briefest instant, piss cascading over his fingers, and felt a sudden, white hot heat shoot through his cock. "I⁠— oh shit," he stammered out, as his foreskin became impossibly tight, and his vision shimmered. His eyes snapped shut as the pressure of his impending orgasm quickly rose. He fought it for a second, trying to grip the feeling with his muscles and hold it back, but was quickly overwhelmed as an impossibly powerful pulse of cum roiled through his shaft and shot into his pants. He let out a sound halfway between a growl and a whimper, and tore desperately at the button on his slacks, managing to free it just as the second shot exploded into his trunks.

Adam moaned, and barely managed to whip his cock out of his underwear, fist clenched around it, before the next three ropes of hot cum erupted, shooting straight onto Miles' still-clothed and pissing cock. Successive waves of pleasure slowly pulsed through him as the shots slowed, cum dripping off the end of his cock and mixing with the warm piss flowing into the drain.

Adam's eyes fluttered open, but his breathing remained ragged. With a deft movement, he wiped the cum dripping down his hand and glans onto his shaft, and began roughly stroking himself. Miles' piss finally slowed to a stop.

"Didn't you just...?" Miles said, confusion on his face.

Adam grinned lasciviously and watched as Miles' cock jumped against the soaked fabric of his underwear. "I can usually cum a few times, actually," he said. Sliding one finger up his shaft, he swiped a bit of cum from the end of his dick and swirled it around his glans, under his tightly stretched foreskin. He moaned deeply, feeling another orgasm building. Reaching out his other hand, he pressed it against Miles' heated bulge, pressing against the young man's cut cock as it pushed out of his waistband.

With another deep moan, Adam jerked his foreskin back and shot another rope of cum, this time onto Miles' soft belly. Taking a step forward as the next pulse of pleasure shot along his cock, Adam closed his eyes and desperately kissed Miles, slipping his tongue between Miles' lips. His dick pressed directly against Miles' wet underwear as jets of cum sprayed between them. He lightly bit Miles' lower lip, and moaned into his mouth. He felt Miles reach between them and begin rubbing at his own dick through the piss and cum-covered fabric of his underwear. Adam's second orgasm finally ground to a halt as the last small wave of cum spilled from the end of his cock.