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^^^^noah+morris^^^^

Morris tugged the turtleneck of his coat higher to hide his jaw from view. His eyes only peeked at the high heels and dress shoes tapping the reflective floor on their way towards the edges of his vision.

"Morris Kentson!"

He closed his eyes, tightened the grip on his briefcase with a squeak and did a spin. "Mphh-hfhh-mm..."

Heather laughed loudly and leant over her desk. The motion caused her long, heavy curls to slip from her back to her chest, over the tight white dress shirt, all buttoned up.

"Don't tell me you forgot to shave four days in a row again..."

She was just joking, but Morris eyes widened in realization. He did forget to shave that morning. Or comb his hair for that matter. It was just, he's been absent-minded since yesterday.

"Mpff-fpfffh-hh-hh."

"Hah?" she cocked her head.

"It's exactly the case..."

Heather's eyelids approached each other as she pondered, eyes accurately emphasized by black eyeliner and fake lashes. She let her full lips stretch into a smile and rose from her chair.

She leaned forwards propped on a long slender arm and raised her other, keeping it midair. Morris maintained eye-contact from above his turtleneck, breathing steady.

A long nail tapped the turtleneck, sliding along its rim. Only Morris was close enough to hear the sound of it scratch the thick material, and it made him gulp dryly.

She tugged it down.

Morris closed his eyes and snapped his head to the side in an melodramatic manner. The same nail as before scratched the stubble of his chin as it moved his head frontwards.

Her big lips parted at the middle, lines appearing under her cheekbones.

It was then than Morris stopped to ponder where he and Heather had left off. She was his date back at the Valentine's party, but all they did was act flirty as always. Would she slap him?

She stepped backwards, heels clicking loudly, dark eyes unmistakably fixed on him as she rounded the reception desk.

"Darling..." Morris raised a palm, only for her to gently take his hand and move it down, by his hip. She bent her long neck and opened her mouth, approaching.

Once she was too close, Morris glanced over her shoulder at the people that somehow found the time to stop and stare.

The rouged little pillows pressed into his jaw, next to the hickey from Noah, and then... and then got on forming another one.

Morris took a ragged breath and raised his shoulder to no avail, for she placed a steady hand on it and lowered it. He clenched his teeth and coughed through his nose, the pain real. Not that the previous love mark ever stopped hurting even at the softest touch.

She finished up with a 'plop' and spun around, her hair slapping Morris in the face before she left. The man raised a shaky hand to touch the abused skin and flinched.

He raised his gaze to meet the gawks of men, quarter of which were flipping him off, and stares of women, all of which were raising an eyebrow.

Morris raised his turtleneck, lowered his head, and hurried to the elevator.

---

He entered the waiting room to his office with long strides, hurriedly knocking the tiny decorations over by holding out an arm.

"Morning Detective Gadget." Rae murmured, eying his coat.

Morris panted, glancing at the door. "Nae, tell me your womanly secrets."

"No, periods aren't like peeing blood. It's more like occasionally cumming but red and smelly."

Morris actually bent over, hand on her desk, to gag dryly. He then covered his mouth with an elbow and looked to the side, taking deep breaths.

"Can I just-" he whispered. "Move on with the conversation as though you didn't..."

"Morning Detective Gadget."

"Morning Nae would you please let me know what is the deal with women and hickeys?" he exposed his. "They kept acting weird. Even the cleaning lady. She did the bent down as she reached for her gross sponge."

Rae was quiet. She kept her eyes on the two hickeys as she absent-mindedly reached up to fumble with the v collar of her shirt, parting it.

Morris's eyes widened and he jumped away from her desk.

"Ah, well." she murmured. "I wouldn't know, but if I were to guess I'd say it's something to do with the... primitive jealousy of acknowledging there's some other female with the alpha potential to mark a male that could've been yours."

Morris shook his head upon watching her grip her own neck.

"Or just..." her eyebrow twitched. "Eve's sin bestowed upon us by hundreds generations' blood. The mean to just... take that apple." her eyes lowered an inch. "Adam's apple?"

Morris covered his Adam's apple. "Stay away from me. No! No!"

-----

Morris was afraid to move. It would cause the three dark bruises to spill pain in unison. The grandfather clock ticked away in its low tone while he signed papers, back straight and eyes rolled down.

The door clicked open.

His chair rattled backwards as he hid his head in his arms.

"There are people waiting."

Rae left. Morris peeked at the door and wearily stood up. One step and he stumbled into the desk, another step and he hit the floor lamp by it.

He made it to the door in one piece and ran a hand through his hair, scratched his stubble and straightened his shirt. He'd raise its collar but... fashion.

Only his eyes exited the safety of his office and then closed with a sigh of relief.

There was sweet Carmen. Old, shy, sweet Carmen, the secretary of one of his coworkers. Probably there to visit Morris and give him cookies.

"Hello Carmen, enter."

She walked up to him with a smile, clutching her tiny rectangular purse. Her grey hair was in a very loose bun, strands swaying with her slow movements. The moment she passed the doorstep her smile slid right off, her heavy cheeks slumping down.

"Is that... is that the Estée Lauder Signature Hydra Lustre Lipstick on your jaw?" her trembling voice asked.

Morris chuckled strained, trying to rub it off with the hand that wasn't holding the door open.

"Hehe, you wouldn't believe the day I had..." he let down his arm. "... ... ..." his Adam's apple trembled with the urge to gulp. "... ... no..."

"No that's fine just laugh some more." Morris murmured.

Victor took his advice with open arms, bending over despite getting in the way of passing people. Don't think it meant his librarian-laughter got any louder than a whisper, it remained like a long snicker you'd hear in the distance at night.

They just met in front of the coffee place they meant to enter. Morris glanced at all the tiny flower pots hanged by the edge of the terrace's roof.

"Slapping that knee must put it to strain, let's take a seat."

They did, and Victor kept deflating like a stupid balloon. When the waitress approached only to start nibbling on her pencil, Victor got halfway off the terrace, bent over the railing laughing.

"I'll have a white coffee." Morris murmured. "He'll have a green tea."

Victor hated green teas. Morris hated Victor.

Six minutes later and Morris was eying the man's bow-tie (he still despised bow-ties) wondering if he were to twist it enough times and let go, would Victor be sent flying?

"Awww... awwwww..." Victor wiped an eye. "Jus- jus' talk." he waved at the marks.

There was no way around it: anything Morris could possibly say would lead the man into another fit, so he just up and said it.

"Noah Vinson blew me."

The waitress chose that moment to come back and bring their orders. Morris watched his friend from behind the tray.

Victor had an arm on the table and was propped on his other, covering his mouth. His eyebrows knitted together and his eyes got instantly wet, tears accumulating into tiny spheres before rolling down his cheeks.

Morris murmured a thank you to the waitress and then kept quiet.

Victor blinked heavily and used the sleeves of his green thermal shirt to dry his eyes, mouth close tight. He took a shaky breath and straightened his back, popped his neck left and right. His hands found one another over the table's glass top, fiddling fingers reflecting in it clearly.

"Go on. Tell me how-" his torso contorted violently. "Jus-" he coughed into a fist, shoulders slumping down. "I'm so sorry-" and then he vomited laughter.

---

"I... see." Victor murmured.

Morris looked up from his wristwatch. The lunch break was nearly over by the time he finished explaining it all. Victor's crude sense of humor at fault.

The man closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with the tips of his slim fingers. "That's... fine." he shrugged, barely parting his eyelids. "I, um. Yes. It's all good."

Morris kept flicking the cup of white coffee with his nails. "Huh."

"Listen. It's life. You're so very conflicted because you never really took into consideration this aspect of sexual approach."

Morris blinked slowly.

"It's just... gay, bisexual are terms that feel heavy on the tongue merely because of the concepts and prejudice that come along with the thought of them. Really they're just..." he arched his back and waved a hand. "If it helps, you mustn't even label it. You mustn't even think about it at all really. Keep going about your days knowing there's this one guy that just clicked particularly well with you."

Morris nodded. "And sucked my dick."

Victor took a sip of his tea. "And did the dick a lick indeed."

Morris laughed before he could catch himself.

"Thanks. Seriously, I... it's just funny now that I look at it." Morris murmured, lowering down the chair to sprawl his legs. He felt like a ghost. "But I think I'm looking for something... something more than just a funny happening. I-" he scoffed and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He is corrrrupted. He is young and hormonal. We're not on the same page about this."

Victor sketched a smile. "Rarely are hopeless romantics on the same page with anyone but equally hopeless romantics."

Morris peeked at him. "I want to hold his hand, Victor."

The man supported his head between his palms, covering the upper half. "Just imagine the level of testosterone in a homosexual relationship, Morris. I'm not saying all gay couples are perverts but they are bound to be more eccentric than the straight ones. Doesn't mean he's in it only for that stuff."

Victor glanced up. "Moments after I first confessed to Vincent I was on top of him ready to push all limits."

Morris toyed with his tie, pushing himself up and closer to his friend. "Really?"

Victor nodded. "He agreed to let me kiss him as to get it out of my system. But when I got the taste of it, I was... gone." he scoffed.

Morris raised his head, lowered it, raised it and then nodded. "So then... Should I just let him rape me."

"Um. To begin with, tell me what you want."

Morris approached his cup of white coffee, circling it with a finger. The surface of the liquid trembled lightly, only for Morris to confirm its fears by taking a sip.

He let the warm taste settled over his tongue before gulping. "I want... I mean he-"

"No need to justify. What do you want?"

"I want to... spend more time with him. Talk for hours about his belief in rat conspiracies. Watch him, I want to just look at him a lot. And I mean a lot. He is so outstanding! And maybe, if by the Gods he's in a good mood, hold his hand." he took a pack of sugar and toyed with it. "n' other stuff... His, his, his, this is weird."

Victor shrugged tiny, eyes half closed and his smile easy. "So you do want a relationship with him."

"It would never... He's not the kind."

"Anyone is the kind unless they're damaged." Victor suggested. "There must be something in his past that makes him act that way."

"His creepy, unstable, ugly, insomniac friend kept nagging him about some past crush."

"Yes, could be it. Must be tough being surrounded only by people that constantly dissect you with their gaze. He won't let himself... trust they're in it for who he truly is. I suppose."

"Well I won't pretend I'm not awestruck by it! He is as gorgeous as he is snarky and clever and weird..."

"Say that to him."

"Bull..."

Victor grinned. "Thought HR was supposed to have their way with words."

"See now you're just back at making fun of me."

"I never stopped. My brain has a separate section entirely dedicated to coming up with one-liners for you."

"And I have a certain part of my body entirely dedicated to having you bite it."

Victor didn't hesitate a second before getting up and planting himself on the chair next to Morris.

"Butt. I meant butt you chunky bastard!" Morris tried to lean away but Victor was gripping his tie. In fear of having the material ruined, Morris gave up and succumbed into the arms of shame and objectification.

That hickey gave him thoughts. Feeling stubble rub against his own put his gears in motion big time, and the whole way back to work he couldn't help but wonder how far the horizon of this new-found curiosity went.

To be or not to be... bisexual. That is the question.

Let's play something. I dunno just something. Tag you're it! Tag whoever in the comments. No pushing, that's r00d.

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