Odd

it wouldn't matter that he's creepy and sweaty and awkward, you'd need him. he's so jaded he can't even react appropriately to your advances, he just goes quiet and timid, acting as if you're just toying with him. he's so scared of being picked apart: being seen for the perverted freak he is. your first act of intimacy with him was simply laying your head in his lap, which horrified him. so suddenly he was sharing body heat with another person for what felt like the first time in his life. it wasn't intrusive or malicious. your touch was inviting and safe.

so soft. he couldn't think of anything else besides how soft you were. how gentle and sweet you were with him despite how grotesque he had become. his legs were shaking at the thought as his fingers gripped your hair at the scruff of your neck, not knowing what "gentle" even meant, but needing to hold you. his heart stops, hearing you whimper at his grip on you, worried he's done something horribly wrong. though he expects you to pull away, you bury your face into his lap, feeling how his cock hardens in excitement from such simple touches. He doesn’t know if you’re even aware of what you’re doing, until your mouth brushes up over his clothed cock.

It might be way too forward, but he starts quickly undoing his belt with shaky hands. As he unbuttons his pants, yanking them down, he notices you mouth agape as you pull back, staring as he shyly pulls his hard cock out of his boxers.

Yeah? This what you want? he asks, trying to have an air of dominance in his tone, but ultimately sounding as if he’s pleading for you, but you don’t mind, as you wrap your fingers around his dick, replacing his hand with yours.

He’s freaking out internally, fully aware of the fact that you’re the first person to ever touch him like this. Suddenly, he worries if he smells, or if he was being too forward in exposing himself to you. Wincing, he whines as you grip his cock especially tightly. He throws his head back, ashamed in knowing he shouldn’t like this type of pain. His stomach does a backflip as your mouth hangs open, drawing your tongue out as you tease the tip of his cock.

He feels disgusted, as every part of his body knows his dick is repulsive. That probably no one deserved to see it, let alone put their mouth on it. It twitched and throbbed from the gentle torture. As your lips wrap around his tip, something consumes him, and he grabs your hair, thrusting deep into your mouth on instinct. As you gag, he lets go, horrified. He apologizes profusely, knowing he just ruined everything, but he’s shocked when you grab his hand, guiding it back to your hair, as you push your head back down on his cock.

Please, please, please, please, please, he whispers through sharp breaths.

it makes him want to cry: the way you swallow him hole. devouring him as if it gets you off as it does him. he can't look you in the eyes as you stare up at him as if what you were doing was innocent. you pushed him deep into your throat, reaching his base. he gasps loudly, throwing his head back as he thrusts hard. after only a few slow pumps, he's already exploding for you. he freaks out, pulling his cock out, but it's too late, as he accidentally cums all over your face. his orgasm is so intense, it almost hurts. even after it spurting across your face, his tip is still leaking as he grips his cock tightly.

I'm so sorry, he sobs, feeling the shame settle in.

☽ I'm going to borrow a line from Falsettos: "I was sure growing up, I would live the life my mother assumed I'd live: very Jewish, very middle class, and very straight." It was instilled into Burt from a young age what he'd be: a hardworking, clean-cut man. A husband to a wife. A father to children.

☽ And he was just that for a long while. But his world doesn't spin the way it used to after the split. He can still feel the floors of the old house underneath his feet. The phantom of Mitzi's laugh echoes from the ghost-white walls. The girls are just a phone call away, but their blushing, smiling faces aren't in the next room. Nothing is the same.

☽ And there's you, of course, the new hire at work. Burt's supposed to be watching over you, making sure you don't screw anything up too royally. He's almost angry with you, though. With the way your smile beams and sparkles so gorgeously, the way your smooth voice pours into his ear, the way you carry yourself...you're so effortlessly cool and collected. So simply fun and upbeat. Just handsome and nice to look at. It frustrates him, because he can't have you.

☽ He's supposed to be a professional. He's not supposed to date coworkers. Not to mention how new the concept of being with a man was to him...it nearly frightened him. He was afraid to reach out and grasp the possibility, living in constant dread that it might prick him and drain his blood. What would his family think? His friends? The rest of the world?

☽ But he catches himself. He's always wanted the best for his children. Mitzi gave him these wonderful gifts that he could never repay her for...and what was it that she always encouraged them to do? Follow their hearts? Chase after their dreams? Burt could do the same, if he just plucked up enough courage.

☽ He decides to go with flowers. That's not too overbearing, right? They're a luscious deep red and pink and they smell like the light, airy, puffy clouds of heaven.

☽ Some of his coworkers crack jokes when they see the flowers on his desk. "Looks like someone's back in the game, huh, Burt? Who are those for?"

☽ It isn't until he asks you to stay after work that it all begins to feel impossibly real. The light coat of sweat slicked on his palms. The twist and lurch of his stomach as he grips the flowers tightly. He feels like a crushing teenager again, unable to keep calm when faced with his feelings.

☽ "These are for you, actually." It comes tumbling out in a jumbled, knotted string.

☽ He's unable to read your face for a moment, until a small smile cracks in the corner of your lips. It feels as though a trillion pounds has been lifted from his trembling shoulders. You like them. You like the flowers!