Omelette and Eggs... by JM Cartwright

Today is Easter Sunday, which is meaningful to a great many people around the world. It's also the time of Passover, when Jews are encouraged to welcome strangers to the holiday table. On Chicks & Dicks it is also the day when we thank our visitors and followers for supporting our blog, and a s a token of our appreciation I wrote an Easter flashfic. 

My name is JM Cartwright, and I'm the newest member of Chicks & Dicks. Taylor, LC, Anne and Thorny have welcomed me with open arms. Now I offer this Easter surprise to all of you, as my effort for the GFY/OFY theme this month. I have a snarky sense of humor, which I think you'll see with this piece. I really can't help myself. If you haven't read my books, this will help you get to know me.

I had fun just writing the title of the flashfic, let alone the story. This piece started last summer, I think, as a ficlet in response to prompts from one of my readers, and it seemed perfect to expand for this Easter weekend. Um, I apparently don't know the meaning of the word flashfic, since my effort is about 4,000 words. I hope you enjoy it - and I hope you'll let us know what you think. 

If You Want To Make An Omelette, You've Got To Break Some Eggs

With my thanks to Thorny, who had a marvelous idea.

They'd just gotten the delivery finished in time. It was the Friday of Easter weekend, when a lot of companies closed down. In fact, the large corporate offices of Midwest Industries had been emptying out even as Tristan's delivery guys were unloading the chairman's new, custom-made desk.

Tristan stood ten feet from that desk, running his gaze over the satin finish. The Honduras Mahogany wood piece was oversized and more than filled the space along the windows of the head honcho's office. The late afternoon sunlight dappled the surface, and he frowned as he spotted a smudge near the edge. Was that a scratch? "Shit."

Moving quickly, he reached across it and rubbed an elbow along the mark. His soft cotton button-down thankfully removed what turned out to be a bit of finishing oil. Tristan blew out a sigh of relief. "Always going overboard." He mumbled the words as he cleaned up the excess. Tristan did have a tendency to overdo it when he was completing a special piece. "Not that that's a bad thing," he consoled himself.

"Stay right there. Don't move a muscle."

The throaty words froze him in place. "Huh?" Was that...?

His back was to the door of the large executive suite and he cranked his head around just enough to see who was standing behind him. Oh, God. It was James Halford Harrington, the chairman of the board of Midwest Industries. Tristan gulped, not sure if he should really remain bent over the desk, looking like -- well, looking like an idiot. At that thought, he straightened sharply.

Making a tsking noise, Hayes strolled forward, running his steely gaze over Tristan's jeans and yellow shirt.

Those gray eyes fascinated Tristan. They had from the beginning, which was kind of troubling. Uh. Dudes didn't really check out other dudes' eyes, right? Tristan made himself meet Harrington's gaze again. The black brows above always seemed to have a sardonic arch to them and to Tristan the man just oozed confidence and charisma.

"Pity. I was hoping you'd continue to pose for me."

Man. Tristan could listen to Hayes read the telephone book; that's how smooth that voice was. "You sound kind of like that British actor who was in Pirates. Um, well except that you don't have an accent." He stopped as he processed Harrington's comment. "Wait. What? What did you just say?"

"I do believe you heard me, Tristan."

Gulping, Tristan backed up as Hayes stepped close.

"Oh, I do so love the pursuit. I've had my eye on you for several months now. From the time you first came to discuss my new desk, I've strategized this moment. You're so meticulous about your woodworking, so careful in your planning and execution." Hayes backed Tristan up against the office wall, and Tristan could feel the animal heat of the man through the navy wool suit. "Now it's my time. You make me burn."

"Mr. Harrington. Dude." Tristan held up a hand, palm out. "Um.  You're in my bubble."

With a husky chuckle, Harrington pressed his left palm against the wood-paneled wall beside Tristan's head and slid the other into his pants pocket.

The whole office was like some mansions Tristan had seen in movies, and he'd felt out of his element from the first time he'd visited. That had been about four months before, at the initial meeting they'd held to plan Harrington's custom desk. "Um. Mr. Harrington." Tristan inched closer to the wall as Harrington leaned in. Their noses were about five inches apart. "Hey. I'm not, um, you know -- well, I guess maybe you are but I, I don't--"

Shit. How did he put a stop to this without pissing off the biggest customer he'd ever had? Once it became known that Tristan's Hardwood was the creator of Harrington's new baby, his phone would ring off the hook. He glanced desperately from side to side.

"Oh, you don't want to offend your newest customer, do you?"

Was Harrington a mind reader? Tristan's eyes widened. "I'm not gay!" he blurted. "I'm sorry. I kind of wish I was." There. That should soften the blow, right?  

Harrington's sleek brows dropped into a severe frown as he straightened. "What? Of course you're gay. Or for damned sure bi." He edged backward from Tristan's personal space, looming solid and large as he planted his feet shoulder-width apart.

"I'm not." Tristan had control of himself again. He laid a hand on the other man's chest, intending to push Harrington farther away.

"Then why have you been twitching that delightful ass of yours in my direction for the last four months?" Harrington sounded... ticked?

"Dude, I haven't!" Tristan was aghast. "I don't do that. Not even for chicks." How the hell did he get into these messes?

"You most certainly have. And what about the bashful looks and the blushes you've been giving me?"  

Tristan's mouth opened. "What?"

"Mm-hmm." Harrington ran one long finger along the placket of Tristan's shirt. "I do love a man in a jeans and a button-down." He braced himself with his arm again, leaning forward to sniff delicately at Tristan's neck. "What is that scent? I notice it every time you're around."

Tristan swore he felt the faintest kiss on his jaw before Harrington pulled back. "Dude. I do not wear cologne." Cologne was for -- for metrosexuals, wasn't it? "And stop that."

Harrington ignored the command. "Then it must be all you. Pheromones."

Tristan was shocked to feel Harrington's tongue on his throat, running up to his earlobe. He held his breath, then groaned when Harrington actually nibbled on his ear. His hands came up reflexively to push at the broad shoulders, sliding under Harrington's open suit jacket. "God! What are you do--" A flash of heat burst in his belly, tingling as the chairman murmured and moved to Tristan's other ear.

"You're so sweet; so sexy. You're kidding yourself if you think you're straight." Harrington paused to meet Tristan's gaze. "There are so many possibilities in this world. Why deny yourself?"

The dark grey eyes were so compelling. Tristan bit his lip as thoughts raced through his head. Scanning the tough, uncompromising features of one of the most powerful men in the business world, he couldn't figure out how to respond.

"No, no. Don't shake your head." Harrington's hand came up to cup Tristan's jaw.

Tristan had even realized he was doing so.

"These golden-brown eyes of yours kill me, did you know that?" They're so unusual." The words were accompanied by another kiss, this time to the corner of his eye. "Look at me."

Meeting Harrington's gaze one more time, Tristan was overwhelmed by the strange feelings chasing around inside. He'd never even considered that men might be attractive. Well, maybe back in college... "Mr. Harrington..."

"It's James."

"James. You can't -- you can't just kiss me."

Harrington kissed him again, this time a real kiss. Tristan groaned, afraid and excited at the same time. The feeling of another man's mouth on his own, the pressure to part his lips, open himself to an aggressor, was all so strange, so invasive, so... thrilling.

Helpless to do anything else, he responded, his tongue pushing forward, tangling with Harrington's. Their noses bumped, their teeth clicked but Tristan was caught up in the heat, the wetness, the -- oh, my God -- the hardened cock pressing against his own.

His head banged the wall when he jerked it back. "Fuck! Harrington, you've gotta stop." Desperate to escape the crazy feelings bouncing around inside, Tristan shoved Harrington away. When the other man stumbled, Tristan took advantage and lunged past. The toe of his shoe caught on the carpet and he almost took a header, catching himself on the broad desktop. His hands slid on the polished surface and he almost did a face-plant. "Shit!"

Harrington covered him from behind before he could push upright.

"I believe this is where I came in."

Frustrated, scared and -- goddamn it -- getting a hard-on, Tristan blew out an exasperated breath. "What the fuck?"

"Oh, I intend to get to that. Trust me. I didn't think you were ready for that just now, though." Harrington's rumbly whisper was in his ear. "I was going to start with something a bit simpler."

Tristan breathed in sharply when Harrington stood up behind him, feeling a hard cock push into the cleft of his ass. "God." A long arm reached over his shoulder and something was dropped onto the desk, clicking as it hit the wood. He canted his head to the side, trying to see, then pushed himself up. He stopped when he hit Harrington's chest and he once again felt Harrington's dick nudging him. Breathing rapidly, he frowned as he tried to figure out what he was seeing. "Is that a... necklace?"

"Not exactly."

"Are those Easter eggs?" They were about a fifth of the size of real eggs but the pastel-colors and cone shapes sure looked like it.

Harrington chuckled. It sounded kind of diabolical. "Well, I was trying to figure out how I was going to approach you. I've been thinking about it quite a bit the last few weeks."

Tristan didn't know whether to be proud or afraid.

"When I saw these in the Eden catalog, I just had to have them. Especially when you told me you'd be delivering Easter weekend. I thought they'd be perfect for you."

Tristan swallowed. He had an idea of just what kind of catalog that was. Not that he hadn't had his share of stroke sessions with publications like that, he'd just never actually bought anything from a sex shop.

"I'm not sure I want to know but what... just what are they?"

Harrington pushed against Tristan's ass again, this time rubbing meaningfully. "Anal beads."

"Fuck." Tristan's hole clenched involuntarily. "You've got to be kidding."

"Oh, I'm most definitely serious. And you're going to love it. I promise." Harrington slid his hand down Tristan's arm, encircling one wrist and tugging.  "Come here."

Reluctant but unwilling to shrug Harrington off -- and completely unwilling to acknowledge the reasons why -- Tristan allowed himself to be turned around to face the chairman. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to make you feel really, really good."

Harrington stopped to lock his office door, then headed toward a second paneled door in the far corner.

Tristan followed closely, wrist still imprisoned. "I'm not so sure about this." His eyes widened. "Holy sh--. Nice bathroom, Mr., um, James." The walls were tiled in twelve-inch copper-grained marble squares and if Tristan wasn't mistaken, that was Italian travertine on the floor and in the five-foot shower stall. The thick glass doors reflected the light from the contemporary iron fixture overhead.

"Let's get you more comfortable, hmm?" Without missing a beat, Harrington began unbuttoning Tristan's cotton shirt. Tristan could see himself in the large mirror over the vessel sink on the stone counter and watched as his shirt feel open, baring his hairy chest. His shaggy blonde hair was falling over one eye and he flicked his head up to get it out of the way. He was about one inch taller than Harrington, but the man's solid physical presence alongside was imposing; it made Tristan feel smaller. He frowned. "Dude. I'm not a pushover." He did, however, look like a ruffian compared to Harrington's suave polished appearance.

"We'll see about that. Get rid of your shoes and socks." Dispensing with Tristan's shirt, Harrington shed some of his own clothing. There was a rack on the wall and he made quick work of hanging Tristan's things along with his.

Now, they were both in just their pants. Tristan was almost afraid to look too closely at Harrington's body. He feared admitting to himself that he actually found the man good-looking.

"You should see your face." Harrington sounded amused. "In fact, let's get you turned around here and you can see for yourself." He positioned Tristan facing the wide mirror that filled the wall above the counter. His hands cupped Tristan's shoulders, then moved down. He slid them back up to cover Tristan's chest muscles, rubbing.

"God. Don't -- ah -- don't touch those!" Tristan tried to back away from the fingers plucking at his nipples and that brought him into direct contact with Harrington's dick.

"Still pretending, hmm?" Harrington unbuckled Tristan's belt and opened his jeans. "Whaaat?" He drew out the word musically. "Is my shy little woodworker actually going commando?"

Blushing again, Tristan couldn't help but suck in his belly as Harrington reached inside. "Oh, shit." Long fingers wrapped around his cock, squeezing and tugging. "Oh, shit." He could feel himself getting harder, despite the fact that it was another man doing the stroking. He gripped the arm that was now holding him across his chest. A sigh shuddered out of his lips and he tilted his head back, leaning against Harrington. "Oh, God."

"Oh, God, indeed." Harrington brought his other hand down to cup Tristan's balls. "Look at yourself."

Completely distracted by the cupping and tugging and caressing that was going on inside his jeans, Tristan felt dizzy. He had to force himself to focus on the mirror and was shocked at what he saw. Harrington's skin was fairly dark, more as if it were natural than from a spray-on tan. Accompanied by the dark hair on both head and chest the businessman presented a stark contrast to Tristan's golden-boy looks.

"Like what you see?"

Shaking his head, Tristan groaned when Harrington gripped him a little tighter. The fist on his dick was driving him nuts. His balls were tingling and his belly churned, while his head was spinning.

"It really is true that guys can be led around by their dicks, isn't it?" Harrington used one hand on Tristan's hip and the other on his cock to direct him next to the glass doors of the shower.

That stung, even though Tristan could hardly deny it. "My dick's always done the thinking for me."

Chuckling softly, Harrington waved two fingers at Tristan's jeans. "Let's get these off, okay?" He reached in to turn on the water, then quickly stripped himself.

"Wow." Tristan's eyes popped open wide. He'd seen dudes naked in porn -- who hadn't? In fact, there was a time when he'd surfed a gay porn site or two. But now, with the real deal a foot away? "Holy shit." Harrington had seemed strong and broad behind the suit but now? Rock solid, long legs, dark hair dusting over the long legs, with a bush surrounding a serious cock.

A drop of pre-cum oozed from Harrington's slit and Tristan watched it slide down helplessly. His gaze was fastened on the dark red skin, and he swallowed hard when Harrington began stroking, making the stiff cock stand up a little taller. "Guh."

"Come, Tristan."

Shrugging to himself, deciding to shelve his mixed emotions, Tristan stepped in behind Harrington. The water was hot and steam began to fill the space, fogging the glass. His eyes were glued to Harrington's motions and Tristan licked his lips as a blue loofah was rubbed slowly over his chest muscles, down his belly and over his thighs. "That feels good." He kept his voice low. Seeing another sponge on the stainless shelf, he poured gel onto it and began returning the favor, actually enjoying the firm body he pressed against. He found himself relaxing as they washed each other, even, the slow pace allowing his tension to dissipate. He gazed at Harrington through wet lashes, leaning forward to run his tongue along firm lips that opened readily. "I don't really like kissing you."

"So I see." Harrington kissed him back.

When Harrington cranked the shower valve closed, silence reigned in the bathroom. He handed a towel to Tristan and the two of them dried off, watching each other.

Harrington pulled open a drawer, grabbed a bottle of lube and a hand towel. Tristan gulped at the site but stood his ground.

"Come." The deep voice was quiet, the look in the grey eyes beguiling. There was the faintest hint of a smile on Harrington's face but Tristan didn't get the feeling that he was the butt of a joke.

Twilight had arrived while they'd been in the other room and Tristan was glad when Harrington switched off the main ceiling fixtures as they moved forward. The glow of a table lamp cast dim yellow light from the corner.

"I want to be the only one who sees this tonight." Arranging Tristan along the front of the brand new desk, Harrington pressed up against his back. "This is just for me." He leaned close to nip one of Tristan's earlobes, then whispered, "All for me."

A hand at his back pushed Tristan forward at the waist and he leaned across the mahogany. "Stretch forward, Tristan." Willing by this point to do whatever Harrington wanted, Tristan grabbed the far side, his grip tightening and relaxing on the carved edge. He breathed deeply, moving his feet farther apart at a nudge from Harrington. Cool air wafted over his ass and he hid his face against the wood.

"I want you to watch us, Tristan. Raise your head and look up." Harrington's voice was still quiet but no less commanding. He tugged on the long hair at the back of Tristan's head.

"Don't." Jerking away from the pull, Tristan lifted himself to his elbows. The windows reflected enough for him to see both of them. Harrington loomed tall behind him, dark hair and skin blending together. Tristan's hair was tousled from the shower and his face was visible the slightest bit, enough for him to see when he bit his own lip. His cock was just as hard now as it had been with Harrington tugging on it and Tristan was overwhelmed. "I can't... this is so weird." He moaned low when wet fingers circled his balls.

"You can. And it's not weird at all. You don't have to limit yourself, Tristan." Harrington trailed his fingers up.

Tristan gripped the desk tightly now, beginning to pant. He tried to bring his legs together but Harrington stopped him, strong legs holding Tristan's open. He cried out when one finger pressed against his hole.

"Easy, my carpenter. You'll like this. Just give it a chance." With that, Harrington pushed gently inside.

"It burns!" Tristan couldn't stop the automatic clenching of his muscles, even as a soothing hand rubbed his lower back. The invading finger pressed forward and back.

"Take a deep breath. Push out a little. You can take me."

Shaken at the thoughts and feelings running riot inside, Tristan tried to obey.

"That's it. Easy, now." When Harrington pulled back, he added a second finger, stretching and easing the tight ring. "We're just going to experiment a little tonight."

When a long arm reached past Tristan for the beads that lay on the desk, Tristan turned his head away. "I don't want you to do it."

"Yes, you do." Harrington didn't even pause as he continued to move his fingers in and out.

Goddamn it, Tristan did want Harrington. He wanted the man to do it. Whatever it was. Even though he was very afraid, the feel of those fingers in his ass was indescribable. "Maybe." He raised his head again, wanting to watch Harrington's reflection. He could see the lube as it was drizzled on the beads. "Who makes, um, anal beads that look like -- like Easter eggs? Isn't that... ohh... isn't that kind of... wow... twisted?"

The first bead was inside him now.

Harrington's voice was husky now. "I thought it was a -- just let me, ahh -- a perfect reminder of a certain scared little bunny." He pushed another two inside and Tristan yelled in surprise.

One fist slapped on the desk. "I'm not a goddamned bunny." Tristan arched his back, the invasion in his ass so different, so new. "Jesus. Right there. Oh, God." He could barely see the sly grin on Harrington's face as the chairman shoved Tristan's legs open wider, pressing his cock painfully into the desk. "Ow. Oh, ow." Up on tiptoe to increase the sensation in his ass, he was able to get a hand underneath and gingerly slide his dick down.

Two more beads were pushed in.

Sweating, breath gusting in and out, Tristan's hands slid on the wood desktop. Harrington grabbed his hips and the remainder of the beads dropped, dangling against his perineum and balls. The sensation was amazing and he rocked forward and back to increase it. "More."

Harrington's answer was a chuffing laugh, along with another bead, then another. Tristan was feeling the pressure inside his ass now. "It's -- it's full. No more."

"Yes. Two more." Harrington rubbed the next bead along Tristan's tight ring, pressing and releasing.

"You bastard." Unable to keep from pushing backward, wanting more, Tristan circled his cock, fisting it, thumbing the head.

"That's it," Harrington crooned softly. "Here we go." The second to the last bead spread Tristan's sphincter, stretching the muscle.

Whimpering now, Tristan couldn't think beyond wanting to come. "Please. Please."

When the last bead was pushed in, he could only grunt unintelligibly. No longer able to hold up his head, he rested his brow on the desk. The weight on his prostate was unlike anything he'd ever felt.

Soothing hands ran up and down his back. "All right, Tristan. My little bunny." Damn but he could hear the amusement in Harrington's voice. "This is going to feel a little different, now."

He cleared his throat. "A -- a little?" He jerked his dick harder, then screamed when Harrington popped the beads out in one continuous pull. "Holy shit!" His back arched and he began coming. He grabbed the desk again to hold on while he writhed and spasmed, grunting again and again. 

He could barely hear Harrington behind him but he raised his bleary eyes enough to see that the chairman was rapidly stroking that impressive cock. Breath whistling through his mouth, he was shocked to watch as the chairman of the board of Midwest Industries came all over his back.

Tristan's head thunked against the desk and Harrington's hands slapped the wood surface next to his shoulders. "Good God." He was panting, too and Tristan could feel the man's softening dick as it rested in the crack of his ass.

"Oh. Oh, no." Harrington's voice was husky.

There was no way he was even trying to lift his head. "What?" He mumbled it into the desktop.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to polish this desk again. My come is dripping onto it."

"Dude. James. I think I just came all over the front of it." Tristan couldn't bring himself to care just then.

Harrington brought his weight down, settling on top of Tristan, moving slowly to rub the fluid in. "Well. We've christened this nicely, my little rabbit."

Too tired to protest the ridiculous nickname, Tristan raised one hand and flipped Harrington the bird.

Shouting with laughter, Harrington pressed a kiss to his ear. "Come on, then. Let's get you cleaned up and we'll see what else the Easter bunny has brought." 


JM Cartwright