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    Andr0gene
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Colorado Game - 3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER *3*

"How about the sofa?" I said instead. Ross frowned, eying it suspiciously.

"I don't think so. Maybe you..."

"Nuh-uh," I shook my head resolutely.

"Oh come on! You could sleep on that; I can't. I'm way too big for that."

"Then it looks like the air mattress for you. Sorry, I was told this was an ‘everyone for himself' kind of week, so boss or no boss; I win," I said, giving him a smug grin. He growled deep in his throat.

"I'm going to fire the person who told you that. But that bed is big enough for the both of us. Come on, have a heart… I really can't sleep on an air mattress, not for an entire week... have mercy." I looked from him to the bed. It was more than big enough; heck, even Eric and Joey could hop in there and there'd still be room.

"Oh alright then, but I'm taking the left side."

"Fine," he said, smiling, "I don't care which side I have to sleep on." And that was that. For some reason, this week started off with me sleeping with the boss. Literally.

**********

The first night I almost didn't sleep a wink, listening to Ross's regular breathing and aware of every movement and sound he made. Ross himself seemed to be deep asleep, not a care in the world, and that was something for which I hated him. I'd never slept with a guy before, save one, and that ended in a disaster. Well, not slept as in actually sleeping. I've had a few boyfriends, sure, but I never spent an entire night with them, neither at their place or at mine. I always went home after we'd end up in bed (or a couch or whatever was appropriate), or sent them on their way when it happened at my place. This was weird. Somehow, every sound in the room is multiplied a hundredfold when you're just lying there. I could hear the tiny snore he made, even above the wind that was howling around outside. When I finally did fall asleep, light was already forming in the east. During the next day I was a little brackish for shortage of sleep; but I didn't dare sleep in. When I woke up, Ross had already left the room, though.

The second night went a bit better, and the third I slept like a baby, courtesy of half a dozen beers, a lot of fun and me being sleep deprived for two nights in a row. That day, though, had me quickly reforming my opinion about the majority of my colleagues. Maybe the work they did was not the most glamorous, programming, testing and such, but they sure weren't dead from the neck down, as I’d thought! That came to me as a bit of a shock, really, but a pleasant one. The biggest dork in the company, fifty-three year old Joe Lopez, had me on the floor, on my hands and knees, laughing like a hyena on crack. He had the driest sense of humor I've ever come across.

Getting to know all of them, listening to their stories about other colleagues, friends and family, was kind of nice. They made me feel welcome, even when I was asked if I had a girlfriend and replied that I wasn't rooting for the female team. It just blurted out, without another thought on my part. Sure enough, jokes were flying within minutes but they weren't hurtful or mean; half of them I had told myself but I even learned a few new ones. One thing was a little disconcerting though; when I made it generally known I was gay, one guy said that it was no wonder then, that I shared a room with Ross. When I asked him why he would make such a strange remark, all I got as an answer was a cryptic ‘you'll find out soon enough'. What, he thought I shared the room because I thought Ross was hot? Well, okay, he was, but that wasn't the reason. And not explaining what he meant made sure that this particular colleague wasn't on my list of reforming an opinion about; he slid down further. Aside from that little incident, the day and evening went by fast.

During the day we had spent hours on the slopes, with me and a dozen others in the kiddy class, learning how to get the hang of it. Half the time we were flat on our asses or faces, having oodles of fun. So when I arrived in the room, tipsy like a Russian president and with a body that was sore from all the falling during the day, I didn't really care if Ross was there or not; I just wanted to sleep. He was there, though, sitting up in bed, reading some papers. I just stripped down, the beers making me less inhibited than I normally am, yawning and giggling at the same time, and stumbled into bed, ignoring several annoyed looks thrown my way.

"You're drunk," he said disdainfully.

‘You're boring," I replied, slurring a bit on the ‘r'. He raised a dark eyebrow and put down his papers as I turned onto my side, facing him. That I tried to get comfy with a lot of noise and movement didn't seem to make his mood any better.

"Excuse me? I'm working."

"We're supposed to have fun," I said, grasping the papers away and out of his reach, dangling them over the side of the bed. "No work."

He tried to prevent me from succeeding with the disposal of the paperwork and he huffed as they landed on the floor. He turned back the covers with an angry gesture and swung his legs over the edge to get up. As the blankets came off and he rose up to go and get the papers, I got a glimpse of a nicely tanned body, dressed in tight boxers. From the back, he had this whole V-shape going from his hips to his shoulders and when he returned I saw a thin layer of short, chest hair. Not too much, just right, and with a little trail that disappeared down from his bellybutton into his boxers. He didn't have an obvious six-pack, but there were the contours of one. He had nice legs too, for as far as I could see; muscled and none too hairy.

"Like what you see? Can I get back into bed now?" his voice suddenly spoke, clearly annoyed. "Go to sleep, you smell like a bar. You could've at least brushed your teeth." I giggled and nodded, getting up.

"Yes dear. Whatever you say, dear," I mumbled, stumbling to the bathroom. "Stop nagging, dear."

He yelled something back at me but I'd already closed the door, blocking it. After brushing my teeth, I figured it wouldn't be a bad idea to also take a shower. I turned on the taps and got in there for a quick, refreshing cleanup. It didn't really make me sober; I still had that pleasant buzz in my head, one of those that make the world a much more fun place. After I toweled off, I realized that the shower-idea had been a good one, save the re-dressing part; I hadn't brought any clean underwear. I opened the door slightly, to see if Ross was still awake. The room was dark by now so I couldn't really tell if he was lying with his back turned towards me or facing this way. It didn't matter though, it was dark enough. I snuck into the room as silently as I could and got to the closet, quickly grabbing a pair of boxers and returned to the bathroom. After I was done, I switched the lights off and went back to bed. It took me a while to find a good spot, then I sighed deep and content; that had been a good idea, taking that shower.

"Next time you feel like walking around naked, and you don't want me to see it, turn off the light in the bathroom too," his voice suddenly spoke, giving me a fright. But it sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

"Hmprf...," I quipped, "Liked what you saw? Can I go to sleep now?" I groaned on the inside. God, stupid, stupid, stupid! I should've worn a towel. But he didn't answer. I didn't say anything else, instead opting for a turn onto my side, my back facing him.

Fixed some typo's, changed some words and lines to better reflect the scene(s).
andr0gene 2004-Present; All Rights Reserved
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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