Dire Consequences

• TITLE: TURNING CIRCLES, Dire Consequences, Chapter 1
  
• RATING: MA/NC-17 (for explicit scenes and languages used)
  
• PAIRING: Original characters = Brent/Josh
  
• SUMMARY: Two men at the top of their game, both career-driven, found themselves entangled in a situation that would change their lives after waking up on the same bed naked but couldn't exactly remember what happened since both were inebriated. How would they deal with the vague memory of that one night when fate seemed to constantly bring them together?
  

A/N: This story will revolve around two men both have reputable postions at the same company. One had come to terms with his sexuality for years and had recently come out, the other had yet to discover another side of him.

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“While we are free to choose our actions, we are not free to choose the consequences of our actions.”

- Stephen R. Covey

Chapter 1

It was through a certain degree of self-control and mental preservation that he managed to convince himself to take part on this weekend trip for the ‘Leadership Training’ that the might-as-well-crumble-down company he worked for had organized.

Nevermind that he left stacks of documents that he needed go through at the office. Nevermind the deadlines he had to meet like two days ago. Nevermind the girlfriend he left grumbling because he had to break the promise of a weekend get-away since it slipped his mind that he had signed up for the damn training.

And fuck.

If it isn’t the worst of the worst of reasons that could be thrown right at his face to make him regret he ever set foot on that cursed lake resort, he got himself drunk on the first night. Ohhh… How he wished it was just the regular kind of drunk wherein he’d feel too tipsy to walk straight, or he’d be lightheaded that he’d end up laughing at the most senseless things but would still remember everything in the morning.

It couldn’t be anything worse, right?

So why was it then that when he was having the most terrible headache ever in the history of aches he still managed to bolt upright, what the fuck, and out of bed in a split second, ignoring the throbbing pain on his head while he dug through the deepest recesses of the subconscious side (hell, even the conscious part) of his utterly confused mind.

He tried to recall what had happened the night before. Well, specifically right after he’d accepted the fourth? fifth? glass of dark had-no-idea-what-shit-it-was liquid that one of his colleagues had offered and downed it like it was just water . Then he remembered dancing. And laughing. And laughing some more. And someone was rubbing his back. And he was leaning on to the touch, to the warmth of the person. And then… and then… nothing. He couldn’t fucking remember anything after that. As if he was shoved in a time capsule for several hours so all he could see was an endless empty black hole.

It couldn’t be just ‘nothing’ though, that he was certain. Because Brent Ambreigh wasn’t stupid not to know that waking up in a room he was sure wasn’t his (Hello? He didn’t and wouldn’t in a million years own a bright green and pink suitcase that lay on the floor a few feet from the bed) could mean a million things. Then there’s also the fact he was covered with sweat and some sticky substance (which he could bet his brother’s car was a product of a lewd activity) glistening on some parts of his very naked body, which triggered a great sense of foreboding. To make the scenario even more mind-boggling, he noticed that there were marks – angry, reddish bite marks all over his chest, around his nipples, his crotch area (Oh. My. God) and he could feel the tender bruising around his neck as well.

As if his own physical state wasn’t enough to prove that he did something very very naughty, he also had to wake up to a warm body pressed against his in a rather compromising position. Forget compromising. It was… well, intimate. Too intimate.

And fuck again.

He wouldn’t have minded if that person happened to be some hot chic, hell it could’ve been the girl from the training department that he had his eyes on for several weeks now. But no. It wasn’t… what’s her name?… Sheila or some random hot chic. It wasn’t even a…a…

Fuck the living dead! How could this happen to him?

There, at the other side of the room, with a shocked expression that Brent was positive mirrored his and was clutching a pillow to partially cover the nakedness (Brent was able to grab the blanket first), was someone he had done nothing but compete with for the last four years of his life.

“Oh. My. Fuck.” Joshua Jethrid finally, finally spoke up. “What the— How did— Where uhm—“ Well, coherency would probably come in the next hour or so. But hyperventilating seemed like a good idea at the time because Josh’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, beads of sweat (apart from the sweat that had been on his skin and had made his body look sleek and… whatever) burst out of his forehead and were trickling down on one side of his gorgeous (Wait, what? Did I just call Josh gorgeous? Brent thought) face and his lips were turning white. No blue. No purple.

A sudden wave of panic coursed through Brent’s veins and he found himself rushing to the other man’s side. “Whoa, whoa. Take it easy, man,” he said rather awkwardly and reached out a tentative hand to pat Josh on the shoulder. He wouldn’t dare rub his back at a time like this. Not when they were both in all their naked glory. But jheez, he wouldn’t want someone dying in front of him either. “Breathe man. Breathe easy.” He should’ve thought of hyperventilating first.

Lack of oxygen seemed more like a credible cause of death than jumping out of the window, which wouldn’t kill him at this point because they’re on the second floor. The worst he could get is a broken leg and permanent insanity.

The patting-on-the-shoulder trick seemed to work because Josh color was returning to normal. Almost normal. If one would call Josh’s face turning beet red normal.

“Oh God.” The breath that the other man released sounded like his own salvation. “Oh shit. Ohshitohshitohshit,” Josh chanted as he started backing away from Brent. He was muttering words that Brent could no longer comprehend, babbling what sounded like an alien language that could either be more cussing or some sort of prayer to bring him comfort.

“Look man,” Brent himself was at a loss for words. But he had to say something. “I’m… ah… well, I’m as shocked and confused as you are, probably. And uhm… well, I-uh… I don’t remember anything so nothing major could’ve happened here… to us, right?” Nice try moron, a voice inside him bridled.

Josh’s panic-stricken face was like a slap that brought Brent back to his senses… proper sense at least. As much as Brent wanted to believe that nothing could have happened between him and Josh, the sticky whitish stuff that had now flaked on his abdomen, his chest and his thighs suggested otherwise. But apart from that… well, Brent didn’t feel anything off or different. His manhood, which had twitched and was now doing its morning salute, did feel a little beaten up though. And… Oh. Fuckity fuckity fuck.

“Uhm…” Now how in the world was he going to ask if Josh felt something out of the ordinary? Like… ‘Does your cock feel tender?’ No way. No in the hell way. “Did we uhm… well, do that and uhm… you know?” Brent felt like a retard with his hand gesturing from him to Josh while words that even the cleverest language expert would lose esteem over continued to spill out from his now quivering mouth.

The color that had spread throughout Josh’s cheeks had turned a shade darker and he suddenly couldn’t look straight at Brent for more than a second. “Well,” Josh managed to start without his voice breaking. His lower lip was wedged between straight pearly white teeth as he shifted his weight from one foot to another, seemingly embarrassed and uncomfortable at the same time. “My uhm… my ass feels rather uhm… sore?”

“Oh. Uhm…” Thank God I didn’t bottom. Brent now wanted to jump out of the window for thinking that. But when his eyes met Josh’s golden brown ones, he felt the slightest tug on his heartstrings and his secret weapon of reproduction throbbed, which was quite alarming. “Sorry?” What could he say, right? “I think I should like go now.” It was early yet, he could see from the partially opened blinds that the sun was just rising, it’s pale orange beam slowly blended with the gray blanket that stretched across the sky.

He quickly gathered his clothes, wanted to laugh at the way they were strewn all over the room. His pants was at the coffee table, his shirt somehow found its way on top of the TV, his boxers was right on the study table that stood at the corner of the room. Once Brent had found all of his clothing, at least much of it that he could remember wearing, he asked the other man, “Can I use your bathroom?” With the consent, he rushed inside and turned on the shower. He didn’t bother waiting for it to warm up a bit, he stepped right into the stall.

What a way to fuck up my weekend. Or my life, were the thoughts that swam in Brent’s numbing brain as he scrubbed and rubbed every inch of his skin like he was desperately washing away the signs that could remind him he had done something stupid. Guinness-Book-world-record-worthy stupid.

Brent had never regarded himself as someone who’d swing both ways. He had probably set a record at his workplace for having the most number of girlfriends in a year. That was because none of his relationships lasted long enough. He always thought that there was something missing on every girl he dated. Now he wondered if that ‘missing something’ could be what was in front of him minutes ago, hidden behind that freaking pillow Josh was so keen on keeping in front of him. He shuddered at the very thought of wanting another man’s… uhm… well that.

Josh, on the other hand, was someone who had just recently come out and became quite the talk of the town, rhetorically speaking. And it’s not that Brent was a homophobe. On the contrary, he actually supported gay rights. It was just that he’d been too caught up with himself and his work that he hadn’t really cared enough to pay attention to anything else.

Now why in the world was he tugging on his cock with Josh in his my mind?

*******

Hang over had its advantages. It was a perfect cover-up Brent used to skip breakfast. He couldn’t face Josh without feeling guilty. He just couldn’t trust himself to keep a poker face. And he certainly wouldn’t want to hear what his colleagues had to say about last night. So locking himself up in his room until he was needed at the conference hall seemed to be the most suitable option at the moment.

But then he had workmates who believed that it was part of their duty to step into his personal space every once in a while. One reason why he hated the fucking ‘open-door’ policy at the office that allowed these infuriating gossipers to invade his privacy at every chance they deemed necessary.

Thus, it didn’t come as a surprise when he heard a knock, surprisingly hesitant in a way though, right after the supposedly breakfast hour. Thinking it was just Leera from their Human Resources Department, he didn’t bother using the peephole and opened the door without any further thought.

If he had a weak heart, he would have died of a heart attack already.

“Hey,” Brent greeted, like it was something he’d automatically say, something programmed in his brain to say when he comes across someone he knows. Of course, it could also work with someone he just had… he cringed at the thought but it would be pointless to deny that the man he just had sex with stood outside the hallway with this certain glow of confidence that often wrapped around him.

“We need to talk,” Josh said unwaveringly and what the heck? Since when did he have a power over Brent that the other just submissively nodded and let Josh in? Wasn’t he supposed to fight this? To avoid him? “About last night…”

Great. Now Brent felt his heart dropped and got stuck in his scrotum. And why did his cock stir at the sound of Josh’s voice saying ‘night’? What the fuck is happening to me?

“Listen Josh,” was Brent’s weak attempt to interrupt because he just felt like he had to. He had to preserve his innocence over the predicament at hand, plea guilty due only to extreme intoxication. Something had to be done, had to be said, to throw the incident into a casket and bury it six feet underground. There is this thing called ‘reputation’ that he had to worry about after all. “I really couldn’t remember anything from last night. Well anything after I gulped down that drink Aaron gave me that is.”

“Wait. Aaron gave you a drink?” There was a hint of sudden recollection that passed through the surface of Josh’s eyes that Brent should have noticed, but didn’t. Not until Josh said, “If I remember correctly, he was passing around drinks last night and it was his concoction that Mayden made me drink before I passed out, or blacked out. Or… I don’t really remember.”

“So…” Brent’s heart was starting to do cartwheels. Perhaps there was still an itsy bitsy teeny weensy chance that nothing could’ve happened since they both don’t remember anything at all. “Even if we both ended up in your uhm… bed, that couldn’t mean that we did something right?”

It was a good thing they decided to hang out at the resort’s bar instead of going out. They should at least be thankful they ended up in Josh’s room, otherwise they would’ve bared any embarrassing shenanigans out in the street.

“Something?” Josh’s eyebrow arched up. “Why can’t you just say it Brent? We had sex.” Brent was simply amazed by the way Josh kept a straight face when he said that but it still made him uncomfortable. “And as much as I would like to join you in your parade of denial,” Josh went on articulately. “I do know we did engage into that promiscuous activity because my ass hole felt tender and it only feels that way when penetrated.” Did he say penetrated? Oh God. “And there are more than a dozen hickeys all over my body.”

The hickeys. “I noticed there are lots of marks in my body too,” Brent hesitantly admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Even in my uhm,” he said, pointing at his crotch area.

“I most likely did that when I sucked your cock,” Josh said it in a way that he was stating something he commonly did, like saying ‘I had coffee at breakfast’ or ‘I had sausage for dinner’. What was overwhelming though was Brent found it arousing.

“You did what?” Of course, Brent had to say something similar to being shocked. He couldn’t let Josh know that what he just said shot tingles straight to Brent’s cock. And damn the images of Josh going down on him that flashed in his mind. If he let it get through to him further, the problem that was arising beneath his pants would inevitably grow.

“I. Sucked. Your. Cock.” Josh emphasized. “For some reason that was one thing I could remember from last night. Vividly if I must say. All else was a blur.”

There were memory flashes that threatened to flood Brent’s brain. “Right,” he said. Now that Josh had mentioned that part, he somehow recalled it happening. “But did you have to rub it in?”

“You mean you remember?”

The room seemed to be closing in on him, trapping him. And Brent was suddenly desperate for air because he couldn’t damn breathe. He rubbed his face with both hands and turned to walk away from Josh. Whether to escape or to simply put a good distance between them, he didn’t know. “Fuck! Maybe I do. But it’s so vague I’m not even sure what to make of it. I mean…ugh…jheez.”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Josh sounded calm enough for a matured conversation and Brent couldn’t help but find that admirable. “Trying to recall what happened became too stressful,” Josh continued, worry now etched on his face. “And thinking about it nearly drove me out of my mind earlier. Trying to ignore it was worse.” It was only then Brent noticed that Josh had gone paler than usual and he hated himself for thinking that he was the only one affected by the situation. “I mean, it was slowly gnawing on my sanity. So I thought I should talk to you about it, perhaps we could both work on smoothening it out and put it behind us and well… move on.”

Josh was right. If they continued to avoid it, then it would affect their relationship. Their working relationship, that is. Even if Brent was confident that both of them are professional enough not to let it get in the way of their jobs, the vague memory of that night might still creep back to them, haunt them and grow on them.

Be a man, deal with it, Brent coaxed himself into agreeing. It was easier said than done though. But he swallowed his pride. Or more like his senseless-shit-of-an-ego and acquiesced. “You’re right. I mean, I’m sure we both didn’t intend for it to happen.” There was a light squeeze in his chest when Josh nodded resolutely. “Besides, it was probably the alcohol or whatever it was in that drink that made us do it.” He made a mental note to ask Aaron about it. He was certainly going to have a word with his friend.

“So I guess it’s safe to assume that we agree to forget about it?” Something flickered in Josh’s eyes and Brent couldn’t place a name for it. “I…” Josh licked his lips and looked straight at Brent. “I hope this doesn’t change anything. I’m still after your job, you know.”

“You wish.” A feather-light laughter drifted from Brent. And he discreetly crossed his fingers hoping that everything would indeed be all right.

The rest of the weekend was uneventful. He was able to give a piece of his mind on the training and only a pinch of it on Josh. But the other man seemed unaffected after the talk they had, so he guessed he should follow suit and pretend that nothing happened.

He had that talk with Aaron too. But his friend said that the drink he mixed was just rum and coke and everyone had their share. He was in fact baffled when he saw Brent pass out. Aaron couldn’t remember the details of what happened next though because they were all practically inebriated.

When Brent got back home Sunday night, he was too exhausted to do anything else and went straight to bed. He woke up in the middle of the night, sweat soaking his white tee and his boxers were soaked with something else. The dream he just had was too erotic. Brent squeezed his eyes shut, trying to bring back the images that made him feel titillated. But like any other dream, it was difficult to remember exactly what he saw. Although he could see threads of it, could recall the sensual sight of someone’s head bobbing just above his crotch, could still feel the warm sensation of someone’s mouth around his cock, could feel the tightening on his abdomen as he was continuously sucked.

Brent kept his eyes close as the dream was coming back to him slowly. He shuddered at the memory of his orgasm. A gasp escaped from deep within his chest and his eyes shot open when he finally saw the face of the person who had just given him pleasure.

It was Josh.

He was right. That night was going to haunt him in his dreams. And Brent wondered whether it would stop or if it will only get worse.

~ tbc ~

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