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a cracked polystyrene man	By : Morosetintedglasses Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Celeb > Myth Busters Views: 3960 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Myth Busters, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A cracked polystyrene man
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Adam wrenches his cellphone out of his pocket. The LED display announces 3:06.

Three-oh-six!?

That bitch. Three hours and not a meal break, or even an iota of off-camera time between now and six.

His stomach roils like a hot pan of ramen noodles and his chest contracts hard like a vacuum sealed frozen dinner hastily torn open.

Sweat oozes on the back of his neck like glaze on a ham-steak. It drips cold as glacial melt down his back, hurling the world into gritty, high-def focus, so sharp that everything stands out in harsh relief. The lines of oily grit packed under his nails. The broken grid of pixilated freckles cascading down his hands. The lemon fart smell of disinfectant hastily sprayed to mask a wet shit bubble session of diarrhea.

Resting his knotted forehead against the cool glass of the bathroom mirror, he earnestly wills down the pureed wet burrito swiveling dangerously up his esophagus.

How is he going to do this?

This isn�t like trying to get a drunk chick in the sack, and definitely lacks the relative anonymity and thus lack of enduring responsibility for the consequences.

And Jamie�s not a homophobe or anything, but he�s not so well-oiled in self-security that a come-on from another guy (especially Adam) isn�t going to glide off him like rain on duck feathers either.

Man, every time Adam so much as looks at Jamie, Jamie�s going to assume that Adam�s mind-raping him with sordid, ass-addling fantasies of pounding his prostate like a pugilist pummeling a punching bag. He�ll involuntarily clench his sphincter when Adam pops up in his thoughts. He�ll avoid bending over in Adam�s presence, instead electing to squat down by the knees, like a girl in a short skirt trying to conceal her panties. He�ll probably be so worried about dropping things for fear of presenting that bulbous temptation so starkly in front of Adam�s eyes, that his edginess over dropping them will make him more apt to drop them, and thus he will be forced to bend over to pick them up more often than he would under circumstances where he didn�t fear having his anus ogled by some deranged homosexual. And the greater frequency of drops will make him more acutely aware of this, and with each successive drop he�ll compound his anxiety exponentially until he�s lost all manual dexterity in Adam�s presence, decides that he�s too great of a distraction to have around the shop, and fires him. Of course, the decision would based on Jamie�s fear of Adam�s homosexuality, so Adam can sue with a discrimination lawsuit. Then again, can he sue for being fired for being gay if he�s not actually gay?...Damn.

Well, now that he�s certain of the worst case scenario, anything else should be a pleasant surprise.

Not that he cares about what Jamie thinks of him. It�s not like he�s got a crush on him or anything. It�s just that no matter which way you slice it, it�s uncomfortable to work so closely with someone who thinks you want to fuck them and holds it against you.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckety fuck.

And Kari wants Jamie and Adam to double-team her. Their junk�s gonna rub against each other in her. And how masculinity-compromising would it be if, like, they�d have to hold onto each other for purchase or something, and their hands met and like their balls slapped into each other�And worst! If Jamie�s fucking Kari and Kari�s fucking Adam, then syllogistically Jamie�s fucking Adam! [If A=B and B=C, then A=C.] Fucking geometry!

And Adam knows that in light of all this, it�s really pretty ridiculous, but he can�t help but feel like Jamie�s encroaching on something that Adam�s earned. Just like he always does. Adam�s fucked the arches of Kari�s feet and Jamie gets to reap the rewards. That fucking bastard. Why does Kari do this to him? Why does she fuck with him so much?

Short answer�because he lets her. And he�s such a fucking loser that it doesn�t matter. He�s pissed because she debases his dignity, but did he ever have any? Was he ever a man to be degraded from that distinction? Adam supposes that you can�t really be torn down if you never had a pedestal to stand on. But Kari thinks he has one. Well, as long as she�s thinks that there�s something worth destroying in him, she�ll think that he�s worth her time, however measured, and that is all he needs to keep him happy.

But that�s what real love is. The complete, selfless surrender of yourself to someone else. And somehow, in his gut, he doesn�t trust that someone loves him sincerely unless he�s had to earn it. And even then, he won�t accept that love is total unless it�s doled-out incrementally. Women who give their whole hearts all at once�they leave nothing for him to want. Yeah, he�s married and all that, but someone needed to take care of his kids.

Someone tries the door, and finding it locked, knocks in earnest.

He glances at his cellphone. 3:12.

Feeling like the world�s rocking on a massive tilt-o-whirl, he stumbles out of the men�s room and takes his seat beside Jamie.

�That took a while.� A monotone accusation, right under the searing glare of the ring of cameras trained on him like a firing squad.

�Geez man, do I have to account for the duration of my piss-breaks now?�

�No. But isn�t it weird that those notes have such diuretic effects.�

Adam says nothing, trying not to give anything away. There�s no way to tell how much he actually knows. Jamie could just be feeling him out for information. Then again, Jamie is incredibly perceptive, even if he doesn�t know the exact details of Adam�s transgressions, he may have already ascertained their character. Fuck�but he knows that something is definitely awry and if it�s happening in his shop he�s going to find out the details of it. Adam�s fucked. And he�s fucked on camera.

Luckily, before Jamie can proceed with his cross-examination, Christine approaches with a question about polyester resin and Jamie�s forced to follow her to her work station. But his backward glance quite emphatically communicates �this isn�t over yet.� A questioning glance darts around the ring of cameramen, who without a word unanimously decide to follow Jamie and Christine.

Thank you Christine, for your over-eager attempts to curry favor with the boss as well as imposing yourself into our camera shot. She does it by asking questions, which Jamie prefers to making mistakes, but then again, Jamie has a threshold over which you should be competent and not have to ask questions. Christine is far over this threshold, but she constantly asks questions in an obvious, showy way to attract attention to the fact that she�s eager and attentive. Not to mention that the most pressing questions seem to conveniently arise when the cameras are on. Adam can�t blame her, he supposes, he�d do that if he�d been cut-off from the show and told everyone in the shop to fuck themselves.

Christine�s been torn-up lately over being cut-out from camera time. When Scottie quit she was sure she would step up and be elevated to the built team. Then Grant was assigned to it and she flipped a shit.

Adam spied her screaming accusations at producer Dan through a cracked-open door.

�It�s because I�m too ugly, isn�t it? C�mon, tell me�I can take it!

�It�s not��

�What!? Thought I might crack the camera lens?�

�You know that�s not tr��

�DON�T PATRONIZE ME YOU FUCKING SEXIST! ADAM AND JAMIE ARE UGLY AS SIN, BUT THAT DOESN�T MATTER�THEY�RE MEN! THIS ISN�T AN ENGINEERING SHOW, IT�S PORN! UGLY MEN WITH HOT WOMEN THROWING THEIR EMACIATED, ANOREXIC LEGS OPEN ON THE WORK BENCH! FUCKING�FUCKING�FUCK!� The last word climbed to a shriek. �ADMIT IT!�FUCKING ADMIT IT, YOU LYING SACK OF SHIT! THAT�S WHY YOU REPLACED ME WITH THAT FUCKING GREASY CHINK CALCULATOR!� Adam bit back the urge to interject actually, he�s Japanese. So greasy jap calculator, greasy harbor bomber calculator, or even greasy twinkie calculator would be more correct.

�SAY IT�IT�S CUZ I�M UGLY! I�M UGLY! I�M UGLY!�

�YEAH! IT�S CUZ YOU�RE UGLY! YOU�RE FAT! YOUR FACE MAKES ME WANT TO SAY �ROLL OVER� AND THROW DOGGIE BISCUITS AT YOU! YOU�RE A PAPER BAG FOUR�THAT MEANS YOU�D BE A FOUR IF YOU HAD A PAPER BAG OVER YOUR HEAD! WHAT�S YOUR HERITAGE�ENGLISH, ITALIAN AND BULLDOG!? YEAH, THAT�S WHY YOU CAN�T STAY�WE CAN�T PUT ANYTHING OBSENCE ON TV, BUT IT TAKES TOO MUCH EDITING TIME TO HIDE YOUR OFFENSIVELY-FUCKING-UGLY FACE WITH BLURRING GRIDS!�

Adam heard the dry smack of a hand firmly slapping a cheekbone.

She stormed out. Adam, absorbed in his voyeurism, had forgotten to move, so he found himself standing directly in her way. [There�s two things in this world you don�t get in the way of�a stampede of elephants, and an angry woman. And personally, he�d take the elephants any day. Just run at right angles.]

He neatly stepped aside, but she shoved him anyway.

�You�re not ugly,� he assured in the same tone that you would say it�s what on the inside that counts.

�Fuck you.� She growled, tears streaming hot down her neck and face inflamed cherry bomb red.

Adam thought Dan had been harsh with her. She�s not ugly�she�s just butter. Everything butter face. Duh-dun dun.

He heard her shrill voice echoing from the warehouse. �FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING WHORES!�

She had principles, Christine did.

But you can�t pay the cellphone bill with principles. Don�t believe me? Go to your local airport, say you�re going one-way from idealism to reality, and ask about the exchange rate from principles to currency.

So a week later, Christine came back, all apologies, expounding upon the fact that she didn�t deserve her job back�but could she please have it back?

Adam was ready to say �but you�ve made such a persuasive case for why you don�t deserve your job.� But he�s not a dick. Well, that�s not true. He�s a dick to his underlings, but he�s not an overt dick like Jamie. Adam�ll say something dick with a shit-eating smile on his face. That�s because Jamie�s a task-master, but Adam�s a sadist.

Oh, and about Christine. Adam can�t be sure, as he wasn�t really present (as hiring is really Jamie�s responsibility), but he heard that she tossed a carrot salad in order to get her job back. And no, he�s not talking about the kind with ranch dressing�well, you could�No. Just no. Salad dressing rim-jobs are just more than his stomach can take.

Then again, Christine�s timely interruption has untwisted some of those knots in his stomach. God bless Christine, and her eager-to-please, neo-racist, persecution complex, low-self-esteem attitude. Before his TV career got rolling, Adam fucked chicks like Christine. It�s easy. She thinks people will only like her if she fucks them. And Adam�s willing to let her fuck him so that she can have her that powerful, transitory hit of self-worth. That�s easy. But you�ve got to get rid of them by morning or they cling like the flu, begging for attention and constant affirmation of their worth as human beings. Yet oddly enough they are quick to reject any compliment out of hand. That�s why it�s not fair when chicks ask if something makes them look fat. If you say no, they don�t believe you. And if you say yes, they get offended. Adam�s solution: say �Those pants don�t make you look fat. Your fat does.�

Well, ok, he�s never actually said that. He�s not stupid. But he�s thought it.

But anyway, thank Jesus Adam can do better than Christine these days�before the show, women like Kari wouldn�t have paid him a second glance. But now�god, she�s so beautiful. Not in the rail-thin, exposed ribs, movie starlet way, but in a�Scarlet Johansen kinda way. Curvy body, full lips, and an open smile. Movie starlets are forbidding. Kari�s warm and welcoming and approachable�which for Adam means she�d reject him nicely. God, he loves her so hard it�s giving him an ulcer.

But he can�t have her again until--oh shit! Christine may have solved the immediate problem of Jamie�s inquisition, but with Jamie gone�Jamie�s gone! It�s improbable that Adam could pull of seducing him, but it�s impossible to do so if Jamie�s answering some mindless question about polyester resin. Fucking Christine!

Adam rocks nervously in his chair, frenetically playing piano scales on his knees, dreading and anticipating Jamie�s return.

Christine�s question ends up lasting a full hour. It�ll take those tech-geeks in Australia a good while to edit her out of the episode. What the hell can be so complex about polyester resin?

Adam hasn�t moved from his seat. He�s tried, to be sure, but every time he worked up the nerve to stand up, he�s impotently fallen back in premature defeat. What was he going to do�seduce Jamie in the presence of four cameras and Christine? But he couldn�t just sit there�but what could he do if he got up? Instead, he settled on restlessly fidgeting for an hour.

Jamie returns, cameras in tow. His face is capillary-red. Christine must have pissed him off royal, and Adam�s a deluded man if he believes that some of that irritation isn�t going to be projected onto him.

Heavily, Jamie sits beside him and begins to distractedly drone about�something. Adam�s distracted himself. The tone of Jamie�s words filter through his ears, but their content is utterly lost as Adam struggles to think of a way to signal his intention without alerting the cameras (and ironically, without alerting Jamie. Adam�s plan is basically to come onto Jamie in a plausibly deniable way. The only problem means that plausible deniability is undetected signal�s twin, meaning basically that his over-cautious desire to save face in the event that Jamie rejects him means that Jamie may never detect Adam�s advances at all.)

The leg brush! That should work! Keeping his upper body stiffly still, he scoots his leg toward Jamie�s and�they bump! Jamie shifts his leg away. Shit! Adam had been too hasty. He�d collided with Jamie�s leg with too much force, so Jamie automatically assumed that it had been an accident. Now that he�s failed in his more surreptitious plans, he�s forced to take bolder measures.

Clenching and unclenching his fist, Adam fights the faint feeling that a giant vice is clamped onto his torso tightening by degrees. He sucks a voluminous breath through his nose, and inches his hand toward Jamie�s. His heart�s bouncing erratic like a hyper rubber ball in his chest cavity as he extends his pinky to gently hook over Jamie�s thumb. Without breaking his train of thought, Jamie shifts his hand away from Adam and closer to his own body, as if Adam�s pinky had just incidentally brushed his own.

�Sorry man.� Adam finds himself saying.

Unheeding, Jamie continues.

Adam shouldn�t have apologized.

Ok, one last shot. Leg-to-leg didn�t work. Hand-to-hand didn�t work�but he hasn�t tried hand-to-leg! It�s the most dangerous of his stratagems, because it�s conspicuous to the cameras and potentially revealing of his intentions. But it�s all he has left.

Trying to look natural, but succeeding only in looking like someone who is conspicuously trying to look natural, he yawns an arm-stretching yawn, and instead of replacing his hands on the table, he places them gently on his thighs. By degrees, he slides his hand to the outer portions of his jeans until half in anchored on his pants, and the other is floating precariously in open air. And then, it�s inching toward Jamie�s thigh, excruciatingly, unnaturally slow when�

�So, I�m having difficulty working-out how we�re going to solve this problem in a gravitationally-influenced environment.�

Involuntarily, his hand jumps, smacking the bottom of the table just over Jamie�s crotch.

�Shit! Fuck! Dammit!� he shakes out his aching knuckles.

�Distracted?� The word has so many implications.

If Adam says something, it�ll make the situation televisually interesting and this compromising scene definitely make it to TV. He seals his lips, and dejectedly slouches back in his chair.

Jamie smirks in that annoyingly self-satisfied way.

Adam listens, following the conversation half-heartedly, trying to be as bland as possible so that the day doesn�t show up on the air. Minutes slip by, like water leaking out of cupped hands.

At 5:52, Adam�s ready to cry, and to his chagrin he hasn�t been able to sufficiently distract himself with work. He�s lost his last chance with Kari. She�s going to glide past the office, see it vacant and never spare him another morsel of attention again. This prospect horrifies Adam. Kari�s become his raison d�etre. Losing her would be losing the only thing that made living more than just being alive.

He�ll hang himself with his belt in the warehouse. He pictures her finding his body hanging heavily from the ceiling, swinging in the drafts. His eyes would be open, tongue out and askew, and glasses fallen crookedly down his nose. She�d cry, knowing it had been her fault. And rightly so. But that�s too petulant a thought-process even now in this horrible situation. He�d may as well play �Adam�s Song� on repeat when he does it, he�s acting so immature. Or he�s just trying to ennoble his intentions when really he�s just not going to do it, because it would rob him of the pleasure of seeing it himself.

5:53. No�he has succeeded at everything he has applied himself to, and he�ll be damned if his own timidity robs him of this opportunity. Yeah, it�ll be awkward around Jamie, but he�s got to try. It�s going to be even more awkward if Adam can�t get his work done because he�s too busy grieving for the only solace he�d ever had. For a moment, Adam leaves himself, like he�s viewing from a distance as his boldness manipulates his body.

�We need to talk,� he interrupts.

Jamie sighs impatiently. �About what?�

�I need to tell you something important�privately.�

Jamie looks skeptical. Adam covers his mic with his hand. �About the notes. In the office� Jamie perks up, probably interpreting Adam�s previous lack of concentration on his anxiety over having been found out. He must assume that Adam�s ready to give his confession. Adam�s got him. He�s already fulfilled half of his task.

Adam leads the way to the office. The cameramen remain at bay, but they don�t hide their anxious curiosity.

Jamie closes the office door behind him, and Adam�s will suddenly fails him. Drains�like a femoral artery had ruptured. The door�s not supposed to be closed.

�What�s this about?�

Adam raises a hand, to halt the line of questioning for just a moment. This visibly irritates Jamie.

Adam opens the door a crack and peers out nervously. What�s to stop one of the cameramen from approaching silently in order to indelibly catch the moment? It�s in the contract that there are no limitations on what the cameramen can film. Fuck.

�Well?�

Adam�s eyes shift to the clock. 5:58. Stall for two minutes.

�I just have to come right out about it. No more messing around. Just going to tell it like it is,�

�Then do.� Jamie knows Adam�s stalling.

5:59

�Well, the notes are about�Kari and I. And�what we�ve been doing in the warehouse�after hours.� Shit, this is rapidly turning into a real confession. This is the point of no return. He�s already divulged enough to lose him his job�and Kari�s. He couldn�t forgive himself for the latter.

�You and Kari?--� Jamie roars. He really is a lion of a man.

�And hopefully�� 6:00 �You too.�

He throws his arms around Jamie�s neck and awkwardly throws himself on him like a drowning man grabbing driftwood. His lips clash onto Jamie�s, unpuckered so their thin lips can�t prevent the hard crash of teeth. It�s terrible. It�s unsexy. It�s the most ardor Adam has ever thrown into a kiss in his whole life�as inelegant as it may be, and he can�t conjure up Kari�s face when his lips are rubbing raw against the broom-bristles of Jamie�s mustache, so he just repeats her name like a mantra in his head Kari. Kari. Kari. Oddly, it echoes solemn as last rites.

Jamie�s lips haven�t responded, and his arms come up and he�s about to push Adam away with the force you�d detached a rabid dog from your person�but to Adam�s horror, they wrap firm around Adam�s waist with the strength of twisted metal. Jamie deepens the kids, prying open Adam�s shock-frozen lips with his strong tongue. It is the strongest muscle in your body, Adam reflects. Jamie�s meaty hands run rough down Adam�s back, until they curve over the slight-arc of Adam�s ass and squeeze, making Adam yelp, not in pain, but just with the feeling of having something unaccustomed to exploration being so roughly and abruptly seized. The newness of the sensation made his bones melt�and not in a good way. In a painful way that made him acutely aware of his body weight, and how smartly it would smack on the ground if his knees buckled.

Jamie�s heedless�Jamie�s a fucking animal. He backs Adam up against the wall, grinds the stiff tentpole in his pants against Adam�s groin with immense frictive force, like he�s trying to start a fire without matches. He�s probably wondering why Adam�s soft as Play-do, and then he�ll wonder about Adam�s lack of response. Adam wills his inert dick to harden, but it�s too busy cowering in fear, like a turtle recoiling into its shell.

So Adam compensates. His arms, which had been hanging nerveless by his sides, tentatively rise up and cup Jamie�s ass, uncertain, like he�d hold a large bowl of jello. But this requires a more active response. He kneads. Jamie grunts. Good.

Adam shifts his weight slightly leftward, so that his thigh could rest between Jamie�s legs, and rubs Jamie�s erection, wondering how he could do this hard enough to stimulate him, but not so hard that he knees him in the balls.

Jamie�s forehead dips to rest on Adam�s shoulder, and his massive frame is shuddering with the terse friction of Adam�s leg. He groans inhuman, making Adam wonder if he himself produces such sounds in the unthinking, unyielding heat of passion. Kari might get turned-off by it. Adam�s getting turned-off by it. Kari�shit Kari. Jamie has backed him out of the narrow shaft of light leaking in through the cracked-open door. He tries to push Jamie back softly, and Jamie�s only response is to pin Adam against the wall with his powerful body as his hands shakily work to liberate his dick from his pants. A tuft of pubic hair springs out, like there�s a trapped, quivering animal in his trousers. Jamie goes commando. Who knew? It seems to fit.

Adam tries more force and gets three inches away from the wall, but his strength is outmatched, and Jamie impatiently slams him back. His back hits hard, making him gasp �oof.�

Adam longingly stares at the door, and the wall-clock which reads 6:03. She couldn�t have seen. They�d only been in view for ten seconds, before Jamie had pushed him against the wall. He�s lost her�he�s lost her and Jamie�s dry-fucking him with predatory ferocity. Jamie�s burning dick fleshily prods Adam�s thigh, like a tap on the shoulder that brings you violently back to reality. He can�t just stop�he�s confessed. And this may be his only chance for reprieve.

Adam�s hand fights its way down between their bodies, until he�s got Jamie�s dick clutched in his hand like a billy-club. Three rough strokes. He�s not very good at it. He knows the principles, but the reversal of position from masturbation to hand-job makes the transition rough.

Jamie winces. �Too rough.� Guttural accusation. Like Adam�s malicious rather than just inept.

He plucks Adam�s hand away. Apparently, Adam�s not going to get away with a quick, easy handjob and pretending like he�s just cleaning a pvc pipe or something. Though why he�d be cleaning a pvc pipe is beyond him.

Jamie crushes Adam down by the shoulder, making him fall to his knees, driving him face-to-head with Jamie�s fat, uncircumcised, flame-red dick. Somehow, this announces a sort of dramatic finality that even jacking Jamie off didn�t really express. His back�s against the wall. Literally. He really doesn�t want his mouth fucked, but he doesn�t see any room for negotiation.

He opens his mouth, gaping wide like Edvard Munch�s �The Scream.� Jamie makes no pretence of gentleness. There�s no tentative sliding in. Just a rough thrust of hips and Adam feeling like a midget�s trying to punch him in the throat. He gags, trying to push Jamie away, but Jamie just jerks Adam further forward by the back of his skull. Adam feels like he�s going to vomit�he�s just going to hurl gastric acid and half-digested cheeseburger all over Jamie�s dick, balls and thighs.

When he fails to get his gag reflex under control, Jamie releases him long enough to catch his breath and, to Adam�s horror, begins to zip up his pants. �Fuck, if I wanted a circumcision, I�d get a professional to do it.�

Somehow, that stings to the core of Adam�s pride. He firmly grasps Jamie�s hands. Jamie stops, and lets his arms sag to his sides. He�d been expecting this. He knows that goading Adam�s inadequacies has always inspired him to improve. Taking a trick from his encounters with women, Adam gently bites down on Jamie�s half-zipped zipper, tugging it down to the base. Unfettered, Jamie�s dick bobs up and gently slaps Adam�s chin. Adam�s hands tentatively grasps Jamie�s hips, and tries to catch Jamie�s dick in his mouth without the aid of touch, kinda like bobbing for apples.

He licks his lips, couches his teeth beneath them, and captures Jamie�s dick. Taking it slow, he slides his lips down the length of the shaft, then back up in that excruciatingly slow pace. He does it again, this time flattening his tongue against the cylindrical surface making Jamie feel the hot and the wet and the texture. Because of the large circumference of Jamie�s dick, it�s difficult to maneuver his tongue around it, but Adam manages. His fingers bite deeper into Jamie�s thighs, and he kicks-up the pace. Jamie grunts, and rests his hands of Adam�s head. Thankfully, not dictating the cadence, but moving with it, like treading water in ocean swells. His fingers caress Adam�s scalp. And Adam hates himself for it, but it makes his body tingle from his spine. Somehow, this encourages him to try harder. He swirls his tongue around Jamie�s dick in time with his bobbing up and down in a steady crescendo. Jamie�s thighs tenses in Adam�s hands, and Adam squeezes tighter for better purchase as Jamie moans low and husky, and dark and unformulated in the back of Adam�s head is smug satisfaction over having this kind of power over Jamie�or maybe he�s just equivocating because he needs to justify his masculinity even when he�s on his knees sucking Jamie�s dick.

But Jamie�s close�Adam�s right hand releases its grip, and his thumb and forefinger form a ring around Jamie�s dick pumping the shaft with greater rigidity than his mouth is capable of. Responding immediately, Jamie grunts, both hands leaving Adam�s head and slamming against the wall, as the primordial rhythm jerks his body erratically back and forth until all that Adam has to do is be a firm loop of friction for Jamie to fuck as he thrusts those final death-throes�one two THREE!

�Awgh!� the unthinking cry of vowels signals the final release in time with a hot jet of come squirting in Adam�s mouth like the flame trail shooting out of a rocket on ignition.

Jamie rests against the wall, panting and now Adam�s got to deal with the dormant lump of flesh lying dead on his tongue as well as the mucous-flavored come coating his tongue. It�s not that bad, it�s like when he sucks snot in his mouth before hawking a loogie. He could spit it out, but there�s no trash bag in the wastepaper basket, and he really doesn�t want a dried come trail permanently stuck inside it, reminding him that he once gave Jamie head in this very room. And the bathroom�s on the other side of the shop, and he really doesn�t want to carry this load, precariously balanced on his tongue, all the way there, especially because someone�s going to want talk to him on the way. They always do. Deciding it would be most economical, he swallows then looks toward the mini fridge wondering if there�s a soda inside.

Jamie gathers himself, and pushes himself off of the wall.

�Not bad.� And of course he�s returned to his sardonic monotone. Adam wasn�t expecting tenderness�actually, Adam would be creeped-out by tenderness, but he wanted at least of moment of softening in acknowledgment of the fact that Adam had just thrown himself fully into a blow job for him. Hell, Adam deserved more than that�he deserved as Oscar for that performance.

At least Adam knows that whenever Jamie gives him crap, and he always does, Adam has the smirking satisfaction of thinking, �I made you come.� Then again, he�ll never have the satisfaction of actually using that fact as a weapon, because Jamie could always return, �you sucked my dick on your knees like a bitch.� And Adam couldn�t really argue with that logic.

Adam realizes that he hasn�t pulled himself up from his kneeling position, and his knees hurt, and his lips are dead numb from the friction. Jamie looks at him quizzically.

�You swallow? I never took you to be that big a faggot.�

Back-handed compliment, much?

With nothing to say, Adam just pushes past him and takes a Coke out of the fridge, picturing Jamie�s sperm wriggling futilely between his teeth.

Where�s the uterus?

I don�t know. We just passed the tonsils.

He takes a drink, swishing the coke around his mouth, satisfied that he�s scorching the little bastards to death with phosphoric acid.

Jamie leaves.

Somehow, and this is also amongst the long list of things Adam refuses to admit to himself, he�s actually kinda hurt that Jamie didn�t acknowledge the hard work he�d put into it. He always does that. Just doesn�t appreciate Adam�s efforts.

Adam closes the door and twists the deadbolt locked, leaving himself in suffocating darkness. He sits at his desk, palms flat on the cool surface, the bitter aftertaste of Jamie�s come clinging to his tongue�and cries, cries like his father told him not to, whispering Kari�s name in broken sobs again and again and again and Kari Kari Kari�

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a cracked polystyrene man