WHAT IF:
Everyone's suspicions were correct and Carter and Ivan's hatred of one another is a pretense for their deep attraction?
Just another day at the mayor's office. The office has been relatively quiet today and so Carter has been afforded the luxury of another coffee break. One more than usual, a whopping THREE. One, two, three coffee breaks, mwahahaha! The blond stands near the coffee pot, having just poured a fresh cup for himself. He lifts the styrofoam to his mouth and takes a sip, dribbling some of it onto his crisp white shirt afterward. "Oh for the love of…" He mutters, reaching for a napkin as he sets the cup down… miraculously managing not to spill the freshly poured beverage in the process. He lets out a sigh and dabs at the shirt futilely. "Great. Another trip to the dry cleaner's. What's next today, am I going to nick myself shaving when I get home? Moore, you're talking to yourself. Shh."
"Is this what you normally spend your time doing, Moore? Talking to yourself…alone…" The husky tone erupts from somewhere behind Carter, low and brimming with confidence. Standing by the wall is none other than Ivan Fontane, standing tall and proud. His jacket has been removed sometime during the day, leaving him in a rolled up at the sleeves red button up shirt and black tie, the latter of which has been casually loosened. His topmost buttons have been undone, revealing a creamy man-chest sprinkled with the occasional chest hair. His hair is particularly ruffled, windswept.
Green pools of passion appraise Carter up then down, burning with an understated intensity until they fix themselves upon the stain. "Smooth. Very smooth. I hope you left some for me, Moore."
An electric shiver rushed up and down Carter's spine as he heard Ivan's familiar voice behind him. The blond looks up at Ivan with his baby blues, batting them slowly. "Can it, Fontane. No one teases you about the time that you vomited at the last fourth of July picnic." He tosses his head back, letting his hair whoosh in the air before he moves over towards the trash can near Ivan. "I'm not sure if you want what's in the pot… it's not very… fresh." Carter's eyes drift towards Ivan's soft, toned chest. "How much do you lift?" The aide asks before he reaches for his coffee and takes his sip, his eyes slowly raising to meet Ivan's. "I've been thinking about doing a little lifting myself. I could use some pointers if you wanted to meet me down at the YMCA…"
"Regularly?" Ivan inquires, the timber of his voice that perfect blend of noncommittal disinterest. But his eyes, they speak a different language. Slowly, he begins to uncross his arms, highly conscious of his form being inspected and desiring to rise to Carter's expectations. His chest is puffed out, his shoulders rolled back and everything - standing there like the Adonis he is. "I don't lift regularly, but I benched around 260. I'm not a big fan of the gym. I prefer to find my exercise…elsewhere." There is a flash of pink as the man licks his lips. "You ought to. No offense, but you look a bit scrawny." Not very tactful, is he?
"We all can't be as privileged as you with EVERYTHING you do, Fontane. I got the short end of just about every stick." He reaches out to squeeze his own bicep while letting out a sigh. Carter moves over to lean against the wall that Ivan is leaning against, turned sideways with his head tilted. "Other exercise? I'm not sure if I know what you mean." Although if those rumors down in public relations are any indicator… "I'm surprised that you don't lift. You've always had pretty good upper body strength— I mean, I imagined so." Beat. "Not that I was imagining…" Carter says the last bit rather breathlessly, his lips pursing.
"I'm sure you don't know what I mean. At all." Ivan intones calmly, unable to curb the curling of his lips into that insufferable smirk of his. "Heh. Would you like to be at the end of a long stick for once, Moore? Ah - well, I stay active. Swim a lot. Don't allow myself to waste time inside the apartment too much…I like to keep exciting, you know?" Casually, he leans towards the blond, lidded eyes.
Carter scowls at Ivan, although there's a fine sweat beginning to bead on his brow. "A long stick? You're detestable, Fontane. I can't even believe that you would suggest such a thing… maybe that's one of /your/ fantasies." Carter's heart starts to beat a little heavier as he leans in towards Ivan, watching the man's pouty mouth as he talks. "Swimming is good, I like the repetitive motions." He pauses and clears his throat before his eyes shift listlessly from Ivan's mouth to the other man's emerald green orbs of lust. "Well, keeping things exciting has a lot of different meanings, Ivan. It really, truly does."
"What am I suggesting?" Ivan counters easily, quirking one brow. Slowly, a low chortle emits from Ivan's chest, the rumbling coming from deep within his broad chest. "What are you, some kind of pervert? Although, I am a fan of swimming as well. Smooth, even strokes. Relying upon my own endurance. Going until I've exhausted every last bit of me…that's how you work out. How about you, Moore? Do you keep things exciting, then?"
The blond aid licks his lips and looks Ivan over. "Smooth, even strokes? I always prefer the doggy paddle myself. Then again, I never learned to swim. Damn, Fontane. You may be giving me all sorts of lessons in no time." Carter reaches out to brush some of Ivan's shaggy, decidedly suave-messy brown hair away from his face, thumb running across the man's cheekbone. "I keep things as exciting as I can allow. I'm a fragile little bird, but I've gotta learn to fly sometime."
