Bickering and sexual fantasizing had risen to epic levels in K-Science. At least, the latter had for Hermann. He felt as though he was being torn in half. One minute full of rage, the next greatly aroused. This is slowly destroying me. He often caught himself looking at Newton or in his direction as if that would help him understand why he had these, to him, illogical feelings. Hermann had just finished a massive influx of work. Though the need for his work never truly ceased, there was the odd moment when he could breathe. Now was one of those rare times. It was well past midnight and Newton had gone to bed. As he walked out of the lab and retired to his quarters, he stopped for a second to look at Newton's side of the lab. It looked very desolate without him. I can't actually miss him after a half an hour...or can I?
Hermann stood still in the now quiet lab. How long has this been going on? Has it truly been a year...perhaps two? Time has lost it's reality. It's this blasted war and...falling in love with Newton has not alleviated that feeling. At one point, about 8 months ago (or was it longer?) he had been forced to admit to himself that he'd been having...thoughts...about Newton before he realized he was doing it. Presently, he went to his room. It too looked desolate. It certainly feels desolate. Getting into bed, he thought about the first time he'd ever touched himself while thinking about Newton. It had been an accident...
They'd had an argument. Well, more like a flaming row. They both had said things that crossed the line even for them. Hermann had gone to his room, fuming. He'd gotten undressed in a fury and got into bed, overly warm from the exertion. It had only been a little touch to adjust himself and then he felt that he was not completely flaccid. He swallowed. What brought this on? He hadn't noticed it when he was ticking Newton off for some crack-brained idea. He hadn't noticed it when Newton was yelling at him or mocking his accent. He hadn't noticed it when he was walking over to Newton. He hadn't noticed it when Newton was in his face, defending himself, sweating, running his hands through his thick dark hair, green eyes shining with spirit and fire and... oh dear Lord. It can't be. No, no, not him. Why in God's name would I consider him attractive? Hermann was breathing hard, his own pulse starting to beat a merry tune in his ears. His hand was resting on his groin before he had a chance to fight the impulse. Was it something he said that got me into this state? Apparently, just the thought of him was enough. Why would someone who infuriates me produce this contradictory effect? It's not as if we are on the best of terms. We engage in conversation that no one else will with us and that's it. A lightbulb went off. No one can engage in that level of scientific conversation with either of us. That must be some sort of trigger for these impulses. That, and those bright eyes of his. He reached into his pants right then and there.
"Dammit!" Hermann growled to himself. He tried in vain not to think of those plump pink lips, the five o'clock shadow, or how he was desperate to feel the man's shoulders. They look so inviting...as does his backside...not that I've ever... Oh, hang it all. His ass does look so...unf...I'd love to touch it, just once.
"Oh Newton," he sighed to himself, rubbing harder. He mentally chided himself. He's my work colleague; this must stop. But he...pressed on. Soon rubbing wasn't enough. He took himself in hand, stroking and tugging. Newton's angry voice rang in his ears, first high-pitched and infuriated, then deep, mocking his own. Whatever tone, Newton's voice was saturated with personality. Hermann rubbed his thumb over the moist head, thinking about Newton, gesturing wildly, talking about the disgusting giant creatures plaguing the earth. He replayed the moments in which Newton had completely invaded his personal space, in anger or familiarity. He moaned softly as he thought of the closeness, Newton's body heat, the sheer physicality of Doctor Geiszler, the expressive, eccentric genius, a sort of outcast like himself. They knew how each other's minds worked; it was a scientific fact. But there was a terrible chasm between them. It was needlessly wide and uncrossable, full of anger and conflict. How I'd love to bridge that gap with a kiss. What would he think if he knew I was erect and he was the one who'd caused it? Hermann groaned, fisting himself with fervor. His arm was getting sore but he mindlessly careened toward release. Hermann thought of the very first time he and Newton had shaken hands, the way their palms slotted together, softly, warmly, strongly, like an electrical current was humming through his veins. Hermann practically whimpered at the thought. He felt as though his body was being licked by blue flame and he moaned loudly, spilling out in several bursts. He didn't realized he'd arched off the bed slightly until his lower back, damp with sweat, came in contact with the mattress again. He couldn't stop panting, as if the panting would get the feelings out of his system too. I haven't come so hard in years...
And after that Hermann couldn't stop. He must have come dozens of times thinking about his lab partner since that day. Perhaps a hundred times by now. He sat on the bed, letting most of his body be dead weight in the upright position. He threw his cane to the floor with great anger and eased himself on the bed, stretching out, his clothes still on. He put his face in his hands and almost tired to cry. But he couldn't. The mere frustration made him dry up. He slammed his fists against the mattress beneath them, but they bounced back maddeningly. I can't go on like this. I must tell him. Soon.