Satisfaction ☆ Software

Character/Pairing: Microsoft, Macintosh, Microsoft/Macintosh
Date Written: 29/06/2011

This had started out as quite possibly the most awkward playout of a fantasy Mac had ever had. And Mac was big on fantasies. Very big.

He’d thought about this a hundred different ways. Everything from what his first look to him would be to what his final breath would hold when each daydream was brought to a stuttering and, frankly, climactic ending.

What Mac never suspected was that their first real interaction be a scheduled one. Sure the first time he had actually met him was running face first into his chest, catching a strong wiff of his musk to which he had had to make an immediate and speedy excuse to run to the bathroom to cure his young hormones of the reaction that followed taking it in.

But his mind was wandering. Where had he been?

Ah yes. Scheduled.

It was written into his dayplanner which he honestly kept on him more often then he did anything personal. Because his dayplanner was personal; work was personal.

And penciled into today’s box, crossed with a star to mark its importance, was a simple notation: Meeting w/ CEO. CoffeeHouse @ 6pm. Bring change.

And that was it. His board of directors had never actually specified who he was meeting with. They claimed that if he was truly ever going to succeed in the business, to grow old with this business, he would have to learn to adapt immediately to change. To be able to pull bullshit out of thin air was apparently a very big deal to these dying men of a new industry.

He was the innovation, they claimed. His shoulders were going to be the two to one day hold up this entire business and avoid having even a single thread break apart.

Well when Mac showed up at 6pm sharp at the CoffeeHouse, dress pant pocket jingling with change, his shoulders suddenly didn’t feel like they could hold up the company anymore.

Suddely they didnt feel like they wanted to do anything other then be pressed hard into a floor with a rhythmic timing to the steadily growing carpet burns he would surely aquire.

Damn. Mind wandered.

What was he doing here?


Coffee first.

Deep breaths, Mac. He is the head of your largest rivalry company. He is not going to show you any mercy if you screw this up. Oh god I wish he wouldn’t show me any mercy….. wait, no! Snap out of it! Keep your game face on. He could look over here at any time and size you up. Size. Up. How the hell can one man make drinking coffee look like something out of a porno? ……. Did he just lick his mug? Why did he have to do that? He must know I’m standing here. But he hasn’t even looked over here yet. Probably a good thing. One glance and I might want him to fuck me over a table. …..My god!! Is that all I think about these days?! Get your head out of his pants, Mac!

Maybe coffee wasn’t such a good idea. “Peppermint tea, please.” And after a thought. “In a take out cup, if it is not too much trouble.” He offered the woman a pleasant but simple smile.

He paid with his change. Normally a way of looking humble to the patrons at his meetings but as the woman went about counting out the coins in a cheery manner, Mac felt nothing short of utterly foolish.

He still hadn’t looked over here.

Taking his cup with a nod of thanks, Mac took in one last breath to clear out the insanity and made his way over to the table by the window. The man didn’t appear to have a briefcase with him, a clipboard, hell Mac didn’t even see a pen residing in his pocket. He looked like perhaps he was just there for a casual evening alone. A folded but clearly already read newspaper rested on the table. The mug was balanced in his fingers.

Mac sat across from him. He didn’t trust himself to give the customary handshake in greeting.

He still didn’t look over.

A pause.

Another breath.

First words…. first words…

Mac opened his mouth finally but it was not his voice that suddenly filled the silence.

“Normally,” his companion spoke, dark grey eyes peering out the window. “When you set up a meeting, it’s considered impressionable if you show up early rather then on time.”

He’d lost him at normally. Though Mac looked focused, face business-like and posture set properly, on the inside his mind was spinning, finally putting a voice to all of those, uh, daydreams he had numurously thought up.

Please stop talking.‘ Was all he could think, eyes taking a moment to slide over the shape of his lips while he still seemed keen enough to not bother giving Mac proper attention.

Until he did.


Catching the dark gaze that finally met his own bright blue eyes, Mac cleared his throat and smiled. Business. This was business. “My apologizes. I was under the impression that I was meeting simply with someone who would be respresenting the company. I was not made aware that I would be meeting someone of such a standing and long list of accomplishments.”

It was a lie.

“That’s a lie.”

……. what?

The grip of uncertainty clung to his nerves and in three short words Microsoft, CEO of his company’s biggest problem, had managed to make him go from hormonal young adult pinning for contact to a well practiced business man trying to save grace.

“I assure you that–“

“You paid in change.”

Mac froze. So he had been paying attention? But he hadn’t even looked over. He laughed, trying to make light but it came out nervous. Shit, where had his confidence gone from five minutes ago? “Yes, well, I was hoping to–“

“When you want to impress someone of a lower social standing, you bring a credit card. The higher the card, the higher your respect. It gives the illusion of money… of power. Now if you wished to impress someone of genuine power, well you wouldn’t want to impress them at all. The object of the game is to uphold their power, respect it, nuture it and cater to it in order to ultimately squash and undermine it.” Microsoft set his mug down on the table with a quiet click.

Sitting back, he folded his fingers together, elbows propped on the arms of the chair. His expression never wavered. “I remain unflattered by your apparent use of clever tactics. I also have little patience and am known for walking out on people I deem not worth my time.” His gaze locked with Mac and the poor boy felt his stomach cave. “You have five minutes. Dazzle me.”

And dazzle Mac tried. As soon as Microsoft had given him the breath to, he tried everything in his power to swallow his doubts, remember his experience and exactly why he was there. He spoke non stop and kept his accusations at a minimum. He may have seen through Mac’s vain attempt but that didn’t mean he was giving up on such a plan. He may have been young and very much a junior to Microsoft’s experience in this business but his company was still biting at his heels and he still had every right to sit there and deal out these facts as any other director on his board.

He was the innovation, after all.

And in five minutes, Mac had sworn he had never appeared more business like. He had come in guns blazing, to being a hormonal wreck, to being a puddle at his feet…. to having that puddle morph back into the image of a young man, firm in his beliefs and in his product. Every word was calculated, diagnosed and preped for this moment.

And at the end of five minutes, while Mac was still mid sentence, Microsoft sighed, uncurled his fingers and rose.

“What are you doing? I’m not done!” He snapped, completely without thinking. The moment the words had left his mouth, Mac felt that persona begin to fade and he tried desperately to grab ahold of it again.

But the man had stopped. Whether it was in surprise for the childish reaction or to utter something in retatliation, it wasn’t known. His expression remained as bored as when Mac had first walked in and saw him licking at the rim of his coffee mug.

Certain that he had just blown this entire meeting out of the water, Mac rose to his feet as well, peppermint tea completely untouched and opened his mouth to begin his strategic apologizes.

Only to have the words catch in his throat when Microsoft simply replied, “Let’s go for a ride.”


Fifteen minutes later, while the sun was beginning to show signs of setting, Mac was trying to figure out how he had wound up from a coffee shop trying to save his career to pressing his briefcase to his lap and trying deperately to only breath through his mouth.

This was torture.

He had to have known that.

This is why he had decided, with no explanation, to move this meeting into his two passanger sports car that Mac was starting to wonder if he rubbed his bloody clothes over every inch of because he was beginning to get fairly certain he could almost taste the man driving.

And it wasn’t helping either that he hadn’t said a damn word since they’d started driving. There wasn’t even a radio turned on to fill the silence and allow Mac to attempt at a distraction. Why had he even gone ahead, without question, and agreed to go on this ride? This hadn’t been anywhere in his plan. Though by the way Microsoft was driving, full concentration on the road, he was starting to wonder if it was his…

God, he wanted air.

Pressing the briefcase to his lap, shifting in his seat, he found himself disagreeing.

No. He needed air.

His smell was everywhere. On everything.

If he didn’t crack a window or something soon, he was going to have an obvious problem that he had learned from experience did not just go away because he asked it to.

Fingers hesitantly reached out to push the button labelled for the window.

“Don’t bother. We’ll be getting out soon.”

So he didn’t. His fingers drew back and he looked up expecting houses, street signs and people. Instead, to his heavy surprise, his eyes were met with trees, a deadend dirt road cut off by a fence and, looking over his shoulder, no highway anywhere in sight.

Looking from the rear window to the man in the driver’s seat, he was met with silence again. “Umm….. where are we?” He wasn’t interuptted that time.

“Get out.”

……. Wait, what? “We’re in the middle of nowhere, on some random farmer’s cattle road and you expect me to just–?”

Microsoft gave him a side glance, fingers reaching up to loosen his tie. “I said: get. out.”

And he did. Without question. As he shut the passanger door behind himself, he was starting to notice a pattern. He was not liking this pattern.

But his wish has been granted. So he let himself take in a long, slow breath of fresh air, attempting to rid himself of the musk that now plagued his senses. Much better. A man could breath out here!

“Come here.”

Attention caught, Mac looked over to the other who was now standing in front of his car. His tie was loosened, the top button of his collar popped and his suit jacket was missing. It was currently laying across the hood of the car. What really caught his young eyes, however, was the fact that Microsoft was pointing not in front of him, not beside him…. but to the hood.

And though his expression didn’t say it, his state of undress and the firm manner in which he pointed gave Mac the impression that he was running low on patience.

So although the scene was suspisious and although the man had clearly offered no validating reasons as to why he should have even got into the car in the first place…. he walked forward.

Forward… forward… forward… until he was standing before the man, looking up at him. Yep. Just as tall as he had remembered him.


As Mac slowly turned to sit on the car hood, he was starting to wonder where on earth his stubborn bones had gone to. He’d never been so obediant. So why him…..?

Like Mac really had to ask himself that. This was the man, who upon first meeting, had sent him almost immediately to a public restroom to masturbate over the scent of his suit.

If Mac had had a single bone of protest when it came to this man, it had vanished the first time he’d cried out a stranger’s name into an empty stall.

Life outside his head seemed to continue without his presence, however, because when he came to again, there was a hand pressed between his legs to the hood of the car not inches from his groin and a face he has only ever had to imagine hovering not centimeters from his face.

He swallowed. “I’m dreaming,” was the whisper.

This was torture.

“Heard you were begging for me a few nights ago.” Had his voice sounded so smooth earlier?

Wait, that sounded like a question. Or was he stating? God, he couldn’t think with him this close. Just to tilt up his chin. That would be all it would take. Just a tilt. He should.

“I never thought I would have the issue but I found out that I don’t take too kindly to having sex with people when I’m not even there.”

Had he just said sex? This close? Yes, please. God, please. Don’t take kindly at all.

“…You’re not even here, are you?”

Very much here. Mac was pretty certain he had never felt so in the moment as right in that moment. “Maybe…?”

“I never took you for one to hitch a ride on someone like Firefox.”


Who the hell– oh, right, duh. Of course.

……. hang on……..

Mac’s face dropped. “That son of a— hah!”

The moment the swear had been on the edge of his tongue, Microsoft had shifted his hand up the hood to press firmly to the already growing arousal tucked away in his dress pants. With his head tilted back a bit in surprise, his hands had reached out to grasp onto the man’s sleeves as he took in a sharp breath to avoid passing out from shock.

This was actually happening, wasn’t it?

“Good now I have your full attention.”

“You can have my anything, just don’t remove your hand.” He gasped, trying not to act like a bloody virgin but his… scent….touch…

“On second thought, I can definitely see how someone like you would hitch a ride on someone like Firefox.”

“……………………………….I said that out loud, didn’t I?” His ears grew red but all of his focus was currently on the palm pressing small circles in his crotch. He bit his lip. ‘Don’t sound needy, don’t sound needy…

“Very clearly.” Microsoft nudged at his nose in preparation for what Mac was certain was going to be a kiss when he simply brushed it along his cheek. He then rested their temples together, palm pressing a bit more firmly. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Mac shivered. If his scent had been overpowering, then his voice so close to his ear was godly.

“Well? Get on with it, then.”

On? Get on what? Wait, no, with what? Although… the question fell through as soon as Microsoft’s lips grazed his ear.

“I want to see you fall apart.” The man spoke, voice low and teeth nipping at the lobe. “Macintosh.”

And instantly, Mac’s entire mind came to a crushing halt. Every molecule that was still chalking this up to some sort of dream come true fantasy was hung. The notion that maybe he was just having a very vivid dream? Beheaded. This wasn’t some stranger’s body who was slowly curling around him: this was the stranger’s body. Not an image he’d conjured up in a bathroom stall. He was real, he was warm and he was right. fucking. there.

A heavy swallow.

“……..fuck me.”

His voice was so quiet and so breathy that he wasn’t surprised when Microsoft pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. He closed his own. He didn’t think he could muster up the courage to repeat it if he was face to face with that stare.

His breath was uneven, hips pressing up just enough to get noticed, fingers coming up to pull lightly at his collar. A kiss. He wanted a kiss. A kiss would complete this.

Another swallow. “Fuck me.”

In the short pause that followed, it almost felt like he’d smirked but when Mac let his eyes flicker open, he saw the same expressionless face staring back at him. The palm kneading into his crotch was lifting, finger tips now pressing lightly to his lower lip. “You’re a bit young to be making such demands.”

With a bit more force then was likely necessary, Microsoft gripped his jaw and shoved him back with a bang, pressing his head firmly to the hood of the car. Though he’d wanted to give a shout of protest, the only sound that came forth from him was a quiet keen, his body arching a bit as the throb settled in.

That one was going to leave a mark.

“I don’t think you heard me.” Microsoft’s voice had dipped dangerously and that seemed to only set fire to Mac’s nerves, eyes still wide in surprise. “I said get on with it.”

Mac didn’t need another word to fulfill that order.

FIN ★ ☆ ★ Constructive critique always welcome!

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