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“Sorry,” said the voice on the phone, sounding harried and ready to pop. “We’re seriously behind schedule on our morning appointments. We’re just sending you one guy.”
“One person?” Claude looked around at his apartment. Everything was in boxes, all his mess packed neatly away in preparation for his move. But there was a reason he’d booked a moving company. There was no way one person could move all this alone - not even if Claude helped them. “But I’ve got furniture -”
“Don’t worry,” the moving company operator said. “He’s our best guy.” And then they hung up.
Claude stared at his phone. It was way too late to find a new company - he had to be out by the end of the day. He’d just have to help the moving guy with the furniture and maybe some of the boxes. At least he didn’t have that much furniture, and most of it he’d broken down into pieces. They’d go way over the time allotted for the move, but it was their mistake, so he could argue himself out of extra charges. He could make this work.
There was a knock at the door. He wouldn’t have time to do a few stretches to limber himself up for all this lifting, then. Damn.
“Hey, glad you’re here,” he said as he opened the door. “They told me what happened, so I’m ready to help out…” His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the man outside his apartment. His usually clever tongue chose that moment to desert him. “Um.”
The man was gorgeous. Tall, blond, his hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. He wore a black t-shirt with the moving company’s logo on it, fitting tightly enough to show the outline of his muscles beneath. Claude managed to resist the urge to check out how tight his jeans fit (maybe later). He couldn’t stop staring.
“Oh, that’s all right,” the man said. His voice was gentler than Claude had expected. Polite. “You paid us to move for you. All I ask is that you make certain to stop me if I get careless with anything fragile - I’ll be working faster than normal.”
“Uh,” Claude said, intelligently, and somehow managed to kickstart his brain. “You sure about that? I’ve got furniture, and there’s just you.” As gorgeous - and large - as this guy was, Claude doubted he could handle it all himself.
The man smiled at him, and Claude swore his knees went weak. “I’m sure. And I’m Dimitri, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Claude,” Claude said. “Nice to meet you too, handsome.” He reached out to take Dimitri’s hand, flashing him a smile. He was quietly amazed at himself - Claude was comfortable with flirting, but usually didn’t jump into it so quickly. He was normally careful with new people. Cautious.
It’s just that Dimitri was the hottest man he’d ever seen.
Dimitri blinked once, looking at him with wide eyes, and then flushed and shook his hand. “Um, I - I should get started.”
As he turned away and began to survey the boxes, Claude ruefully kicked himself. Too much, too fast. He didn’t even know if Dimitri liked guys. He didn’t want to be known as that weird customer who’d sexually harrassed him. He’d keep his borderline weird comments to himself. He’d keep his thoughts pure and clean, devoid of anything but respect for a (gorgeous) man doing a difficult job.
And, in Claude’s defense, he almost managed to. He was doing really well right up until Dimitri picked up the loveseat. The entire loveseat. That was just unfair. Who could pick up an entire loveseat by themselves? Though the unwieldy shape of it clearly made it difficult for him to move, the weight didn’t make him strain. Not the tiniest bit.
Claude’s mind - more accurately, his hormones - went wild. It had been bad enough watching this gorgeous hunk of a man lifting his boxes as if they were nothing, but this? This should be criminal. Or at least the thoughts it caused in Claude should be, because boy was he having them.
If Dimitri could pick up a sofa (albeit a small one) that easily, imagine how easily he could pick up Claude. How easily he could hold him down - with one hand, probably. And if Dimitri could manhandle him that easily… well, Claude had always been pretty flexible, thanks to the gymnastics he’d done for part of his life. Almost unbidden came the thought of Dimitri holding him up, Claude’s legs wrapped around his waist, Dimitri deep inside him -
The pure thoughts thing was not going well.
“I’ll get you some water,” Claude said, and rushed out of the room before he could say anything, because he was fairly sure if he did it would be so incredibly beyond appropriate that he would deserve whatever weird reputation he got.
He was just lucky he hadn’t gotten a hard-on from those very vivid mental images.
He got himself some water, too, and stayed in the kitchen until he felt less flushed. Less… aroused. Then he brought Dimitri water, gave him a purely appreciative and respectful smile (which also made Dimitri blush, and Claude tried not to notice that), and let him get back to work.
Claude finished the cleaning as Dimitri loaded his truck. He’d been planning to just take the bus to his new place (who had a car these days?), but unsurprisingly Dimitri - who was incredibly polite - insisted on giving him a ride. (Claude didn’t swoon. Okay, maybe a little. Just in his heart.) At the end, Dimitri unloaded while Claude gave directions and began to set things up. All the while, Claude kept his comments friendly and no more, resisting the incredibly strong urge to flirt. Or to find some excuse to get his hands on Dimitri. Or both.
They did talk, though. Claude learned that Dimitri was naturally strong, but also spent a lot of time at the gym - “A good way to work off stress,” he said, and though Claude could think of some better ways he did not share them. He learned a little about Dimitri’s family, about where he’d come from, the rescue dog he had waiting for him at home. But Dimitri kept it professional, and so did Claude, and by the time they were all finished Claude could at least congratulate himself for a job well done.
He thanked Dimitri too, of course. “I really didn’t think you could do it alone, but… wow.” He grinned. “And on time, too. Am I allowed to tip you? Or give you a beer or something?”
“Not a beer,” Dimitri said, somewhat awkwardly, and fidgeted for just a moment in Claude’s doorway. “What about - ah - your number?”
It was so unexpected after all their polite, professional talk that Claude just stared at him for a moment, and Dimitri started to backtrack.
“If you don’t want to, that’s perfectly all right. I didn’t mean to be pushy - it’s only you’re very attractive, and I got the impression you were flirting - I’m so sorry -”
Claude put a stop to it before Dimitri could really get the wrong idea. “I was flirting,” he said, and now there was no way he could stop himself from smiling. “And you can absolutely have my number.” He followed that up with a wink, and this time when Dimitri went pink, Claude let himself think for a moment about all the other ways he might make Dimitri flush.
He had a lot of ideas.