crush imagines (he/him crush)

elevator part 2 (m)(request)

I studied his feet as we glided down floor after floor. They were almost oafish in his long loafers. My gaze traveled up to his legs, thin yet well defined through his slacks. He had one thumb dangling on the edge of his front pocket, and a rolled up magazine jammed in his back pocket. His hands were slender, firm, and veiny, and I resisted the urge to grab one just to feel it flex. 

He'd opened his collared shirt, and the plain white tank underneath revealed a toned torso. I shivered when he stretched slightly, cracking his knuckles as he raised his arms above his head, allowing me to catch a glance of his muscles flexing and releasing. He was so effortlessly cool and collected, the type of man that I'd only read about in books. 

Little did I know, he was doing a little inspection of his own. 

His eyes grazed my lips, then my collarbone, exposed in my silk blouse. He stared at the beauty mark on my upper chest, blinking fast as if willing it to disappear, willing it to stop tempting him. His eyes traveled to my breasts, then my waist, and rested on the little bit of paunch showing between my shirt and pants. He exhaled slightly, eyes practically glazing over. He glanced at my ass and thighs, clenching his jaw. He moved his gaze to my ankles, fully visible above my flats, and suddenly he felt like quite fully understood the desires of a 19th century man. 

The tense silence was interrupted by a loud thump, an amplified version of the ones we'd heard in the morning. Then a slight lurch. We were suspended. 

After helplessly pushing buttons for a while, with no response due to the completely vacant building, he managed to call a colleague, with whom we entrusted the responsibility of contacting building maintenance.

In the meantime, I collapsed onto the ground, retrieving some emergency snacks (trail mix and clementines, how romantic) from my purse and leaning my head against the wall. He paced for a while, muttering something about a dog (not a black cat, to my surprise), and calling who I presumed was a roommate. Meanwhile, I tore into the trail mix, anxiously nibbling on each individual nut and raisin to distract myself from impending doom.

Finally, he collapsed next to me and extended a hand for some trail mix. I reluctantly shook some into his palm, and to my dismay, he tipped his head back and ate the whole pile in one bite. He brushed his hands on his inevitably expensive pants and held his hand out for another palmful. I drew the bag closer to my chest. 

"No," I shot, picking a peanut out and slowly chewing it. "You just ate, like, a quarter of the bag in one bite."

"It's more enjoyable that way."

I snorted. "We need it to last. What if we're stuck here until the morning?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

I scowled and turned away from him slightly. He huffed and walked to the other side of the elevator, eyes stormy. 

I ended up putting the trail mix back into my bag, as I didn't want to torture him. He stupidly messed around with Angry Birds until his phone died, then threw a cursing fit and discarded it in his briefcase. 

"You're a dumbass," I quipped. 

"You're pissy."

"You're impulsive."

"You're—shivering?" 

He was right. I was freezing cold. Sometime in the quiet fuming period, I'd noticed how cold it was the elevator and reached into my purse, just to realize I'd left my sweater draped over my chair at the reception desk. I had been trying to hide my chattering teeth and rising goosebumps, but obviously, my efforts were unsuccessful.