Arthur finishes his conversation with Mr. Saito and his senior staff, all charming smiles and professional politeness until he signs off of Skype. He looks down at his lap and glares.
"Eames," Arthur hisses with a lick of his lips, his collared shirt adhering to the damp skin on his back. "I was on a motherfucking video conference call to Tokyo just now." Eames' crooked grin flashes up at him from the shadows under his desk; his lips red and shiny-slick.
"That frown does nothing to detract from the post-orgasm glow in your cheeks, darling."
"Oh for god's sake." Arthur grabs the glass of iced water with a little slice of lemon in it that Eames brought him and presses the cool side to his face.
Arthur had actually ended the call before he climaxed and blamed trouble with his internet connection when he phoned Saito back a minute later. It was ashamedly unprofessional of him, but what else was he supposed to do? Feign a coughing fit and cover his face? That would have been terribly inadequate.
"They were probably wondering why I kept loosening my tie every ten seconds."
"I was doing you a favour. Testing the limits of your composure. But even you can't keep from becoming hopelessly unravelled." There's that grin again and Arthur fancies wiping it right off his ridiculously handsome face.
"You really are the worst office assistant I've ever had, and that's including that Fischer kid," Arthur sighs. "I gave you these documents to photocopy hoping to keep you occupied, and look what happens," Arthur huffs, waving the large stack of papers in Eames' face dramatically.
"But I give the best blow jobs, you cannot deny," Eames smirks. Well, that's one thing Arthur can't argue with.
"Smug fucker," Arthur growls as he replaces the documents, his voice having taken on a dangerous edge. "Can't keep that slutty mouth of yours away from my cock for more than an hour, can you?" Eames shifts on his knees expectantly and Arthur pushes his fancy executive chair back from his desk with his socked feet. "You must be punished. Get out from under there."
Arthur stands and pulls his suit trousers up his thighs, then heads towards his door to make sure it's locked. Eames leans on the edge of his desk casually, waiting for Arthur to deliver his sentence. The other man sits back down in his chair and rests both hands on the leather arms.
"Drop your pants," Arthur orders, and Eames wastes no time in complying.
"Bend over."
Eames clears some space on Arthur's desk - papers, coffee mug and Rubik's cube - and leans over it with his arse curving in Arthur's direction.
Arthur scoffs. "Not on the desk, over my knees."
Eames turns to him with a tinge of humiliation appearing on his cheeks, and this time it's Arthur's turn to smirk at him. "Please, or I'll have you re-organising the office supply closet for the rest of the afternoon."
Re: EVERYONE YOU SAY??? (Fill: currently untitled Office Porn 1/?)
* * *
Arthur finishes his conversation with Mr. Saito and his senior staff, all charming smiles and professional politeness until he signs off of Skype. He looks down at his lap and glares.
"Eames," Arthur hisses with a lick of his lips, his collared shirt adhering to the damp skin on his back. "I was on a motherfucking video conference call to Tokyo just now." Eames' crooked grin flashes up at him from the shadows under his desk; his lips red and shiny-slick.
"That frown does nothing to detract from the post-orgasm glow in your cheeks, darling."
"Oh for god's sake." Arthur grabs the glass of iced water with a little slice of lemon in it that Eames brought him and presses the cool side to his face.
Arthur had actually ended the call before he climaxed and blamed trouble with his internet connection when he phoned Saito back a minute later. It was ashamedly unprofessional of him, but what else was he supposed to do? Feign a coughing fit and cover his face? That would have been terribly inadequate.
"They were probably wondering why I kept loosening my tie every ten seconds."
"I was doing you a favour. Testing the limits of your composure. But even you can't keep from becoming hopelessly unravelled." There's that grin again and Arthur fancies wiping it right off his ridiculously handsome face.
"You really are the worst office assistant I've ever had, and that's including that Fischer kid," Arthur sighs. "I gave you these documents to photocopy hoping to keep you occupied, and look what happens," Arthur huffs, waving the large stack of papers in Eames' face dramatically.
"But I give the best blow jobs, you cannot deny," Eames smirks. Well, that's one thing Arthur can't argue with.
"Smug fucker," Arthur growls as he replaces the documents, his voice having taken on a dangerous edge. "Can't keep that slutty mouth of yours away from my cock for more than an hour, can you?" Eames shifts on his knees expectantly and Arthur pushes his fancy executive chair back from his desk with his socked feet. "You must be punished. Get out from under there."
Arthur stands and pulls his suit trousers up his thighs, then heads towards his door to make sure it's locked. Eames leans on the edge of his desk casually, waiting for Arthur to deliver his sentence. The other man sits back down in his chair and rests both hands on the leather arms.
"Drop your pants," Arthur orders, and Eames wastes no time in complying.
"Bend over."
Eames clears some space on Arthur's desk - papers, coffee mug and Rubik's cube - and leans over it with his arse curving in Arthur's direction.
Arthur scoffs. "Not on the desk, over my knees."
Eames turns to him with a tinge of humiliation appearing on his cheeks, and this time it's Arthur's turn to smirk at him. "Please, or I'll have you re-organising the office supply closet for the rest of the afternoon."