Work Text:
“You’re seeing someone, aren’t you.”
It wasn’t a question; it was a formal statement, coming from a deep-seated place of awareness that shook Gigi to her core. Reagan, of all people, magically becoming concerned with her employees and their personal lives. Someone pop a bottle of champagne to mark a metamorphic turning point for Cognito Inc. and its new insociable CEO, because Gigi was reeling.
Glenn appeared next to them with a flash of suspicion in his eyes. “Yeah, now that you mention it, Gigi hasn’t called me an ‘anamorphic waste of space’ in a couple of days.” He snapped his fingers, an imaginary light bulb appearing over his head. “That obviously means she’s getting laid!”
Gigi rubbed at her temples, taking a sip from her drink. “What are you two asswipes on? Did Andre hook you up with something from his special briefcase? I may be the hottest piece of meat in this building, but tell me why I would give anyone the time of day when I’m working on the slimiest, smelliest scoop of faux bumf bullshit this sack of shit corporation has ever seen? Gigi’s on her A-game, bitches, and she doesn’t have time for sweaty supply closet hookups when she’s busy leaking Robert Wagner’s 30 year old confession tape.”
Maybe it was the shitty break room lighting, but Reagan’s eyes began to darken maliciously, a sly inflection to her voice. She raised a roguish brow. “I didn't say anything about sweaty supply closet hookups.”
Gigi calmly spooned yogurt into her mouth, leaning toward her boss. “WWRD. What Would Reagan Do? I have this blurry memory of you and your unfortunate boy toy— whom I’ve conveniently forgotten the name of— hockey-pucking between closets like you guys would melt if you saw each other’s faces in the light of day. That’s only why I brought it up.” She grinned, reaching for her bottle of water again. “You gotta stop projecting, Reagan. It’s really getting out of hand.”
If Reagan still didn’t believe Gigi’s claims, she didn't mention it, because Brett suddenly came bounding through the door, thunderously exclaiming he was going through his own sidequest and that he was finally going to try the Fall Harvest Fluoride Wetzel's Pretzels flavor, even if it gave him severe heartburn. Gigi inwardly thanked him and his endearing half-witted naivety. In a second they were probably gonna call Myc in so he could swim around in her brain like the gross little freak he was. No thanks.
“On that note,” she cooly bobbed her head over to Reagan and Glenn, “I should go. I have something important I need to do.”
Minutes later, Gigi was being slammed against a shelf by Andre, legs wrapped around his waist as he jackhammered into her. A bottle of Windex boinked her on the head from up above, spilling open once it hit the floor. Slipping on it, Andre squeezed her ass harder for leverage which in turn awakened an ancient, horny kink within Gigi that made her realize sex bruises were hotter than her new purple Louboutins.
His hand traveled down to rub her clit as he pounded into her, the sensation making her unconsciously whine out with such a powerful form of primal energy, an employee walking past the door outside thought there was a dying cat somewhere in the building.
“You know—” Gigi breathed between plows, “they’re onto us.”
Andre didn’t falter, only switched angles, pulling her bra up so his mouth could find her breast. He glanced up, tongue whirling around a nipple. “You mean they care?”
“Oh,” she mewled when he hit a spot that made her legs wobble. “—they care. We should stay clear of Myc. Surprised he hasn’t reached his little grippers in our brains and helped himself yet. It’s like an all-you-can-eat buffet for him.” She squinted her eyes. “You know what, now that I think about it, it’s probably some weird little sex thing with him, edging his telepathy until full release or something. Slimy shroom goblin.”
The metal shelf rattled next to them in time with Andre’s thrusts. “Yeah,” he groaned into Gigi’s chest, “about that…would it be so bad if everyone found out? What happened at the company Christmas party is common knowledge around the office by now. I mean, all the sneaking around and fucking next to mop buckets is sexy as shit, don’t get me wrong, but we’re talking about the team here. Where's the fire? You act like us becoming public would turn you into the next Bill Clinton.”
Gigi let her feet hit the ground, fisting his lab coat and swinging him around full force so their positions were switched. “But I like sneaking around. Your dick in this closet is all I can think about. Fucking me hard against this dirty concrete wall. Or maybe even…” Gigi reached down and grabbed Andre’s shaft, slowly pulling him out of her. She pushed him to the ground and got on her knees, ramming herself onto his cock, hopping up and down, hands running over his chest. “—fucking you against this filthy, grimy floor. Huh? I bet you’d love that, you nasty little pervert.”
Whimpering, Andre scrambled to grip Gigi’s thighs, fingers scratching across her skin, leaving hasty, sloppy marks she’d later look at and revel.
“Please do that again, oh fuck, Gigi, you feel so good inside me.” His hands traveled to her breasts, kneading, massaging them with his thumbs, sucking at her neck. Her cunt twitched when he started working on her bundle of nerves again, slipping two fingers downwards.
In the height of the pleasure, Gigi riding Andre's dick into the ground, slanting her body so she could hit that special spot, there was a screaming turmoil inside her head, punching at the glass, struggling to break free. Andre may have forgotten his point about the team for now, but she knew it wasn't exactly put to rest either. She’d have to face this emotional, soul-stirring inner roadblock sooner or later; she just didn’t know when.
“You know what? I am sensing some sexual luster on her now. Her whole vibe is just different, it’s like there’s this sheen of horny gloss illuminating through every crack and crevice of her being, improving her attitude and actually making her tolerate all of you clowns! Truly remarkable for someone as perpetually bitchy as—”
Reagan slammed the laptop screen down on her father, whom she was facetiming from the shadow prison, long-distance fees bypassed by her system hacking skills, of course.
“Sorry, I feel like he was about to get borderline misogynistic right there so I thought I would save everyone the trouble.”
Gigi squeezed her morning cup of tea in her fist until it exploded upwards toward the ceiling, raining over her head as it spewed down. Brett did a nosedive to the ground and positioned his arms over his head, proceeding to squat like they used to teach you in elementary school when there was a tornado warning.
“You know I can easily find wherever that prison is. Wherever that wrinkly old geezer’s rotting or doing the jailhouse rock or whatever the fuck he does there. I can find him. I’m one call away. I have hookups, you know. More deep-stated than all you motherfuckers combined!” She wielded the broken mug like a weapon, waving it around. Glenn nervously backed away, cradling his own mug like an infant.
Reagan ignored her, backtracking to the original conversation. “Speaking of hookups, why won’t you just admit it? You are so lucky Myc’s on vacation this week, I mean, I can clearly see that new hickey on the left side of your neck below the birthmark shaped like Georgia. I can admit all this secrecy is pretty hot, but you’re not fooling anyone, Gigi. Come on, who are they?”
Andre chose that exact moment to meander into the room, eyes playfully flitting over to Gigi. “Yeah, Gigi, it’s about time you tell us. Why keep secrets from the people who create them?” He brushed an imaginary piece of fuzz off his shirt, sending a quick blink-and-you’ll-miss-it wink in her direction.
Oh, she spitefully thought to herself, he was definitely in for it now.
Andre was promptly shoved against the supply closet wall that afternoon, Gigi being possessed by the spirits of both vengeance and retribution as she yanked his tie to the side, choking him out with it. The buckles on his belt were popped open by deft hands, taking hold of his length, pumping up and down hard.
“Hello my little greasy weasel. Is this okay?” The tip of her thumb ran over the precum already leaking from his cock, and she tightened her grip on his tie. “That was real bold of you earlier, teasing me like that in front of everyone. You’re so funny, Andre, but maybe you should be quiet sometimes!”
Sobbing with sudden pleasure, Andre’s hands wrapped around her wrists and he leaned into her touch, aching to be manhandled by her. “Jesus, Gigi, yes,oh god yes, take me now. You’re so beautiful when you get like this.” His hand came up and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. She jolted back like she was electrocuted, letting him drop to the ground.
“Why do you have to be so sweet to me when you know I’m not good for anything besides a good fuck.”
There it was, the truth finally seeping out of every cranny and pore of her shaking body, erupting like Pompeii over their flawless, bookended arrangement. Nothing more than sex. Nothing less. She could handle that. That’s what she did best. No strings attached between two bookends. Her emotional intelligence was practically nonexistent, so she swallowed her pride by fucking and screwing and nailing, just to ignore it for a little while longer. Besides being a cutthroat media manipulationist, that was all she was good for.
From the floor, Andre watched her pant and thrash away the last of her disguise, eyes forlorn. He spoke quietly. “Is that what you really think of yourself?”
“I don’t think, Andre, I know.”
Downcasted eyes and quivering hands, she parted away from him. “Dredging up yesterday, the reason why I can’t let the team find out is because that would mean we’re real, Andre. This thing between us, whatever it is, has pushed me to realize I feel something for you. But I’m so scared, Andre, I’m so scared because I don’t know how to be the perfect cookie-cutter girlfriend you think you want. I don’t even think I’ve held anyone’s hand before, let alone committed to a relationship I’m so terrified of losing because my perpetual hard as nails demeanor could very well drive them away, drive you away. And you would be so horrified to discover that I rub one out to the 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice every night because Mr. Darcy is the epitome of the female gaze, and you would so wholeheartedly hate me forever because you’d find out I absolutely loathe Friends, I mean, if you cut the laugh track Ross sounds like a sociopath and Monica shouldn’t be sitting on his lap like that, for Christ’s sake, they’re siblings!”
She broke off into a silent gasp, collapsing to the ground, hands covering her face in shame. Turning away from the person before her was the only way to keep her heart of stone intact. Bringing him into the mess she was, letting him truly know her…she just couldn’t let that happen. Gigi knew she went too fast for someone like Andre, and he was bound to get left in the dust.
Feeling a warm pressure surrounding her body, Gigi uncovered her eyes, pausing when Andre’s scent enveloped her, his lips finding the top of her head. “I also hold a great disdain for Friends if it’s any consolation,'' he confessed, mumbling into her hair. “Like, how come it’s so widely adored when Rachel literally quit her dream job in Paris for a dry-as-dust guy like Ross? I would never hold you back from getting that spot in the Illuminati you’ve always wanted, even if they’re all spineless knobs.” He took an intake of breath, gearing up for the kicker. “And all the casual sexism? No thanks!”
Gig found herself trying to stifle a giggle in Andre’s neck, but he caught her, lifting her head up, hands cupping her cheeks.
“And hey, you’re a tad bit emotionally stunted, but you’re still cute, I guess.” He mischievously tickled her sides, Gigi breaking into a full-blown cackle. “It’s nothing we can’t work on together, if you’re willing to sleep on it. On us.”
The glimmer in his eyes gave Gigi the first ounce of hope she had in a while. Nodding in agreement, she captured his mouth in a kiss. “Okay,” she spoke with determination, “I’ll think about it. About us.”
Softly kissing her back, he reached for one of her hands. “Also, in attendance with that potential milestone, you can finally say you’ve held someone’s hand!” Andre squealed in excitement, waving their joined hands around like he just won a prize at the arcade. “What a charmer you are, Gigi Luigi.” He planted a kiss on her hand, horrible British accent activated. "You have bewitched me, body and soul.”
He waggled his eyebrows as he recited the quote from her favorite movie, and she jokingly swatted his hand away, but kept it close to her heart, laughing with a new sense of joy that she’d never felt before with anyone.