Work Text:
So you don’t think you’ve ever actually wanted anyone before. So this is new. This is different. It’s awkward and painful and it feels like you’re about to burst when you look at him, but it’s new. It’s new and totally, completely inappropriate. There’s a niggling voice in the back of your head whispering about that when your mind starts wandering. That’s fine, you guess.
Because he’s genius, but not a mind reader. Thank god for that. There’d be more tension than you’d like if he was. Maybe it’d make it easier. If he could tell that there are times when you look at him and all you want is to pull him down by his stupid sweater and see just how well he kisses. If he knew that every accidental slip of the colorless leather he calls skin starts the images in your mind.
It’s a fantasy. You’re not ashamed of it, really. The idea of your boss – perfect as he is – giving into the most base of urges and pulling you into a disused office, clever, clever fingers working just right on bone – yeah, you’ll admit the idea’s gotten you off.
And then you’re staring at your boss during work hours, imagining him tall and towering and bare over you, and you’d be biting your lip if you had lips to bite.
And you don’t even think about sex on a normal occasion.
Oh, you have it bad.
You’ve picked up on hints, how it would be. In your mind, he’s the same kind of lover as he is a friend – overly caring, gentle, supportive, apologetic – awkward, spacey, passionate. In your mind, he’s a romantic. In your mind, he’s taking you by the sides of your skull, fingers cupped below the mandible, pressing his mind to yours and breathing deep, unnecessary breaths like he’d be ready to drink you in.
And that gets you off more than the idea of the sex. The intimacy, the care. God, you want him to care about you.
So you’re in love with your boss – smart man, most accomplished in his field, perfect in every way even if your judgement is so clouded by those feelings. So you want more than anything for him to love you back.
Sometimes you think about how easy it would be. Get together after work – friendly – and have a few drinks, lead one thing into another if he wants it to. And then you remember he doesn’t leave the lab and it spirals back to that first train of thought – the one where he’d fuck you in an office soft and slow and sweet – the one where he’d fuck you in an office quick and hard and dominating. Whichever it is – you don’t care. Anything as long as it’s his tongue on your pubis and his head between your femurs and his fingers around your spine.
It won’t be. You get that. So it’s fine. You’ll be at home after a long day and imagining your fingers were his and you’ll fall asleep next to a long line of pillows too tall for you but just tall enough for him. And you’ll fall asleep thinking he’s beside you.
And you’ll wake up alone in the morning. And you’ll do it all again.
So you never expected it to hurt this much. The pining. The wanting. Hell, you’d call it lust. Even if you really just want everything about him and can’t say a word.
Maybe you actually could. You’re new at this.
Maybe you’ll go over right now and tell him exactly what you’d want him to do. Maybe you’ll get hot at the way his entire face will flush that light, light grey. Maybe it’ll be you pulling him into that disused office and whispering about every single thing you want him to do to you.
Maybe you’ll sit here, looking at his blueprints, tracing your finger over his cryptic handwriting, fantasizing about how things could be just a little bit different.
Maybe when he asks if you can stay a bit later to finish your quota, you’ll let everything come out in a long, rambling stream, and he’ll listen and understand and tell you how dangerous letting that as a relationship go – and then he’ll either distance himself or throw caution to the wind.
But then, you guess that’d be his choice, wouldn’t it. Whether you succeed or you hate yourself a little more for wanting what you’re never going to get.
So maybe it’s better just not to do anything at all.
So maybe it’s always better like that.