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“Ah- ah- Stop- you can stop now…”
The grip on James’ hair relaxed and rough fingertips rubbed over his scalp, very nearly tenderly. A shaky hand brushed through his mussed hair and pet him, then tugged as he gave one final suck.
“Stop, it’s not happening-”
With a pop James dropped the cock he’d been suckling for a good five minutes from his mouth. A bit of spit smeared over his kiss swollen lower lip and he watched the result of his wasted efforts flop down onto the soft swell of a lightly furred belly. Though chubbed up in a valiant attempt, the cock was as flaccid as it had been when he first rubbed against it with his leg through two layers of denim. It was flushed red and looked embarrassed lying limp, mirroring the flushed face and sheepish expression Francis was sporting when James looked up.
“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day-”
Francis ran his hand over James’ face gently, tracing the lines of his jaw over where a bruise had left ugly splotches of purple then yellow and green half a year ago. The same hand that once had clumsily punched into James with a drunken rage now traced his lips with featherlight touches.
James smiled indulgently and leaned his cheek into Francis’ touch like a dog looking for affection.
“It’s alright,” he said, seeing the regretful expression on Francis’ face. He’d grown quite used to the sight ever since Francis had come back from rehab and took up the position of a genuinely good boss.
“Things like that happen, I don’t mind.”
Francis reached out with his other hand and cradled James’ face with such tenderness that James had to fight the impulse to pull away and hide from it. A thumb wiped over his lips and Francis carefully tucked some loose strands of hair behind James’ ear. His face was still flushed, even his chest had taken on a pinkish hue.
“I promised to fuck you hard. I would, even with something- I don't even have a dildo.”
James laughed at Francis’ embarrassed glance, unsure if he was more upset about not having sex toys, or having to mention the topic to begin with. He crawled up over Francis' body and laid down with his head cushioned on Francis’ chest.
“Next time,” James promised, feeling the way Francis’ cock made one last futile attempt to stiffen where it was pressed against his belly. “Can’t let you go without the Fitzjames experience.”
It was a stupid line, and somehow Francis still barked out a laugh. Perhaps he really was into James beyond immediate sexual gratification. Just half a year ago the line would have earned James the kind of half pitying half derisive stare that made him want to find the nearest hole to hide in.
Francis pulled him closer still and kissed him, nearly chastely after the evening they’d had. They shifted in the bed until they were on their sides, Francis pressed to James’ back. Gentle touches trailed up and down James’ side for a while, along with soft kisses against his nape. Within five minutes the touches slowed, and he heard a soft snore.
James sighed and waited for a few moments, listening as Francis drifted off to deeper sleep. Today had been their second official ‘date’, one where they weren't busy working overtime or having lunch at the desk in Francis’ office with their eyes glued to the screen. It had been a long week, a long day, and James had known that Francis was tired from the way he didn't even put any sugar into the bucket worth of coffee he’d consumed. There had been little to no chance for him to bounce on Francis’ cock the way he’d suggested whispering against Francis’ ear as they shared mocktails that evening.
When he was truly certain of Francis’ sleep, James carefully extracted himself from the embrace. He didn't bother putting on his discarded shirt or underpants. Francis lived alone and all the curtains were firmly shut. He tiptoed through the near total darkness, carefully finding his messenger bag and fishing out his phone to turn on the flashlight. The bedroom door had been left open so James snuck out with minimal risk of a creak alerting Francis. The floorboards barely made a noise as he moved through the house, quickly finding the office.
The room was nondescript, one desk, one filing cabinet, one shelf filled with identical ring binders. Unlabeled, unfortunately.
James let out a quiet sigh of frustration and turned on the desk lamp. He was sure whatever system Francis had set up was meticulously organised, but certainly not in a way that was meant for other people to make sense of. There was nothing James could do but carefully pull out each binder to check the contents and replace it where he had found it. Francis kept everything in there, bills, contracts, family photos for some reason-
It took James a while to find the five year old documents he needed. The ones from Francis’ time as department head, before Sir John left them. The files that would make James’ department run so much easier. The files Francis refused to digitise.
“Old codger,” James muttered as he flipped open the ring binder on the desk. There was the tiniest hint of affection in his voice. But only a hint.
He opened his phone camera and very carefully lined it up with the first page, making sure everything was in focus. If Francis wouldn't digitise the damn thing, then James would simply have to do it himself.
The idea had come a month ago in the breakroom, listening to Dundy curse about the gaps in their documentation from the recent department merging.
“Can’t he just bring those files to the office,” Dundy had complained as James idly stirred his tea, spoon clanking against the porcelain obnoxiously. “I bet you he’s lost them.”
“Francis is good at paperwork,” James said, eyes not moving from the hypnotic tea whirlpool in his cup. He knew that first hand, even if Francis's hand writing got somewhat illegible if the man was tired. Something that unfortunately was a common occurrence as the two of them worked tirelessly to keep the company from collapsing in the wake of a less than perfect leadership change.
Theoretically the files should all be in the office. Francis had simply kept a back up record of everything written out, even things that had been digital to begin with, or were saved onto easily corrupted formats, and since he worked at home whenever possible the papers went with him and didn’t make it back to the office. When he was in charge of one department only it didn’t matter to anyone. But with Sir John gone and everything essentially merged, suddenly the documents had become a Holy Grail among his former underlings.
“He was a raging drunk during that time,” Dundy had pointed out. “They're either missing or a mess. We should hire some catburglar who can carry a ton of paper, I don't think there’s any other way we’ll ever get those.”
James had looked up then, thinking back to the Halloween party at university where he’d dressed as Catwoman, making a bit of a fool of himself demonstrating his flexibility and gymnastics. And the way Francis sometimes would meet his eye over a late Tesco meal deal dinner, then blush and glance away again. There was attraction there that didn't crackle with aggression anymore, and James had to squeeze his thighs together uncomfortably as he imagined himself in a catsuit with Francis’ hands all over him.
It wouldn't be too hard to get into Francis’ house and office. With Francis’ constitution still recovering after rehab he wouldn't even have to do anything while there.
Now, naked in the middle of the night, James was quietly pleased at his stroke of genius. One knee on the seat of the office chair he took picture after picture of the files. The handwriting was atrocious, but James would be able to go through his phone later and type everything into an excel spreadsheet anyway. He wasn't even sure if he ought to congratulate himself or be a bit disappointed. Perhaps it would have been nice to know something other than his vibrator biblically, but he also was as tired as Francis. Bouncing on a cock all night was fine in his mid twenties, but in his mid thirties James knew his thighs wouldn't appreciate the workout at night.
When he was done James carefully put away the binder where he’d found it, turned off the light, and snuck back into the bedroom. Tomorrow was their first proper day off, and Francis’ bed was invitingly warm. James crawled back into position and carefully placed Francis’ arm over his waist. The man’s gentle snoring barely changed, and within moments James felt himself drifting off to sleep, congratulating himself on a job well done.