Archive of Our Own

He felt sorely out of place, always did at office parties. At least he was aware that the feeling was mutual, he knew there were at least four of his coworkers who were just as uncomfortable as he was. Could see it in the forced smiles, and the stilted nervous conversation that surrounded him. Nobody really wanted to come to these, but everyone put in an appearance. The promise of free booze helped incentivize attendance, and a breech of decorum that otherwise wouldn't be tolerated. If someone got too drunk and said something uncouth or dissenting about the work they did, it was politely overlooked.

Clyde even made a game of it. He'd spent enough time in the field to get a good read on a person. And an office party was a wonderful place to appreciate that skill. He could tell with a glance that roughly half of the people in the room were going to get too drunk. And half of them would stumblingly find their way into each other's pants. Sometimes he was wrong, most times he wasn't. Mentally he was placing bets. His leg twinged a little and it reminded him that he'd been rendered useless. Historical refinement his ass. Rat catching was a far cry from being a field agent, safer and a whole lot less interesting too.

Easterman's secretary was shamelessly flirting with one of the guys from the mail room. Mark, maybe. He wasn't too sure, he didn't spend much time around the mail room or any of the municipal offices that made Sinyala tick. Frankly he didn't care, as long as things got done and there wasn't anything of any interest to his investigation happening. But he couldn't lie, and say that he liked being a glorified desk jockey. Mostly is was paper work, and sorting through banal reports and files that were meaningless wastes of time. His job was now a wild goose chase. He resented the reassignment. Resented how useless it made him feel. He sat around on his ass all day and it left him surly and restless.

It could be entraining, watching his coworkers and underlings show their asses and then scabble to recover, but after a certain point it got to be irritating. Mostly he was watching Easterman, prepared to step in if he started to make a fool of himself. Which was often and the man couldn't even muster up the decency to be embarrassed by it. It was in his best interest to make sure that the man who employed him stayed out of a scandal, or at least such a public one. What the doctor did on his own time and behind closed doors was none of his concern. Nor could he say that he cared.

The punch was doing a poor job of disguising the taste of vodka; a cloying. almost nauseating taste coated the inside of his mouth. He was considering tossing the rest of it, the booze was making him feel fuzzy. Across the room he was watching as Easterman sidled up to group of fellow psychiatrists, the affect was almost immediate. Like watching a group a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. He took another sip from his punch, wrinkling his nose at the taste. At least the booze mellowed him out, made him a whole lot more tolerable of Easterman.

"I'm surprised you've stayed this long." It came from his left.

Clyde jumped, turning his head towards the man who had spoken. Moses Scarfiotti had managed to sneak up on him. The other man was leaning against the wall, his dark curly hair starting to fall out of its hold. A drink in his hand. "I told you not to do that." Clyde grumbled.

"I thought it was the other eye." Moses needled.

He glared at him. "It's the left. I've told you that it's the blue one a million times." He snapped. Moses got under his skin. Not in the same crawling uneasy way that Easterman could, more in a prickly itchy way. Sometimes it amused him, others it just pissed him off. Tonight he was feeling generous, and willing to entertain the other man.

"Not the sociable sort, I take it?" He asked, thumb ghosting over the rim of his glass.

"No, I'm just making sure that we all still have jobs by the end of the night." Clyde gestured towards Easterman across the room. Moses snorted, and took a sip from his drink.

"And how's that working out for you?"

"So far, fine. It'll get interesting when he really gets going." He answered dryly.

"You have fun with that." Moses scoffed.

"Just wait he'll disappear for a bit and come back jittery and half out of his mind." He said bitterly. It had gotten to a point, he should ask for a raise if Easterman kept forcing him to put up with him.

"Coke?"

"Coke, LSD, amphetamines, doesn't matter he'll do whatever he can get his hands on." He gestured again hardheartedly.

"Jesus. What do you do with him when he gets like that?"

"Usually, I just drag him off by the scruff of the neck and make him sleep it off in his office. Saves face and makes sure we both still have jobs." Clyde shrugged. The other man chuckled, half hiding his smile with his glass. He realized that Moses was more than tipsy, edging into the unprofessional, not that he would be the only one.

"Want to bet on how long it takes for him to disappear?"

Clyde snorted, eyes flicking over to Easterman again. The conversation that he was engaged in seemed to be turning sour. It would be any minute now and he'd be making his excuses and vanishing. When the doctor returned he'd be increasingly mosquitish and skittish. Rinse and repeat until he got too off putting and Clyde had to step in before he did any real damage.

"Not particularly. But I'll bet you that those two will have shacked up by the end of the night though." He pointed towards Easterman's secretary and the guy from the mail room. Moses followed the line of his point. The other man frowned, considering.

"Do you think all the way or just over the clothes?" Moses started before pausing to think for a moment more. "Is that Paul? Paul from the mail room? He's such a slut."

Clyde hid his smirk behind the rim of his glass, as he took a drink. "Paul? I thought that was Mark."

"You should really wear your glasses more often. Mark has brown hair and a beard."

"My vision isn't that bad," He groused.

"Sure," It was lighthearted enough that he didn't bristle at the jab.

Clyde glowered at him. Moses snorted again though he didn't quite understand what was funny. The man was drunk.

He shook his head and took another sip of his drink. The vodka settled in his stomach warmly, softening the jagged edges of the world. He was comfortably tipsy, enough to make him sociable but not so much that it rendered him useless. Being drunk wasn't a feeling he liked all that much, didn't like how it loosened his iron fist of control.

"I'll take that bet though." Moses said. "I'll also bet that those two will as well. I think that's Matt and Jane. They work in collections, processing whatever gets brought in."

"Why do we have so many M names?" Clyde muttered, glancing over at the two that he had pointed to. The woman's back was turned to him, but he could clearly see, Matt according to Moses, was leaning into her space. A boyish half drunk grin plastered across his face. He knew Jane, he used to work with her. She was good at her job, blunt, to the point, and ruthless. Someone who would go places inside of Murkoff. Clyde liked her.

"What was that?"

"Sorry, it was nothing. I don't think so."

"No?"

"Jane's married."

"When has that ever stopped anyone?" Moses asked.

"From what I hear she's pretty serious about her feller." He explained, taking another sip of his drink. Grimacing at the taste of it as it washed over his tongue. The other man made a noncommittal sound and shrugged.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Easterman was still engaged in an apparently one sided conversation with his fellow psychiatrists. Nobody but Easterman seemed to be at all relaxed. Clyde knew the man enough to be able to tell when he was about to pull his little disappearing act.

"We'll just have to see how drunk they get." Moses mused. "Matt's pretty easy on the eyes, what does her husband look like?"

Clyde was only half paying attention, more focused on Easterman across the room. The man was about to bolt.

"If you'd excuse me, he's about to make a fool of himself." He cut him off before he could speak again, pushing himself off the wall with a wince. His cane was resting next to him, and he grabbed it, and set his drink down. It would be better if he just never gave Easterman an opportunity. The whole thing made him feel like a glorified babysitter, or some sort of doting house wife. A feeling that set a disgruntled sort of heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. The feeling was not helped by the vodka in his system. If he didn't know any better he would have blamed it solely on the booze.

As he crossed the room he could feel the weight of Moses' eyes on his back.

Easterman was still terrorizing the gaggle of poor psychiatrists. One of the psychiatrists had spotted him making his way over and was making pleading, trapped animal eyes at him. At least he still got to feel useful, despite the bad leg. He nodded once, curtly at them before clapping a hand firmly onto Easterman's shoulder. The man stopped what he was rambling about and turned to glare at him. There wasn't the feverish lit from within quality to his eyes that he'd come to associate with the doctor's highs.

"Ah, Mr. Perry." Easterman said sourly. He'd clearly interrupted him in the middle of a discussion that he'd been the sole enjoyer of. "What can I do for you?"

The other two men that Easterman had been talking were visibly relieved to have his attention directed elsewhere. One of them going so far as to flee for cover. "Can I have a word?" He asked, hand reaching for his elbow to steer him away. Something that the doctor allowed but clearly disliked. Clyde walked them out into the hallway where it was less crowded.

"So what do you need to talk about so urgently?" Easterman asked snidely.

"Nothing, I'm keeping you out of trouble." He replied. The doctor rolled his eyes with an exasperated sound.

"Really? Like some kind of doting housewife?" He snapped.

"I'm not letting you pull your little disappearing act tonight," Clyde answered, ignoring the jab. "You make a fool of yourself at these, I'd rather not have to clean up your mess tonight."

"Oh please," Easterman grumbled with a wave of his hand. "When was the last time I did something that bad?"

"New Years." Clyde said bluntly. The doctor visibly balked at the mention of the night, and Clyde got the satisfaction of watching him squirm in embarrassment at the mere mention of it.

"Of course, what would I ever do without you." He said sourly, crossing his arms. "That was an accident and-"

"Yeah, and you thought you were poisoned." He interrupted with an eye roll.

"Don't mock me, Mr. Perry." Easterman snapped.

"Whatever you say." Easterman glared at him, his fingers twitching on his arm. He could feel the agitation rolling off of him in waves. He wanted to have a hit, of something didn't really matter Clyde supposed, anything would do. It was pathetic. The coil of heat brewing in his stomach cinched tighter. He swallowed and took a step back from the man. Easterman made a face and thought for a moment.

"Let's take a walk," Easterman started, moving down the hall. He didn't look back to see if Clyde was following him. Which he was. "Tell me, do you ever loosen up?"

"Not while I'm at work." He deflected, trailing after him like a lost dog.

"Maybe you should."

"I don't think that's wise." He didn't like what Easterman was implying. Already he could tell were it was going and it left him feeling a queasy sort of anticipation. He had an inkling of what was about to happen, and knew that he should put a stop to it. He didn't, obediently he followed the doctor down the hall.

Easterman led them back to his office, he left the door open. The overhead light had been flipped on for once. The place was surprisingly well kept all things considered. He stepped into the office and watched as he retrieved a bottle of fine gin from the sideboard tucked into the back corner of the room. He'd taken out two glasses, turning he held up the bottle.

"Can I offer you a drink? A good one." He was smirking slightly. His better judgment told him to decline, but the booze already in his system and the pressure in his groin, outweighed it. Clyde stepped further into the room and nodded. The nearly predatory grin that Easterman rewarded with him sent a shiver down his spine. He turned around and began to pour them both drinks, the bottle clinking quietly against the glass as he did so. Once he was finished he pressed a drink into his hand, fingers brushing against Clyde's.

"A toast?"

"What do we have to toast to?" Clyde asked, swirling the clear liquid around in his glass watching as it caught and refracted the light in the room. He glanced up at Easterman.

"A toast to your recent promotion." He offered, holding his own class out.

"I was promoted almost four months ago. It's a little late." Clyde groused. He wouldn't call his reassignment a promotion. The other man rolled his eyes, but he did begrudgingly raise his glass in a toast. The first sip hit his tongue and he fought the urge to wince. Gin was not his drink of choice. The almost citrus taste of juniper mingled with something distinctly herbal that he'd never really been able to place. Something like rosemary maybe. He much preferred a bourbon or a good wine.

"Ever the realest, aren't you?" Easterman remarked. "We'll finish this drink and then go back to the party. I do have appearances to keep up."

"You're that determined to make a fool of yourself?"

"I'm not making a fool of myself." He protested.

"No, you're kissing ass for more funding." Clyde needled. He glared at him over the rim of his glass. He grinned back and Easterman huffed with a wave of his free hand.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand the higher workings of our work here anyway." He retorted.

"You're right I probably wouldn't, but I understand enough." He downed the rest of his drink with a grimace, feeling it settle warmly in his stomach and the world go a tad blurrier at the edges. Easterman savored his drink more than he had.

"Alright, shall we?" He said once he had finished his drink. He set his glass on the corner of the desk and started for the door. Clyde pushed himself up and followed him. He still didn't trust the man to not make a break for it. They returned to the main board room that the party was being held in, the hot press of too many bodies packed into a room had caused some of their colleagues to spill out into the hallway. People milled around the doorways, drinks in hand.

Returning to the party he lost track of Easterman, he knew he was in the room still but the booze in his system was making him hazy. He wanted to make his excuses and leave, but knew that he still needed to keep an eye on the man. Clyde found an open spot near the wall and leaned against it heavily. He was drunker than he'd wanted to get, the world had gone bleary and his head was beginning to swim. Scanning the room he spotted Easterman lounging in the corner idly chatting with one of the chemists. He'd spent enough time in the field to know when his cover had been blown and his target was watching him instead of the other way around. Easterman was undoubtedly watching him and doing a poor job of hiding it.

He frowned at the doctor, the prickly sensation of eyes being on him making him shift uncomfortably. Easterman turned back to his conversation not acknowledging him, and Clyde sighed irritably. His leg twinged slightly as he shifted his weight, he needed to find a place to sit down. Along the back wall of the room he spotted Moses sitting in one of the commandeered chairs from the board room. Feeling Easterman's eyes on him as he crossed the room towards the man.

Moses looked up as he approached, he could tell that the man was drunk but figured he wasn't faring much better. The man had his legs propped up on a chair across from him, his tie was loosened and the top button of his collar undone. As far as office parties went at Murkoff he was being more than modest, almost prudish.

"Can I sit?" He asked, gesturing towards the chair. The man moved his legs and nodded, he sat up more in his own chair trying to put himself to rights. Clyde sat down gratefully with a sigh, propping his bad leg out in front of him.

"The leg bothering you?" Moses asked.

"Not as much as it could be." He answered tiredly. He wanted a cigarette.

"They let that creepy little bastard keep the gun," Moses said, repressing a shudder. "Didn't even tell me they were going to let him when I designed the environments."

He glanced over at the man. Something was off, he felt much drunker than he actually was. Half a class of shitty punch and a finger of gin was not enough to justify how much his head was swimming. He felt too hot and a sort of tingling pressure was pressing down on his shoulders, chest, and throat. Sweat had started to gather on the back of his neck. He wasn't stupid he knew what had happened, and couldn't even say he was surprised. Mostly he was kicking himself for letting it happen. Easterman had drugged him.

Moses was still talking and he was trying his best to appear interested. Something about what a pain it was to have to design on such a small budget. He grunted in response, hoping that Scarfiotti was drunk enough to either not notice or not care. Clyde dragged a hand over his face, trying to ground himself.

"Oh and Paul and Helen left together, tangled up with each other." Moses said absentmindedly.

"Helen?" He asked. The name was familiar but he couldn't place it.

"Easterman's secretary."

"Oh, right. I knew that." Clyde mumbled, trying to act like the room wasn't spinning and far too warm.

"I mean he gets a new one every couple of months." He laughed. Across the room he could see that Easterman was making his way over to them.

"Better watch it, he's headed this way." Clyde warned, and the other man groaned exasperatedly. Easterman stalked through the crowd and they both watched him approach. Moses with a half drunken dread and Clyde with a mix of wired anticipation and disgust.

"Evening gentlemen." Moses immediately wrinkled his nose and all but physically recoiled from the man. "Enjoying yourself Mr. Scarfiotti?"

"I was." He grumbled drawing into himself in the doctor's presence.

"Hm, I hate to break up your conversation but I need to have a word with Mr. Perry." Easterman said, waving off the architect. The room was spinning and everything felt pressed too close and too hot. He was sweating and he had started to feel queasy. He was keeping himself together with a white knuckled grip. Whatever Easterman wanted from him it wouldn't be good, but at least then he could fall apart in semi-privacy.

"Not much of a conservation I'm afraid." Moses huffed.

"Mr. Perry, if you'd please," Easterman all but purred, ignoring the other man and holding out a hand to help him up. Reluctantly he took the offered hand, even with Easterman's help he was unsteady on his feet. Standing made the room swirl and tilt in a nauseating way that almost made him drop back down into his chair again. He managed to pull himself together enough to allow the other man to guide him out of the room. Easterman let a hand rest on the small of his back, the pressure there was insistent and impossible to ignore. The touch combined with them being in such a public space made him squirm.

"What did you-" He started, as they stepped into the hallway.

"People are still around, Clyde." Easterman shushed him. He grumbled but kept his mouth shut, and kept stumbling forward trying to do anything to get keep his mind off the pressing queasy, warmth of the high. It was too much, he needed a sit down and a glass of water, his throat was scratchy and dry.

He led him back to his office and deposited him on the futon pushed against the wall. Clyde closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Whatever Easterman had given him was affecting him in other ways. The half interested heat that had been building in his gut all night had grown into something much more pressing. Across the room he could hear Easterman shutting the door.

"What did you give me?" Clyde tried again, still not opening his eyes.

"I gave you gin."

"Bullshit, this isn't what being drunk feels like." He snapped, cracking his good eye enough to watch Easterman cross the room with a shit eating grin on his face. "This isn't funny. What did you give me?"

"How do you feel?" Easterman asked instead of answering his question.

"I'm not doing this with you. What did you give me?" He demanded, despite the fact that the drugs were making his words slur. Everything felt slow and far away, like he was wrapped in a thick wool blanket.

"Tell me how you feel, and I'll tell you what I gave you." He murmured, and the couch dipped next to him as he sat down. An embarrassing sound escaped him when the other man slid a hand across his thigh. "Talk me through your symptoms, I find it helps patients."

"I'm your patient now?" Clyde asked, trying to squirm away from the other man. It felt like he was floating and every sensation had him squirming and gasping.

"Yes, now tell me. I can't help you if you don't tell me." He pressed, moving his hand just a fraction of an inch higher on his thigh. Clyde bit back a gasp.

"Help? Like this isn't your fault, you bastard." He laughed bitterly, letting his eyes close again. "It feels like something is pressing down on me, and sort of… tingly I guess. I feel warm, too warm. My head is swimming and my mouth is dry. I feel out of control and useless." He finished.

"Good, and what about this?" He finally cupped him through his trousers, and he groaned. "You really shouldn't keep things from your doctor." He purred, grinding his palm against him and Clyde let out a breathy sound.

"Just shut up and tell me what you drugged me with." He whinged, feeling the fight start to ebb out of him. The high was starting to deepen, the colors of the world going too bright and that almost tingling was getting harder to ignore. Seemingly against his will he'd started rocking his hips forward into his hand.

"Alright, since you've been good." Easterman mused. "It's something that we've made in house, it's a by-product of one of the drugs used to put reagents under. It's effects are similar to that of cannabis, with a few other variations. Increased libido being one of them." His thumb circled the tip of his cock through his pants, and Clyde bit his lip in an attempt to stifle the noise he made.

"Fucking bastard," He panted, the sensation was too much already and he was only palming him through his trousers. His other hand wound it's way around his shoulder, pulling him closer to him. Clyde halfheartedly tried to push him away. Protesting only seemed to egg Easterman on. He ground the palm of his hand down against his clothed cock, and with his other hand started to loosen his tie. Easterman chuckled and pressed closer to him the more he tried to get away.

The press of the man's body against him was suffocating; he felt trapped between his need to get away and the too hot throb of want in his center. He was trying not to make a fool of himself, which he supposed it was already too late for that. Cool lips brushed against the shell of his ear, making him shiver. Easterman moved to mouthing along the line of his jaw and down towards his neck. The drugs in his system rendered the sensation pins and needles against his skin; pressure giving way to a guilty stolen sort of pleasure.

The fight was slowly draining out of him and he could feel himself melting into Easterman. Still kissing his neck, he worked open the top few buttons on his shirt one handed. He let him nudge his thighs apart and straddle his good leg, thigh grinding against his hard on. Clyde gasped, hands fumbling for Easterman's waist. He could feel that the other man was hard as well, grinding against his thigh.

He had to stop kissing his neck to rearrange them, and now he leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. He made a surprised sound and it gave Easterman the opportunity to force his tongue into his mouth. Teeth nipped at his bottom lip making him whine. Clyde didn't kiss back, his hands clumsily trying to push him off. Trying to from some sort of protest that was worth while.

"Shhh, just enjoy it. Just lie back and let me take care of you." Easterman soothed, reaching up to cup his face forcing him to look him in the eye.

"You're taking care of me, huh?" He asked skeptically, but he did pull him further into his lap making them both groan. Rocking his hips upwards against his thigh, he let his eyes close and tried to just enjoy the sensation.

"Yes, I-" Easterman started, immediately putting a damper on his high, but not on the fever pitch of arousal that was building in the both of them.

"Shut up. Jesus Christ just shut up." Clyde mumbled against his neck. Easterman laughed and ground his thigh against his cock and delighted in the reaction it earned him. Although he wasn't much better off himself, the insistent rocking of his hips against his thigh was not lost to him even as out of it as he was. When Easterman opened his mouth to reply, he pushed himself up and silenced him with a messy kiss. The doctor undid the rest of his shirt, but didn't reach for his belt, much to his frustration.

Hands slid down to his waist squeezing appreciatively. Clyde grunted and tried to squirm away from his hands; not because the touch was all that unwelcome, but because they were fucking freezing. Icy hands worked their way along his sides, poking and prodding until he made him squeal. He pulled him further into his lap and moaned into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip making Easterman gasp into his mouth. Easterman braced himself against his chest, frigid hand searing against his skin. With the added leverage he used it to grind against him better.

Despite his best efforts a moan escaped him and his hips canted upwards against his thigh. He dug his nails into his hips and he panted through his teeth, already he could feel himself getting closer to toppling over the edge. It was frankly embarrassing. Like he was some fumbling teenager getting lucky for the first time. He bit his lip and felt his spine arch and his hips stuttered forward, an pathetic sound working its way from his throat.

"Already there, Mr. Perry? My goodness you're easy." Easterman mocked, spreading his fingers across his neck and trailing them up to his jaw.

"Shut up," He growled, chest heaving. Just a little more and he'd be there, and it would be over. He could push Easterman off of him and stumble into his own bed to sleep off the high. Even with the drugs in his system and the maddening ache of his cock, Easterman talking was taking him out of it. He closed his eyes and let himself grind shamelessly against his thigh, moaning and panting.

"God, you're so pathetic. I mean you're practically drooling, and I haven't even touched you properly." He laughed. Maybe Easterman's talkativeness wasn't the problem, it might have just been the words he was saying. The words made his cock twitch and he whimpered outright. He wasn't going to last much longer.

"Fuck off," It came out as a barely there whine, and Easterman chuckled. And if that didn't get him harder. A hand cupped his face and tilted his head upwards; so that when he opened his eyes all he could see was Easterman looming over him, his head haloed by the too bright sickly yellow ceiling light. The fingers against his jaw tapped along it, until they were pressed against his lips.

"Open."

He swallowed thickly, his mouth was bone dry and he was reeling. It felt like the weight of the other man was crushing him back into the futon.

"Don't make me ask again."

Somewhere in the back of his foggy mind shame tried to worm its way into his head. He felt like he was about to come, and paying attention to anything else was proving difficult. Obediently he opened his mouth and let the doctor push his middle and ring fingers into it. He laved his tongue over his fingers, the drugs making his spit thick and stringy. The taste of Easterman's cool skin was salty and slightly bitter. He forced his fingers down his throat until he gagged and spluttered. He couldn't see his face, just the light behind him bleeding at the edges. With his fingers shoved into his mouth and staring up at Easterman like he was something angelic, he finally shook apart moaning wantonly. Hips bucking up against him as he made a mess of himself.

He swallowed around the digits in his mouth, trying to steady his breathing through his nose. Easterman bent and kissed his cheek lovingly; it made his stomach twist in shame and disgust but he couldn't squirm away. Mercifully he pulled his fingers from his mouth and obscene amount of saliva connected his lips to his fingers. Clyde slumped back against the couch, panting and hands trembling as he fumbled to push him off. He gasped, mumbling and whinging, he wasn't getting any less hard. Easterman chuckled at his distress, pressing his thigh against his over sensitive cock. He cried out trying to push him off of his lap with a renewed vigor.

"Just now noticing that, are you?" Easterman laughed, trailing his spit slicked fingers down his chest to stomach. With a gasp he shivered at the cool feeling of the dampness forming a line down his body.

"You bastard," He complained giving one last weak shove. "You better fuck me proper."

"Oh, I promise I'll give you what you need." Easterman said low and close to his ear. He kept grinding his thigh against him and slid his hands down to his hips. Squeezing the soft skin there making him writhe at the touch.

Clyde snorted and rocked his hips up against his thigh anyway with a breathy sound. He dug his nails into his thighs and kept grinding against him, letting his head fall back against the couch. The high was numbing the guilty embarrassment that was slowly growing in his chest, it let his hips roll more freely and he wasn't bothering with trying to hide to sounds he was able to wring out of him.

"Shouldn't be too hard. You've already made a mess of yourself for me." He finally reached for his belt, unbuckling it deftly and slipped a hand beneath his waistband. Still only palming him over his boxers. Clyde groaned, the sensation through the thin, damp cloth of his boxers was incredibility intense compared to just rutting through his trousers.

"You just— Oh Christ! You just never shut up, do you?" Clyde growled through his teeth. He was already on the edge. It was embarrassing, enough that he let go of his hips to cover his face.

"Mind your manners, Mr. Perry." Clyde rolled his eyes and ignored the comment, just bucking his hips against his hand. Much to his frustration he pulled his hand away and tutted patronizingly as he protested. And Clyde's face flushed with shame at his begging.

Briskly he tugged his pants down exposing his cock to the cold, stale air of the office, he sucked in a breath. His cock was flushed a lurid red and drooling pre-cum. If he'd been in his right mind he would have felt some sort of embarrassment at how hard he was for Easterman. Already his hips canted upwards, begging to be touched even as he mumbled flustered protests. All of which were ignored, taking his dick into his palm and sliding all the way down to the base. The sound that the action ripped from his throat made Easterman blush. He wished that he'd been coherent enough to gloat instead of just lie there and whimper pitifully.

When he felt the brush of his lips against the head of his dick he all but sobbed. Easterman sank to his knees between his thighs spreading his fingers along the inside of his thighs. His tongue flicked at the tip coquettishly, tasting the bitter salt of his pre-cum almost savoring it.

Easterman was only teasing, leaving kisses down the sides of his dick. Never quite where he needed them to be. God, what he wouldn't give for Easterman to take him into his mouth. With his eyes closed he felt himself pressed down against the futon, like all of his joints had turned to honey. He whinged squirming away from Easterman's ministrations.

Keeping his eyes closed for too long led to a nauseating lurching feeling. A dislocation of space and time, like he was trapped in free fall and he jerked upwards in half a panic. Eyes snapping open. It fucked with his head something fierce. Something that Easterman was finding extremely amusing.

"Something wrong?" He asked smugly.

"Nothing that isn't your fault." Came the strained reply.

Easterman laughed and bent his head again, this time taking just the tip of his cock into his mouth. Enough to have him moaning and arching off the couch, but not what he really needed. Knowing Easterman he'd never give him what he wanted, would just keep him there begging forever. Or go until he was satisfied and leave Clyde to jerk himself off into a lack luster orgasm. Because the bastard got off on it, something about power and how helpless and needy Clyde got. He didn't want to think about it for too long. Which just served to burrow the thought deeper into his head. How pathetic he must look, and what a mess he had already made of himself. And was about to again. Humiliation at the mere thought of letting Easterman of all people reduce him to this, of not being smart enough to see it coming. A jittery sort of mingled mortification and fascination at the thought of being walked in on that only served to get him even more worked up.

Luckily he was saved from his run away train of thought by the other man slowly taking more of him into the slick, wet heat of his mouth. His tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock, as he looked up at him through lidded eyes. Clyde couldn't hold his stare and looked away. He slid down a fraction of an inch more, and his hips bucked up into his mouth.

The doctor gagged, tears glistened unshed in his eyes, but he didn't pull away. Hands relocated themselves to hold Clyde's hips in place, and he kept on with methodically taking him into his mouth. Stopping only when his nose was pressed flush against the thicket of dark hair at the base of his dick. Both of them were panting. Clyde already so overstimulated that he was barely able to stop himself from cumming then and there.

Easterman swallowed around him once, getting his bearings, taking shallow breaths through his nose as best he could. His tongue lapped at his cock, and with each flick of it he pulled back until he was lovingly lavishing at only the head of his cock. It was all he could but whimper and watch helplessly. Quicker this time he sank down the base, wringing another pathetic sound from Clyde, just to repeat the process again.

He only lasted halfway through the second time.

"Oh fuck-!" It was the only warning he was able to give; before he was spilling, for the second time, down Easterman's throat.

Clyde watched half delirious as the man drank his spend down eagerly. Like he was savoring it. Like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Clyde was on fire, the rush of need that throbbed through his cock was nigh unbearable. It was getting worse. He shuddered through the after shocks moaning desperately. Between his thighs Easterman was still leaving featherlight kisses and licks, only enough to tease.

He was almost too far gone to notice the door handle turning.

Almost.

It sobered him up quicker than a slap to the face. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, futility scrabbling to cover himself as the handle turned. Easterman grunted when he tried to push him off, completely oblivious to Clyde's distress and the door.

"Hendrick, the door!" He hissed, finally working a knee into a position where he could push the other man off of him. "You didn't lock the fucking door?!" He accused, incredulous.

"It might have slipped my mind," Easterman answered mildly, voice rough with use. Clyde could've killed him.

But by that point it was already was too late. Moses Scarfiotti was already standing in the threshold, mouth slightly agape and face flushed pink. Wether it was from the booze in his system or the sight before him, he couldn't say. He tried to draw his legs up to hide his drooling cock, feeling his own face burn with mortification. Clyde looked away, unable to meet his gaze. The room was spinning and the combination of fear and panic set a queasy sick feeling in his gut. Infuriatingly Easterman didn't even seem that bothered by the architect's presence.

"Ah, Moses. Now's a bit of a bad time." Easterman said, like they'd been interrupted during a board meeting. Clyde was too busy trying to sink into the couch in shame to say anything. His face almost as red as his aching cock.

"I can see that." He said bluntly. Still leaning heavily against the doorframe, he was drunker than the last time Clyde had seen him. Drunk enough that he probably, please god let it be probably, wouldn't remember this. He risked a glance up to his face again, could see the way his eyes were hungrily taking him in. A little shift of the hips, a hard swallow, and a envious glint at the sight of Easterman between his thighs. Scarfiotti was hard as a rock underneath his stiff slacks.

"Do you want him?" Easterman asked, taking his dick into his hand making him shudder pathetically. Scarfiotti got even redder in the face, and Clyde could see his knuckles blanching white against the wooden frame of the door. "I don't mind sharing."

"No- I. I better get going." Moses stammered, trying to extract himself from the room.

"Nonsense!" He exclaimed, getting to his feet. He crossed the room and tugged the other man into the room by his tie. Moses made a surprised sound and stumbled after him. Roughly he shoved him to his knees between Clyde's thighs.

Moses looked like he was about to cry and Clyde couldn't say that he blamed him. He wasn't exactly comfortable with the situation at hand either.

"Well are you just going to stare at it?" Clyde groused trying to hide his discomfort. The ache of his cock was overriding nearly every rational thought. If he could just get some relief, something to soothe the maddening pulse of need in his center, he didn't care where it came from.

Their eyes finally met, Scarfiotti's laced with need. He didn't like thinking about how his must look. Glassy, half closed, pupils blown wide, and lit with that heady feverish half light that they'd both come to associate with Easterman. Keeping his eyes on his face, he tugged his trousers down further so that he had access to his bare thighs. He bent pressing his lips against the heated skin of Clyde's thigh, sucking a bruise there. Teeth grazing along his sensitive skin as he worked his way closer to his crotch. Clyde sighed and made a quiet sound, letting his legs spread just a bit more to give him more room.

Behind them Easterman was leaning against his desk, watching them eagerly, a shit eating grin spread across his face. Like he was observing a particularly fascinating experiment. Vaguely the thought that this was almost certainly what Easterman wanted ghosted through his muddled mind. The pervert might even start taking notes. Clyde grunted and his back bowed slightly when the man between his thighs nipped at sensitive spot. He slipped a hand into Moses' thick dark hair tugging at it as he nipped and kissed his way along his thighs.

Moses grabbed his hips, digging his nails in deliciously, and pulled him closer to the edge of the futon. He kissed his way up from his knee towards his cock. Finally he pulled back enough to lick a long line up from the base of his dick to the tip of it. Clyde groaned hips canting up into the touch. He kept his eyes on Easterman, while still keeping a hand fisted in Moses' hair.

He made an embarrassing sound as the man's plush lips closed around the head of his cock. "Just like that, Moses. He's sensitive, you'll find that it really doesn't take much." Easterman called from his perch on his desk. He'd produced a cigarette from somewhere and had lit it, filling the room with the rich acrid scent of tobacco. Moses shuddered at Easterman's words and doubled his efforts. It made his breath hitch and he clenched his fist in his hair making him moan around the cock in his mouth.

The man's hands groped at his ass as he swallowed him down to the base. Clyde's hips bucked upwards into his mouth ignoring his sputtering. The whole time he kept his eyes on Easterman lazily smoking while he watched hawkishly from the edge of the desk.

"You bastard, can't even finish what you start." Clyde taunted him.

"Oh, all in good time Clyde, all in good time," He purred, waving his words away. "Why don't you tell Moses what a good job he's doing." Clyde only grunted in response, more focused on the warm wet, slide and suck of Moses' mouth around him. It didn't take much longer for Moses to work him up to the edge. He used his grip on his hair to hold him in place while he fucked into his mouth, still keeping his eyes trained on Easterman. A few more thrusts had him spilling messily into Moses' mouth and across his face as he reared back with a surprised grunt.

The whole time he kept his gaze level with Easterman's. Two could play at his little watching game. He took in the way the doctor stopped with his cigarette half way to his lips and how he shifted his hips and pressed his thighs together, mouth slightly agape.

He let go of Moses' hair and let him slump against his thigh heavily. As he ran his fingers through the man's hair and felt him all but melt at the touch, he raised an eyebrow at Easterman. Who visibly flushed and took another drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out. Between his thighs Moses made a pathetic sound at his nails scratching against his scalp. He pulled his gaze away from Easterman to haul Moses up by the hair to kiss him sloppily. Licking his own cum off of his face.

Moses made a surprised squeak and after a moment of struggle relaxed into the kiss moaning quietly. And Clyde thought he'd been easy. He glanced over at Easterman, he didn't think he'd ever seen him look so jealous. It was almost comical. Knowing that it would get a rise out of him, he grabbed Moses' ass and pulled him into his lap. Hands deftly undoing his belt and slipping below his waistband, earning himself a moan. Behind them Easterman was very clearly having second thoughts about sharing, but he didn't move to interrupt.

Clyde kicked out of his trousers and started to undress the man in his lap. Roughly he undid Moses' shirt, revealing pale skin and a darkly haired chest, and pushed the waistband of his pants down. Clumsily the man tried to help, as drunk as he was. Once he'd gotten him out of his clothes he started to kiss along his neck, and work his way down towards his chest. With one hand he took both of their leaking cocks and slowly began to jerk them off. Moses tried to stifle a breathy sound.

The whole time he kept his eyes trained on Easterman, watching him watch them. The look on his face stuck somewhere between a glare and awe. Clyde bit down on his bare shoulder, making him cry out and his hips bucked into his hand.

"Fuck, Clyde!" Moses gasped, and dug his nails into his back.

"You're pathetic," He groaned, it was huffed against Moses' neck but it was directed at Easterman. Moses grunted, and let his head drop to his shoulder. He wasn't much better off than the other man, his hips were working just as franticly against him. He used his free hand to reach around and grab his ass. Using the leverage it gave him to pull closer, changing the angle of their rutting made them both moan.

Easterman pushed himself off of the desk and stalked across the room until he was hovering over them like a thunderhead. He reached down and tipped his chin up so that he had to look at him. Easterman grinned cruelly and bent to kiss him. Almost immediately he felt teeth dig into his bottom lip. It was a claiming kiss. Scarfiotti might've been grinding against him like a dog in heat, but he belonged to Easterman. A thought that made him burn with shame.

He moaned into the kiss and his hips jerked upwards making the man on his lap whine pathetically. When Easterman pulled away a line of saliva was strung between their lips obscenely. His hips twitched and he stifled an embarrassing sound. He was close to the edge again, hand working feverishly on both of their cocks.

"Come on, Clyde I can tell you want it." Easterman cooed tauntingly, cupping the side of his face. Thumb stroking against his cheek patronizingly.

"Just shut up." He grunted. His back bowed and his hips stuttered forward as he shook apart for the fourth time. The whole time he could feel Easterman's eyes on him, the hand against his cheek felt like a brand.

"I told you he was easy," Easterman said to Moses who only groaned in response. He slumped against him panting and trying to hide the little cut off whimpers he was making. Scarfiotti moaned and bucked his hips up against his hand chasing his own finish.

Easterman drank in the sight hungrily letting his hand slip from it's spot, turning his attention to Moses. Almost like scratching a favored dog behind the ears, he ran a hand through his hair. Watching the man shudder and whine at the touch, he dragged his nails down his back and grinned at the sound it drew out of Moses. Clyde hid his face in his neck and started kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there.

Caught between Easterman and Clyde, he cried out and came with a strangled sound. He kept working his hand over to their cocks, even as Moses slumped against him and quietly tried to protest. Unlike Clyde, he wasn't rearing to go again and he tried to extract himself from his lap. Easterman pushed him back down again, and Moses whimpered hips still driving forward even though he was acting like it was torture. His nails bit into his back making Clyde groan quietly, and his own hips bucked up against Scarfiotti's.

"What's the matter, Moses?" He asked, nipping along the line of his shoulder. Moses didn't respond only made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. "Can't you give me one more?"

Scarfiotti mumbled something against his shoulder. Clyde might've been high but he didn't think he'd ever seen the man so out of it. He shifted his hips and his hand and that was all it took Moses shuddered and gasped and came apart in his lap for the second time. This time he let Scarfiotti up on rubbery legs. Clumsily he got up and landed heavily on the couch chest heaving. Easterman ran his fingers through his hair again, and Clyde watched him wince in pleasure.

"How did you like him, Moses?" Easterman asked, still playing with his hair. He was staring down Clyde as he asked it.

"Good, I liked it." Scarfiotti eventuality choked out, still trying to catch his breath. He was peering at him with half lidded eyes.

"There's a good pet," Easterman purred, and then bent to kiss him sloppily.

Clyde let himself relax against the futon, lazily starting to jack himself off as he watched the others' kiss turn to groping and grinding. Easterman didn't let it go very far before he turned his attention back to Clyde.

"Turn over for me." He ordered, finally undoing his shirt and pants. Clyde raised an eyebrow, but did as he was asked. He felt him settle against him, his cock flushed and leaking pressed between Clyde's thighs. Clyde was practically shaking with anticipation. He felt warm and a little woozy, brain still half melted by need. He grabbed him by his hips and hands slid up and down his thighs and sides. They were still freezing cold. He shivered and gasped when he nudged his thighs apart. Clyde moaned breathlessly when he felt the head of his dick pressing against his hole.

From his spot on the couch he met Scarfiotti's eyes, half closed and fucked out, but still watching hungrily. He whimpered hands fisting in the futon cushion, as Easterman pushed into him. Somewhere in the back of his foggy mind he was aware of how humiliating the whole ordeal really was. But he couldn't really bring himself to care. Behind him Easterman groaned quietly as he buried himself all the way to the hilt in Clyde's ass.

Clyde got the feeling that he'd been waiting for this for a long time. His hands petted his sides, one slipping down to poke and prod at his bad leg. A fascination that Clyde couldn't and did not want to understand. To him the scar was ugly, painful, a reminder of his failure. He grunted and tried to swat the hand away.

"Just get on with it, you've kept me waiting long enough Hendrick." He groused. Easterman chuckled at that, one large bony hand still tracing the length of it as he rolled his hips forward. In another life he would have made a fine pianist.

"I always expect you to have more patience, considering your field assignments." Easterman said. Clyde rolled his eyes and pushed back against him grinding his ass against his hips with a quiet groan. "Needy too." He grabbed his hips and held him in place much to his frustration.

"It's your own damn fault," He snapped.

"Should I add mouthy to the list as well?"

"You're keeping a list now?" Clyde asked half incredulous.

"Have been since we met, Mr. Perry." He answered primly, like his cock wasn't buried in his ass.

"Of course you have been. You fucking freak."

Moses snickered at that from his post observing. It earned him a dirty look from Easterman, and Clyde was too busy trying to get the man to move inside him to pay all that much attention. Easterman rolled his hips upward slowly, drawing it out just to tease him. He huffed and panted, the sensation was just enough to get him going but never all the way there. From his position on his knees on the couch, Clyde let his elbows give out, all of his joints gone slow and loopy. His head pillowed by his folded arms, rocking back into Easterman with every thrust.

He let himself be arranged how Easterman wanted him, pulling his ass into the air so that the angle of his thrusting had them both groaning. In front of him Moses was watching them intently, eyes cataloguing every slight movement. Scarfiotti had found his interest, and was feverishly working his cock with one hand as he watched.

"Do you want him again, Moses? He'll let you, I'm sure of it." Easterman reached forward and pulled his head back by the hair. In that position it gave Moses the view of his drooling dick and trembling thighs, as Easterman fucked him.

Moses didn't waste much time, he pushed himself up and settled himself with legs flung loosely around his hips. Before Clyde could even protest or voice any concerns, Moses was kissing him. One hand wrapping around his cock, spreading the precum down the length of it, Moses guided it into his hole. Both of them wincing, Moses at the stretch and burn of taking too much too soon. Clyde because he was caught between Easterman pressing against his prostate, and the tight heat of the man underneath him.

"Oh fuck! Moses you're so damned tight." Clyde panted. Behind him Easterman chuckled.

"You know never in a million years would I have bet on you two." Moses laughed breathlessly. Their earlier betting game was the last thing on Clyde's mind at the moment.

"Oh, shut up. It's- oh! It's not like that." He eventually managed to choke out through gritted teeth.

"Sure it isn't," Easterman chimed in. It made Scarfiotti snort, he made sure to kiss Clyde again before he could say anything.

Nails bit into his thighs and Easterman changed the angle slightly, Clyde whimpered outright as it forced him deeper into Moses. Who groaned and writhed, dragging his teeth along his shoulder and sucking a bruise at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. There was nowhere to retreat to. There was nothing he could do but whimper and gasp.

Easterman leaned forward, pressing him down further into Moses making them both moan. Underneath him Moses arched and made an embarrassing sound, his cock grinding against the slight paunch of his stomach. He felt trapped and out of control, Easterman setting the pace and Scarfiotti keeping him there.

Soon it was all he could do was hide his face in the crook of Moses' neck and fall apart. Besides Easterman, they were all over sensitive and in Clyde's case so worked up that it hurt. He'd already come four times and couldn't imagine a fifth one. He was already close to tears, just from the pure overwhelm of sensation alone. When he felt Easterman's teeth bite into his shoulder he actually sobbed.

Scarfiotti had thrown an arm around his neck, effectively collaring him. The man underneath him licked into his mouth and nipped at his bottom lip. Clyde grabbed his hips and pulled his ass flush to his hips making him cry out. Moses rolled his hips against him in tandem with Easterman, so that he couldn't catch his breath at all.

The first strike made him jolt forward with a yelp, and Moses moaned brokenly at the sudden movement. The warm pins and needles feeling that the slap left in it's wake had him going weak at the knees. Another one landed on the other side, Clyde whinged pathetically. Pleading for more.

"There we are, that's it." Easterman mumbled against his neck, somewhat banally like he wasn't really talking to him. More of muttering to himself as he chased his own finish. Mercifully he did reward Clyde with another stinging blow that him all but keening. "Beautiful." He remarked, smoothing a hand over the angry red welts that had been left in the blow's wake. It sent a thrill up Clyde's spine and he rocked back into the touch.

"Hendrick- Hendrick please." He whined pleadingly. He could feel the doctor's nails biting into the raised welt where he had hit him. Clyde wasn't going to last much longer. If it weren't for the molten pulse of need at his center his skin would be crawling. The touch too much and the hot press of bodies from either side just kept washing over him like a wave.

"I told you I'd take care of you," Easterman murmured low and close to his ear. Quiet enough that Moses couldn't hear him. Clyde scoffed, barely listening. Hell he was barely able to form an intelligent thought in his current state.

The next blow had his hips stuttering forward and whimpering. Underneath him Moses ground against him panting and whining. He was obviously was close, not much better off than Clyde, half thought out pleas caught in his throat. What a picture Scarfiotti was in that moment, dark curls falling into his face and stuck sweat soaked to his forehead, eyes glazed and flushed down to his chest. Clyde took pity on him. He bent and swallowed Moses' whines in a kiss, one hand wrapping around his cock and began to jerk him off.

Moses came apart at the seams with a wanton moan, nails scratching down his back. Clyde fucked him through it, not far behind him, while Easterman watched hungrily. The way Scarfiotti's hole clenched down on his cock dragged him over the edge after him. Easterman took it in greedily, holding him in place while finished for the fifth time.

The relief that ripped through him felt like wildfire, the world spinning and his whole body shivering. Easterman let them both pant and catch their breath before he started fucking him again. He sobbed, every touch and sensation heightened almost to the point of pain. Moses took his opportunity to pull away, scrabbling back against the couch until he could sit up. Clyde groaned as his finally softening cock slipped out of him.

Clyde was too woozy and fucked out to do anything but moan and let Easterman have his way. Glassy-eyed he looked up at Scarfiotti from where his head had dropped against the couch. He hit him one more time and he whinged and pressed back into him. The pain strobing up his spine wonderfully.

Fortunately for him there was a reason Easterman liked to watch; the man had no stamina. Already his pace was lagging and he was panting through clenched teeth. When he heard him start to make bitten off gasps he knew he was close. Easterman grabbed him by his hips and ground into his ass, spilling inside him hotly. Clyde moaned and panted, a whole body tremor building in his shoulders and slowly rolling down through the rest of his body.

Easterman pulled out finally, and let him collapse in a heap on the couch. Almost condescendingly he patted Clyde's shoulder as he extracted himself. Finally Clyde let himself fall completely apart letting his eyes close, head swimming and utterly exhausted. Dimly he felt fingers carding through his hair, and thought they must belong to Moses. Easterman was not the touchy feely type after and neither was Clyde under normal circumstances. But currently he was happy to lay there and be petted.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Easterman asked. The sound of a lighter flicking open could be heard, followed by the faint crackle of a cigarette lighting.

There was a long pause and the hand in his hair withdrew. "Yeah, yeah I did." Moses answered a bit unsteadily.

"It looked like it. Care for a smoke?"

"Sure." Shoes shuffled across the the floor and the lighter sounded again, he could hear Moses take a long drag off of it. Clyde was already drifting off, too tired to care about the state he was in. Letting the warm floating feeling from the combined high of whatever Easterman had given him and orgasm wash over him. Letting it pull him under into an undertow of oblivion.

In the morning Clyde woke up with a splitting headache and one killer of a hangover. At some point during the night he'd either been helped back to his own bed, or had managed to stumble his way there. Thankfully he was alone in that bed. Someone had left a half full glass of water on the nightstand. Still he was sore all over, and he squinted at the weak morning light streaming through the venetian blinds. He had half a mind to roll back over and go back to sleep.

Shakily pushing himself up in the bed he could see that, uncharacteristically, his clothes lay in a rumpled heap on the floor at the foot of the bed. He was still wearing his boxers, but his shirt was sitting at the top of the heap. Clyde dragged his hand over his face with a groan, wiping sweat away. He felt sick to his stomach. His hands were shaking and it felt like all the moisture had been sucked out of his mouth. He reached for the glass of water and the room spun at the sudden movement.

Aspirin. He needed an aspirin.

There were some on the beside drawer, and he clumsily pawed it open and found the little bottle. The water, though it was only room temperature, was blessedly cool to his feverish body. He'd call in sick. The place wouldn't fall apart without him, besides the whole ordeal was Easterman's fault anyway. He set the glass on the nightstand, and laid back down. Eyes squeezed shut against the light, trying to ignore the pounding of his head. Flashes of the night before were slowly coming back to him and Clyde fought the urge to give a whole body shudder of revulsion.

He didn't think he'd be able to look Scarfiotti in the eye anytime soon.