Fic: Work is a Four Letter Word (1/1)
Title: Work is a Four Letter Word
Characters: Matt Devlin, Alesha Phillips, James Steel
Rating: NC-17. Smutty smutty smut.
Spoilers: No plot = no spoiling.
Disclaimer: Show and characters belong to Dick Wolf, and I suppose, ITV. The bench should be mine.
Summary: The pleasure of four letter words.
A/N: This story began as a drabble for bamberriffic, who requested Matt/James. I just couldn’t manage to keep Alesha out, and it’s clearly exceeded drabble length. I may write a proper one later, but for now, my dear, what you see…
Thanks to radiantbaby and persiflage_1 for beta reading.
###
A gasp. “No time.”
A grunt. “Don’t care.”
A whimper. “But the clock-“
A groan. “Don’t care.”
A whisper. “She’ll catch us.”
A chuckle. “Let her.”
Matt pulls his head from the spot on James’s neck that he finds so very appealing and pushes him down onto the wide leather bench before straddling his thighs and biting him once more. James groans and tugs Matt’s shirt from his trousers, sliding his hands up his back to scratch at the smooth skin.
James rasps into his ear. “I need-“
This is what Matt wants to hear. Between them it’s always about some four letter word. Lust. Want. Play. Love.
But Need? Well, need is as raw as it gets. Matt likes raw.
He unbuckles, unbuttons, and unzips, exposing James’s skin swiftly so that his tongue and teeth can attack that bit of flesh just at the hipbone while he strokes his cock with his hand. He knows this isn’t what James wants-no, correct that, needs-but that’s how this little game goes; no matter what four letter word is chosen, each satisfies it in their own way.
James’s hand caresses Matt’s hair softly at first, then with rough urgency as he grows increasingly desperate to be consumed. Matt looks up at the blue eyes challenging him, piercing him, begging him for release and grins, planting a leisurely trail of kisses on his inner thighs, licking the skin of his groin, his fingers lightly holding his cock as he blooms a tiny rose garden across his pelvis.
James whimpers. Matt’s won this round.
It’s a relief when Matt finally takes him in his mouth, first licking the length of him, then engulfing him entirely in one swift motion. He needs to draw this out, he needs to let it go, he needs-him. Her. Them.
Matt feels James surrender, the hips below him bucking, the hands at his head stroking and then clenching his hair. He quickens the pace and intensity of his ministrations, rubbing a finger just around the small ring only he can wear, pressing his finger just through the opening as James gasps and a stern voice behind Matt says, “I told you to wait for me.”
James locks eyes with a crossly bemused Alesha, who takes pity on him and nods, giving him the permission he needs to succumb to Matt’s defiantly continued attentions. His smile apologizes over his pleasure before he growls and groans his release. Matt’s head is roughly jerked from his cock by Alesha’s hand. Denial of the fruit of his labor: this is Matt’s punishment.
When James’s orgasm subsides, Alesha strokes the liquid on his belly and shoves her finger into Matt’s half-opened mouth. He suckles her with a wicked smile. She leans forward and kisses him sweetly, replacing her finger with her tongue for the briefest of moments before licking her way to whisper in his ear.
“Clean it up. Don’t get a drop on the leather.”
Matt takes his time, his tongue slowly traversing the landscape of James’s cock and pelvis, then up toward and beyond his navel. He isn’t remotely concerned with finishing quickly; Alesha hasn’t specified a timeframe for this task. Her mistake. She usually made him do this with greater speed, and while he does like to please her, he’s always looking for a moment to indulge in a bit of play. Having this normally staid prosecutor writhing beneath his tongue and teeth, aching for the feel of his hands on his skin, for the thrust of his cock inside him? Play doesn’t get much better than that. Besides; if she’s about to do what he suspects she might, a very sweet treasure awaits his completion of this task, and he intends to take his time getting there. She isn’t above punishment, after all.
James’s attentions are divided between Matt’s languid licking and Alesha’s swift, almost dispassionate disrobing. This is his punishment: he loves undressing her slowly, peeling away the soft, then tailored layers to find out what she’d adorned herself in that morning. He’d bought her a fruit basket of silks and laces and takes great delight in sampling her through the fabrics as she moans beneath his mouth. She feeds his hunger with perfect fairness, always fulfilling him just enough, always leaving him wanting that much more. When she lets him strip her naked he always gets the first taste.
She must have anticipated their bad behavior. Today she’s in skimpy white cotton, and she’s determined to make his punishment even more severe. She walks to the bench, her finger slowly tracing the lines of his face, her hand caressing his hair before she pauses just within his line of sight and slips off the cotton knickers before sliding her hands between her thighs. He hopes-but no, she really isn’t amused that they’d started without her, and she crouches near his head so that he can smell her as she licks one slick finger after another. James succumbs to need; Alesha creates want.
Now naked, Alesha straddles James’s chest facing his feet. She hovers just out of reach, her knees trapping his upper arms at his sides. He knows better than to try to touch her with his hands or tongue; she’s quite cross, and he’s thankful she denies herself to build his need for her.
Matt bites his lip at the show unfolding before him. He’d been right about what she wanted, her scent anointing James as she briefly lowers herself to touch the skin of his chest. Matt removes his clothing quickly while Alesha paints hieroglyphs on James’s skin with her again-slick fingers. He imagines she’s writing their names or their words in indelible ink-she’s marked him this way before too-and Matt’s cock is as hard as James’s as she offers a finger to him to taste. He revels in the wicked gleam in her eyes as she offers him James’s treat. He enjoys watching her playful torments, and he reaches behind her to dip in his own fingers, hoping that James can see and smell and long to taste. This is what James had wanted, after all-he’d started things early, appealing to Matt’s rebellious streak knowing that Alesha would walk in on them. Matt likes to play games; James is a master at orchestrating them.
They are all three naked now. Matt kneels between James’s legs, sucking his balls, kissing his cock, dipping his tongue into his sensitive navel, then extending his body up his torso to lick and suckle at Alesha’s clit. He knows she has another punishment in store for him, but that’s OK too; he doesn’t mind taking this favorite treat away from James if it means he gets his favorite later, although she surely has to know he won’t indulge her control much longer.
“The name of the game,” he hums against her, and she leans back, her palms flat on the leather as his tongue laps at her. Time to up the ante, and really, he knows exactly where he wants to be in the next twenty minutes. She’s panting when he stops abruptly, standing quickly and moving to the opposite end of the bench, his hands wrapping around her torso to pinch her nipples hard, cupping her breasts in his hands as James quickly sucks at the head of his cock. Alesha loves small processes; Matt thrills in thwarting them, shifting the position or activity of his hands as soon as he feels she’s getting too comfortable with his touch.
He bites into her shoulder, eliciting the desired gasp and momentary loss of control. He pushes her down toward James’s hard cock, which she eagerly takes in her mouth, giving up her role as Matt positions her hips over James’s mouth. His arms freed and the balance of power now shifted, James wastes no time, his mouth and tongue licking her, his arms slipping between and around her thighs to press her that slightest bit closer to his mouth and nose.
Matt sits on the leather chair and watches, his right hand lazily stroking his hard cock, his left tangled in his own short hair, the scent of their fluids on his skin sneaking toward his nostrils intermittently. He won’t have to wait here too long; lust will soon take over, and James is his rawest when that moment comes to pass. Matt sits on the chair and watches him smother in her.
Alesha is mewling, James’s cock slipping out of her mouth with greater frequency as she presses her body against his face. Matt smiles as he toys with the droplet perched at the top of his cock; if he knows James, it’s time for Alesha’s punishment for-well, really, the punishments are just part of the game, aren’t they, and the anticipation means that everyone wins in the end. Matt likes winning.
James stops touching and kissing her, his strong hands gently pushing her hips away from his face. She puts up no resistance as he maneuvers from beneath her and turns her body over on the bench, but slyly pouts when he clasps her wrists together to keep her hands from reaching their target between her thighs.
“Not time yet, as my learned friend should well know.” His mouth suckles and bites at each nipple while his free hand motions for Matt to help him.
Matt loves the endgame. He collects their discarded ties and swiftly immobilizes her hands by crossing her arms at her chest, tying her wrists together with James’s tie, then using the length of silken rope she’s brought for this express purpose to bind her to the bench. James brushes her hair from her eyes and kisses her tenderly while Matt dips his tongue into her before returning to his chair.
Alesha moans as she watches James kneel between Matt’s legs, the smooth expanse of the skin of his back blocking her view of his actions. This is her punishment: she’s unable to give herself any relief, trapped on the bench to only imagine the sight of James’s mouth over Matt’s cock, his fingers whispering at the skin below. She loves watching them, especially when they pleasure each other in the heavy dark of James’s massive four poster bed, when they rest their heads on one another’s thighs in Matt’s modern and angular bedroom, when they play at wrestling for control on the crisp sheets of her platform. She loves to see each indulge in the other, and knows that they frequently enjoy the same pleasure when she is in focus, Matt watching her share a bath with James, James pretending to read while she rides Matt’s cock on a deep leather chair.
She thinks they are beautiful. One is neat edges, the other jagged and raw. Some days she can’t tell who is smooth and who is rough. Watching them now, Matt’s hips undulating in time with the movement of James’s head, she feels like the raw one, desire causing her to clench her thighs in a desperate attempt to create enough friction to end the ache between her legs. “Please,” she cries, lust and loneliness pushing her to break the rules of the game she plays with herself, “I want-“
Matt’s eyes slowly open to meet hers, and he knows playtime is nearly over. He caresses James’s hair and strokes his cheek before slipping from his mouth. He bends to kiss him, tasting what’s to come. Another night they’ll just be two-Alesha and James, Matt and James, Matt and Alesha-but tonight three are one. The kiss ends in smiles as they rise, walk over to where Alesha lies, and gently kiss and nip at her skin as they share the task of freeing her arms. Each balances the other two and over time they’d found in this-would one call it a tripling?-the fullest expression of themselves. No matter where it begins, it always ends in this.
James lies back on the bench, his hips soon straddled by Alesha’s body as Matt takes hold of his cock and guides their joining, his hands then stilling her while he presses himself against her back, pushing her gently forward, opening her to him too. James steadies her with his hands while Matt presses into her, the three of them gasping at the sensation of this favorite moment, this making of the word they feel for one another every day. Tonight she brings them to one another, but really, it could be any of them in the center enacting the simultaneous give and take that binds them.
They are all so close to the end that they try draw it out, not moving at first but feeling, wanting, needing, playing with time. James kisses Alesha slowly while Matt sucks at that spot just at the nape of her neck. Alesha reaches one arm below and the other behind to scratch her nails up opposite sides of bodies. Matt balances on one hand while the other covers James’s at her hip as they move her, move within her, feel each other through her body. Her hands grip James’s shoulders, nails digging into the tender flesh as she feels a pulse of love where they join, then sends it outward and around them, drawing them both deeper into her.
A groan. “So close.”
A gasp. “I’m coming.”
A moan. “I love you.”
A sigh extends over skin. A softening. A melting and collapsing and a bit of respite before they kiss and gather their belongings to head into the cool night air.
###
On Monday George is all gruffness and bluster as he prepares to storm from the office when he bangs his shin into the new leather bench they’ve ordered for their shared workspace. “And this,” he pointed at his assailant, “bloody piece of furniture has to be the most useless thing I’ve seen this year!”
James feels himself growing hard as Alesha winks at him from her doorway. “Really? I find it’s made the work environment that much more pleasant.”
Characters: Matt Devlin, Alesha Phillips, James Steel
Rating: NC-17. Smutty smutty smut.
Spoilers: No plot = no spoiling.
Disclaimer: Show and characters belong to Dick Wolf, and I suppose, ITV. The bench should be mine.
Summary: The pleasure of four letter words.
A/N: This story began as a drabble for bamberriffic, who requested Matt/James. I just couldn’t manage to keep Alesha out, and it’s clearly exceeded drabble length. I may write a proper one later, but for now, my dear, what you see…
Thanks to radiantbaby and persiflage_1 for beta reading.
###
A gasp. “No time.”
A grunt. “Don’t care.”
A whimper. “But the clock-“
A groan. “Don’t care.”
A whisper. “She’ll catch us.”
A chuckle. “Let her.”
Matt pulls his head from the spot on James’s neck that he finds so very appealing and pushes him down onto the wide leather bench before straddling his thighs and biting him once more. James groans and tugs Matt’s shirt from his trousers, sliding his hands up his back to scratch at the smooth skin.
James rasps into his ear. “I need-“
This is what Matt wants to hear. Between them it’s always about some four letter word. Lust. Want. Play. Love.
But Need? Well, need is as raw as it gets. Matt likes raw.
He unbuckles, unbuttons, and unzips, exposing James’s skin swiftly so that his tongue and teeth can attack that bit of flesh just at the hipbone while he strokes his cock with his hand. He knows this isn’t what James wants-no, correct that, needs-but that’s how this little game goes; no matter what four letter word is chosen, each satisfies it in their own way.
James’s hand caresses Matt’s hair softly at first, then with rough urgency as he grows increasingly desperate to be consumed. Matt looks up at the blue eyes challenging him, piercing him, begging him for release and grins, planting a leisurely trail of kisses on his inner thighs, licking the skin of his groin, his fingers lightly holding his cock as he blooms a tiny rose garden across his pelvis.
James whimpers. Matt’s won this round.
It’s a relief when Matt finally takes him in his mouth, first licking the length of him, then engulfing him entirely in one swift motion. He needs to draw this out, he needs to let it go, he needs-him. Her. Them.
Matt feels James surrender, the hips below him bucking, the hands at his head stroking and then clenching his hair. He quickens the pace and intensity of his ministrations, rubbing a finger just around the small ring only he can wear, pressing his finger just through the opening as James gasps and a stern voice behind Matt says, “I told you to wait for me.”
James locks eyes with a crossly bemused Alesha, who takes pity on him and nods, giving him the permission he needs to succumb to Matt’s defiantly continued attentions. His smile apologizes over his pleasure before he growls and groans his release. Matt’s head is roughly jerked from his cock by Alesha’s hand. Denial of the fruit of his labor: this is Matt’s punishment.
When James’s orgasm subsides, Alesha strokes the liquid on his belly and shoves her finger into Matt’s half-opened mouth. He suckles her with a wicked smile. She leans forward and kisses him sweetly, replacing her finger with her tongue for the briefest of moments before licking her way to whisper in his ear.
“Clean it up. Don’t get a drop on the leather.”
Matt takes his time, his tongue slowly traversing the landscape of James’s cock and pelvis, then up toward and beyond his navel. He isn’t remotely concerned with finishing quickly; Alesha hasn’t specified a timeframe for this task. Her mistake. She usually made him do this with greater speed, and while he does like to please her, he’s always looking for a moment to indulge in a bit of play. Having this normally staid prosecutor writhing beneath his tongue and teeth, aching for the feel of his hands on his skin, for the thrust of his cock inside him? Play doesn’t get much better than that. Besides; if she’s about to do what he suspects she might, a very sweet treasure awaits his completion of this task, and he intends to take his time getting there. She isn’t above punishment, after all.
James’s attentions are divided between Matt’s languid licking and Alesha’s swift, almost dispassionate disrobing. This is his punishment: he loves undressing her slowly, peeling away the soft, then tailored layers to find out what she’d adorned herself in that morning. He’d bought her a fruit basket of silks and laces and takes great delight in sampling her through the fabrics as she moans beneath his mouth. She feeds his hunger with perfect fairness, always fulfilling him just enough, always leaving him wanting that much more. When she lets him strip her naked he always gets the first taste.
She must have anticipated their bad behavior. Today she’s in skimpy white cotton, and she’s determined to make his punishment even more severe. She walks to the bench, her finger slowly tracing the lines of his face, her hand caressing his hair before she pauses just within his line of sight and slips off the cotton knickers before sliding her hands between her thighs. He hopes-but no, she really isn’t amused that they’d started without her, and she crouches near his head so that he can smell her as she licks one slick finger after another. James succumbs to need; Alesha creates want.
Now naked, Alesha straddles James’s chest facing his feet. She hovers just out of reach, her knees trapping his upper arms at his sides. He knows better than to try to touch her with his hands or tongue; she’s quite cross, and he’s thankful she denies herself to build his need for her.
Matt bites his lip at the show unfolding before him. He’d been right about what she wanted, her scent anointing James as she briefly lowers herself to touch the skin of his chest. Matt removes his clothing quickly while Alesha paints hieroglyphs on James’s skin with her again-slick fingers. He imagines she’s writing their names or their words in indelible ink-she’s marked him this way before too-and Matt’s cock is as hard as James’s as she offers a finger to him to taste. He revels in the wicked gleam in her eyes as she offers him James’s treat. He enjoys watching her playful torments, and he reaches behind her to dip in his own fingers, hoping that James can see and smell and long to taste. This is what James had wanted, after all-he’d started things early, appealing to Matt’s rebellious streak knowing that Alesha would walk in on them. Matt likes to play games; James is a master at orchestrating them.
They are all three naked now. Matt kneels between James’s legs, sucking his balls, kissing his cock, dipping his tongue into his sensitive navel, then extending his body up his torso to lick and suckle at Alesha’s clit. He knows she has another punishment in store for him, but that’s OK too; he doesn’t mind taking this favorite treat away from James if it means he gets his favorite later, although she surely has to know he won’t indulge her control much longer.
“The name of the game,” he hums against her, and she leans back, her palms flat on the leather as his tongue laps at her. Time to up the ante, and really, he knows exactly where he wants to be in the next twenty minutes. She’s panting when he stops abruptly, standing quickly and moving to the opposite end of the bench, his hands wrapping around her torso to pinch her nipples hard, cupping her breasts in his hands as James quickly sucks at the head of his cock. Alesha loves small processes; Matt thrills in thwarting them, shifting the position or activity of his hands as soon as he feels she’s getting too comfortable with his touch.
He bites into her shoulder, eliciting the desired gasp and momentary loss of control. He pushes her down toward James’s hard cock, which she eagerly takes in her mouth, giving up her role as Matt positions her hips over James’s mouth. His arms freed and the balance of power now shifted, James wastes no time, his mouth and tongue licking her, his arms slipping between and around her thighs to press her that slightest bit closer to his mouth and nose.
Matt sits on the leather chair and watches, his right hand lazily stroking his hard cock, his left tangled in his own short hair, the scent of their fluids on his skin sneaking toward his nostrils intermittently. He won’t have to wait here too long; lust will soon take over, and James is his rawest when that moment comes to pass. Matt sits on the chair and watches him smother in her.
Alesha is mewling, James’s cock slipping out of her mouth with greater frequency as she presses her body against his face. Matt smiles as he toys with the droplet perched at the top of his cock; if he knows James, it’s time for Alesha’s punishment for-well, really, the punishments are just part of the game, aren’t they, and the anticipation means that everyone wins in the end. Matt likes winning.
James stops touching and kissing her, his strong hands gently pushing her hips away from his face. She puts up no resistance as he maneuvers from beneath her and turns her body over on the bench, but slyly pouts when he clasps her wrists together to keep her hands from reaching their target between her thighs.
“Not time yet, as my learned friend should well know.” His mouth suckles and bites at each nipple while his free hand motions for Matt to help him.
Matt loves the endgame. He collects their discarded ties and swiftly immobilizes her hands by crossing her arms at her chest, tying her wrists together with James’s tie, then using the length of silken rope she’s brought for this express purpose to bind her to the bench. James brushes her hair from her eyes and kisses her tenderly while Matt dips his tongue into her before returning to his chair.
Alesha moans as she watches James kneel between Matt’s legs, the smooth expanse of the skin of his back blocking her view of his actions. This is her punishment: she’s unable to give herself any relief, trapped on the bench to only imagine the sight of James’s mouth over Matt’s cock, his fingers whispering at the skin below. She loves watching them, especially when they pleasure each other in the heavy dark of James’s massive four poster bed, when they rest their heads on one another’s thighs in Matt’s modern and angular bedroom, when they play at wrestling for control on the crisp sheets of her platform. She loves to see each indulge in the other, and knows that they frequently enjoy the same pleasure when she is in focus, Matt watching her share a bath with James, James pretending to read while she rides Matt’s cock on a deep leather chair.
She thinks they are beautiful. One is neat edges, the other jagged and raw. Some days she can’t tell who is smooth and who is rough. Watching them now, Matt’s hips undulating in time with the movement of James’s head, she feels like the raw one, desire causing her to clench her thighs in a desperate attempt to create enough friction to end the ache between her legs. “Please,” she cries, lust and loneliness pushing her to break the rules of the game she plays with herself, “I want-“
Matt’s eyes slowly open to meet hers, and he knows playtime is nearly over. He caresses James’s hair and strokes his cheek before slipping from his mouth. He bends to kiss him, tasting what’s to come. Another night they’ll just be two-Alesha and James, Matt and James, Matt and Alesha-but tonight three are one. The kiss ends in smiles as they rise, walk over to where Alesha lies, and gently kiss and nip at her skin as they share the task of freeing her arms. Each balances the other two and over time they’d found in this-would one call it a tripling?-the fullest expression of themselves. No matter where it begins, it always ends in this.
James lies back on the bench, his hips soon straddled by Alesha’s body as Matt takes hold of his cock and guides their joining, his hands then stilling her while he presses himself against her back, pushing her gently forward, opening her to him too. James steadies her with his hands while Matt presses into her, the three of them gasping at the sensation of this favorite moment, this making of the word they feel for one another every day. Tonight she brings them to one another, but really, it could be any of them in the center enacting the simultaneous give and take that binds them.
They are all so close to the end that they try draw it out, not moving at first but feeling, wanting, needing, playing with time. James kisses Alesha slowly while Matt sucks at that spot just at the nape of her neck. Alesha reaches one arm below and the other behind to scratch her nails up opposite sides of bodies. Matt balances on one hand while the other covers James’s at her hip as they move her, move within her, feel each other through her body. Her hands grip James’s shoulders, nails digging into the tender flesh as she feels a pulse of love where they join, then sends it outward and around them, drawing them both deeper into her.
A groan. “So close.”
A gasp. “I’m coming.”
A moan. “I love you.”
A sigh extends over skin. A softening. A melting and collapsing and a bit of respite before they kiss and gather their belongings to head into the cool night air.
###
On Monday George is all gruffness and bluster as he prepares to storm from the office when he bangs his shin into the new leather bench they’ve ordered for their shared workspace. “And this,” he pointed at his assailant, “bloody piece of furniture has to be the most useless thing I’ve seen this year!”
James feels himself growing hard as Alesha winks at him from her doorway. “Really? I find it’s made the work environment that much more pleasant.”