Obviously Off-Limits
“Fellas,” he called out casually, quickly catching his breath, “you mind losing the guns? You’re gonna give my girl a heart attack.”
Hey! This is dedicated to dl_greenarrow whose "Wildly Inappropriate" drabble made my day yesterday. Seriously. Any conversation that starts with Oliver Queen asking, "So, what are you wearing?" is ALL kinds of money to me.
I disclaim. Not my characters.
Obviously Off-Limits
Ordinarily, Mike O’Reilly didn’t mind his job. For the past six years, he’d been part of William Chandler’s private security detail and it went without saying that working for one of the richest men in the telecommunications field came with a perk or two. On nights like this though - when Chandler opened up his sprawling New York mansion and welcomed about a hundred or so of his wealthiest associates for yet another lifeless soiree - Mike usually ended up thinking that his job blew. He hated having to spend a perfectly good evening away from his wife and girls. He hated standing around in a monkey suit while uppity guests who wore more money than he made in a year gossiped, backstabbed and generally pretended to enjoy each others’ company. Mostly though, he hated working with Tommy Davidson because as nice as the kid was, he never shut up.
“So Machida’s just sizing him up, you know?” Tommy explained excitedly, bouncing back and forth on his heels slightly as he delivered his blow-by-blow account of the big fight he’d seen on pay-per-view the weekend before. “He’s being all evasive like, ducking and weaving. Just reeling the guy in, you know?”
Mike sighed deeply. He did know. Tommy had spent most of yesterday’s shift hashing out the exact same fight and despite what the young man might think, his patented colour commentary didn’t improve with repetition. It was going to be a long night.
“I’m all like, ‘C’mon! Make a move already!’,” Tommy continued, way too wrapped up in his story to register Mike’s total disinterest. “Then, BAM! Right outta nowhere, dude steps into it and just demolishes the guy! I swear to God. Coolest. Thing. Ever!”
Mike sighed again. Every fight Tommy saw was the ‘Coolest. Thing. Ever’. So was every new action flick he went to, or every new video game he bought. The kid really needed to get himself a girlfriend. Fast.
Luckily, Tommy was interrupted when the EDA at Mike’s hip started beeping shrilly. Reaching for the handheld computer without hesitation, Mike automatically turned away from the crowd around him and glanced down at the device, stunned to see the flashing message indicating that an alarm had been tripped.
“What’s up?” Tommy asked lowly, all signs of his usual ridiculousness vanishing as the possibility that something was wrong turned him serious.
“An alarm’s going off,” Mike answered gruffly, double-checking the location before reaching to his ear and pressing his communicator.
“O’Reilly to Tucker, I’ve got an alarm in the east wing,” he reported, keeping his voice measured in order to avoid getting any of the guests riled up. “Davidson and I are heading to the study to check it out. Send Marks and Howard to cover us off.”
Barely waiting for Tucker’s confirmation, Mike nodded to Tommy and the two set off down the sweeping corridor, working their way discreetly through the labyrinth like house until they arrived at the huge wooden doors that blocked off their billionaire boss’ study.
Wearing an energized grin, Tommy reached for the handle right away, but Mike grabbed his shoulder roughly.
“One,” Mike began, his voice a harsh whisper, “don’t just barge in there. Take a second to listen for any noises coming from inside. Two, wipe that stupid ass grin off your face cause this isn’t supposed to be fun.”
Tommy’s hand fell away from the door immediately, but his smirk stayed in place.
“Says you,” the young man replied. “This stuff is awesome.”
Mike shook his head despairingly and decided to just accept the fact that there wasn’t much hope for the kid. Pushing the younger man out of the way, he cocked his ear at the door and waited for any telling sounds from the other side. After a moment of silence, he gripped the brass handle with one hand and slid his firearm out of his holster with the other.
Following Mike’s lead, Tommy drew his own gun and at his curt nod, the two men threw the doors open forcefully.
“Hold it!” Mike shouted as they stormed into the dimly lit space, their eyes searching methodically for intruders.
“Whoa!” A man’s voice sounded from the opposite side of the room. “Guys, you’re really killing the mood here!”
Mike and Tommy snapped towards the voice in unison, their weapons raised and ready for a fight, only to lose all of their intimidation points when their mouths dropped open at the sight that greeted them.
Pressed up against Mr. Chandler’s imposing mahogany desk were a man and a woman, both blonde and judging by his dark tuxedo and her satiny gown, both party guests. The tiny woman was perched on the edge of the desk, acres of pale skin and a pair of groan worthy heels on display as her legs dangled at either side of the tall man. Her eyes were green and bright and huge as she returned Mike and Tommy’s shocked stare, her panting breath causing her strapless dress to slip lower and lower along her heaving chest.
For his part, the man watched Mike and Tommy over his shoulder as he held his place against the woman, his hands buried in yards of fabric at the very top of her thighs. His hair was a rumpled mess and his shirt looked like it had been forced open, but unlike the woman’s deer in the headlights impression, his face split into an amused smile.
“Fellas,” he called out casually, quickly catching his breath, “you mind losing the guns? You’re gonna give my girl a heart attack.”
Some sort of recognition struck Mike and he narrowed his eyes at the man, trying to figure out what was causing the familiarity. All at once, the answer came to him and he straightened uncomfortably out of his defensive stance, thankful he’d taken the time to pour over the priority guest list Mr. Chandler’s staff had diligently prepared.
“Mr. Queen?” He ventured, carefully lowering his weapon until it was pointing towards the floor and sending a glance to Tommy to let him know he should do the same.
The man’s charming smile widened.
“The one and only,” he drawled, releasing his hands from the woman’s thighs and giving her dress a subtle tug that sent the material cascading down, covering the shapely legs from sight. “How are you gentlemen doing this evening? Liking the party?”
Mike and Tommy glanced at each other again, wishing their training had covered what to do when you catch one of your boss’ VIPs getting it on in a restricted area.
Mr. Queen’s brow quirked at their silence.
“You can be honest guys,” he chuckled. “This isn’t my first time at one of Bill’s parties. I know what a drag they can be.”
He glanced down at the woman who was still wrapped around him, smirking at her for a moment before looking back to Mike and Tommy knowingly.
“Hence our compromising position,” he divulged.
The tiny blonde had been studying all three men apprehensively, but at Mr. Queen’s thinly veiled innuendo, she let out an indignant gasp and promptly socked the man solidly in the shoulder.
“C’mon now,” he teased, catching her hand in his before she could hit him again and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Don’t act like it wasn’t your idea!”
Before the little thing had a chance to reprimand him with her free hand, he wrapped her wrist in his grip and kept her arm tucked tightly to his side.
“Feisty,” he grinned approvingly, dropping a kiss to her nose before swinging back around to face Mike and Tommy.
“Any chance you guys could give us about twenty minutes?” He inquired mischievously.
“Oliver!” The blonde hissed through clenched teeth.
He turned to her with raised brows, clearly enjoying himself.
“Sorry,” he revised, smirking proudly at Mike and Tommy, “better make it thirty. I wouldn’t want to disappoint the lady.”
“I hate you,” the woman muttered sullenly under her breath, the flush filling her cheeks visible despite the poor lighting in the room.
“Uh, sir,” Mike interrupted, thinking - not for the first time - that rich people were just plain nuts. “This room is off-limits.”
The tall man tilted his head at Mike.
“Well, yeah,” he agreed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “that’s why we came here. There’s things she’s only willing to do with a little privacy.”
The woman’s eyes were huge again and with a quick move, she broke the hold he had on her wrist and punched him square in the chest, hard.
“See what I mean?” Mr. Queen grinned, taking her abuse in stride.
“See, I understand that,” Mike tried, amazed at the man’s audacity, “but we can’t let you just stay here. It’s off limits for a reason.”
“Really?” The blonde man exclaimed, strangely delighted by Mike’s unwillingness to compromise. “Anything I can do to change that?”
“Well…” Tommy began, blatantly interested to know where Mr. Queen’s hint was heading, but Mike pinned the kid with a glare that had his mouth quickly slamming shut and his head vigorously shaking out a no.
Mr. Queen’s eyes went back and forth between the two men, taking in the silent exchange with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“I like you,” he declared suddenly, pointing at Mike. “Would you be interested in working for me?”
Mike stared at the man incredulously, now certain that wealth really did come with a healthy dose of crazy.
“Thank you sir,” he began, “but my family and I are happy where we are.”
The tall man nodded approvingly, reaching to his shirt and beginning to do up the buttons, shrugging carelessly when he discovered that a couple of them were missing.
“A family man, good for you,” he affirmed as he set about effortlessly tying his ruined bowtie, his well-practiced hands making quick work of a task Mike himself would never be able to accomplish if it weren’t for his wife.
“Yeah, thanks,” Mike mumbled, his eyes trailing over to the woman who seemed as flummoxed as him over the whole situation.
“Uh, miss?” He called out, addressing the young lady directly for the first time. “The desk you’re sitting on is very old and very expensive. Could you, maybe, get off it?”
He had a fleeting thought that the poor girl’s eyes were going to get stuck wide open cause his request made them saucer-sized yet again. Stuttering out a hurried apology, she slid off the desk and nearly lost her loosened gown in her scramble to get to her feet. Luckily, Mr. Queen seemed to possess some serious reflexes because his hands darted out and easily caught the garment before Mike and Tommy got a eyeful.
Ignoring her squirming, he pulled the girl towards him and gathered the gown at her back, pulling the zipper all the way back up before leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her bare collar bone.
“Well gentlemen,” he stated, as he pulled himself to his full height and raked a hand through his hair, drawing the tiny blonde woman against his side with his other. “If you’re not going to let us stay in here, I guess the limo will just have to do.”
The woman’s eye roll was massive, but she refrained from anymore hitting, apparently resigned to his boasting.
“Nice,” Tommy grinned unconsciously, earning another glare from Mike for his slip.
Shaking his head at his partner’s lack of professionalism, Mike returned his attention to the blonde twosome.
“I appreciate the cooperation,” he offered, stepping back to allow the pair to pass.
“Have a good night fellas,” Mr. Queen threw over his shoulder in parting, the hand he had wrapped around the young woman sliding to rest on her backside. “I know I will!”
Tommy snickered at the words, but it was when the little blonde whirled about and smacked Queen’s hand sharply away from her that Mike let out a laugh. He watched the two as they entered the hallway, surprised by the unexpectedly affectionate looks the tall man kept sending towards the fuming woman marching beside him.
“Man,” Tommy exclaimed, “she was cute! Must be nice to be him, huh?”
“Whatever,” Mike dismissed, ready to lock the study back up when something caught his eye.
When Queen and the woman had been seated on the desk, they’d mostly blocked the view of the window behind them, but now that they were gone, he could see the room reflected in the glass panes as clear as day.
Frowning, he quickly crossed the space and circled the desk.
“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked, watching him curiously.
Mike couldn’t believe his eyes.
“The computer’s on,” he answered in disbelief, his head snapping up to stare past the room’s entrance and down the long hallway the two blondes should have still been travelling along, but they’d vanished.
Mike straightened slowly and scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly. That settled it. He hated his fucking job.
Hey! This is dedicated to dl_greenarrow whose "Wildly Inappropriate" drabble made my day yesterday. Seriously. Any conversation that starts with Oliver Queen asking, "So, what are you wearing?" is ALL kinds of money to me.
I disclaim. Not my characters.
Obviously Off-Limits
Ordinarily, Mike O’Reilly didn’t mind his job. For the past six years, he’d been part of William Chandler’s private security detail and it went without saying that working for one of the richest men in the telecommunications field came with a perk or two. On nights like this though - when Chandler opened up his sprawling New York mansion and welcomed about a hundred or so of his wealthiest associates for yet another lifeless soiree - Mike usually ended up thinking that his job blew. He hated having to spend a perfectly good evening away from his wife and girls. He hated standing around in a monkey suit while uppity guests who wore more money than he made in a year gossiped, backstabbed and generally pretended to enjoy each others’ company. Mostly though, he hated working with Tommy Davidson because as nice as the kid was, he never shut up.
“So Machida’s just sizing him up, you know?” Tommy explained excitedly, bouncing back and forth on his heels slightly as he delivered his blow-by-blow account of the big fight he’d seen on pay-per-view the weekend before. “He’s being all evasive like, ducking and weaving. Just reeling the guy in, you know?”
Mike sighed deeply. He did know. Tommy had spent most of yesterday’s shift hashing out the exact same fight and despite what the young man might think, his patented colour commentary didn’t improve with repetition. It was going to be a long night.
“I’m all like, ‘C’mon! Make a move already!’,” Tommy continued, way too wrapped up in his story to register Mike’s total disinterest. “Then, BAM! Right outta nowhere, dude steps into it and just demolishes the guy! I swear to God. Coolest. Thing. Ever!”
Mike sighed again. Every fight Tommy saw was the ‘Coolest. Thing. Ever’. So was every new action flick he went to, or every new video game he bought. The kid really needed to get himself a girlfriend. Fast.
Luckily, Tommy was interrupted when the EDA at Mike’s hip started beeping shrilly. Reaching for the handheld computer without hesitation, Mike automatically turned away from the crowd around him and glanced down at the device, stunned to see the flashing message indicating that an alarm had been tripped.
“What’s up?” Tommy asked lowly, all signs of his usual ridiculousness vanishing as the possibility that something was wrong turned him serious.
“An alarm’s going off,” Mike answered gruffly, double-checking the location before reaching to his ear and pressing his communicator.
“O’Reilly to Tucker, I’ve got an alarm in the east wing,” he reported, keeping his voice measured in order to avoid getting any of the guests riled up. “Davidson and I are heading to the study to check it out. Send Marks and Howard to cover us off.”
Barely waiting for Tucker’s confirmation, Mike nodded to Tommy and the two set off down the sweeping corridor, working their way discreetly through the labyrinth like house until they arrived at the huge wooden doors that blocked off their billionaire boss’ study.
Wearing an energized grin, Tommy reached for the handle right away, but Mike grabbed his shoulder roughly.
“One,” Mike began, his voice a harsh whisper, “don’t just barge in there. Take a second to listen for any noises coming from inside. Two, wipe that stupid ass grin off your face cause this isn’t supposed to be fun.”
Tommy’s hand fell away from the door immediately, but his smirk stayed in place.
“Says you,” the young man replied. “This stuff is awesome.”
Mike shook his head despairingly and decided to just accept the fact that there wasn’t much hope for the kid. Pushing the younger man out of the way, he cocked his ear at the door and waited for any telling sounds from the other side. After a moment of silence, he gripped the brass handle with one hand and slid his firearm out of his holster with the other.
Following Mike’s lead, Tommy drew his own gun and at his curt nod, the two men threw the doors open forcefully.
“Hold it!” Mike shouted as they stormed into the dimly lit space, their eyes searching methodically for intruders.
“Whoa!” A man’s voice sounded from the opposite side of the room. “Guys, you’re really killing the mood here!”
Mike and Tommy snapped towards the voice in unison, their weapons raised and ready for a fight, only to lose all of their intimidation points when their mouths dropped open at the sight that greeted them.
Pressed up against Mr. Chandler’s imposing mahogany desk were a man and a woman, both blonde and judging by his dark tuxedo and her satiny gown, both party guests. The tiny woman was perched on the edge of the desk, acres of pale skin and a pair of groan worthy heels on display as her legs dangled at either side of the tall man. Her eyes were green and bright and huge as she returned Mike and Tommy’s shocked stare, her panting breath causing her strapless dress to slip lower and lower along her heaving chest.
For his part, the man watched Mike and Tommy over his shoulder as he held his place against the woman, his hands buried in yards of fabric at the very top of her thighs. His hair was a rumpled mess and his shirt looked like it had been forced open, but unlike the woman’s deer in the headlights impression, his face split into an amused smile.
“Fellas,” he called out casually, quickly catching his breath, “you mind losing the guns? You’re gonna give my girl a heart attack.”
Some sort of recognition struck Mike and he narrowed his eyes at the man, trying to figure out what was causing the familiarity. All at once, the answer came to him and he straightened uncomfortably out of his defensive stance, thankful he’d taken the time to pour over the priority guest list Mr. Chandler’s staff had diligently prepared.
“Mr. Queen?” He ventured, carefully lowering his weapon until it was pointing towards the floor and sending a glance to Tommy to let him know he should do the same.
The man’s charming smile widened.
“The one and only,” he drawled, releasing his hands from the woman’s thighs and giving her dress a subtle tug that sent the material cascading down, covering the shapely legs from sight. “How are you gentlemen doing this evening? Liking the party?”
Mike and Tommy glanced at each other again, wishing their training had covered what to do when you catch one of your boss’ VIPs getting it on in a restricted area.
Mr. Queen’s brow quirked at their silence.
“You can be honest guys,” he chuckled. “This isn’t my first time at one of Bill’s parties. I know what a drag they can be.”
He glanced down at the woman who was still wrapped around him, smirking at her for a moment before looking back to Mike and Tommy knowingly.
“Hence our compromising position,” he divulged.
The tiny blonde had been studying all three men apprehensively, but at Mr. Queen’s thinly veiled innuendo, she let out an indignant gasp and promptly socked the man solidly in the shoulder.
“C’mon now,” he teased, catching her hand in his before she could hit him again and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Don’t act like it wasn’t your idea!”
Before the little thing had a chance to reprimand him with her free hand, he wrapped her wrist in his grip and kept her arm tucked tightly to his side.
“Feisty,” he grinned approvingly, dropping a kiss to her nose before swinging back around to face Mike and Tommy.
“Any chance you guys could give us about twenty minutes?” He inquired mischievously.
“Oliver!” The blonde hissed through clenched teeth.
He turned to her with raised brows, clearly enjoying himself.
“Sorry,” he revised, smirking proudly at Mike and Tommy, “better make it thirty. I wouldn’t want to disappoint the lady.”
“I hate you,” the woman muttered sullenly under her breath, the flush filling her cheeks visible despite the poor lighting in the room.
“Uh, sir,” Mike interrupted, thinking - not for the first time - that rich people were just plain nuts. “This room is off-limits.”
The tall man tilted his head at Mike.
“Well, yeah,” he agreed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “that’s why we came here. There’s things she’s only willing to do with a little privacy.”
The woman’s eyes were huge again and with a quick move, she broke the hold he had on her wrist and punched him square in the chest, hard.
“See what I mean?” Mr. Queen grinned, taking her abuse in stride.
“See, I understand that,” Mike tried, amazed at the man’s audacity, “but we can’t let you just stay here. It’s off limits for a reason.”
“Really?” The blonde man exclaimed, strangely delighted by Mike’s unwillingness to compromise. “Anything I can do to change that?”
“Well…” Tommy began, blatantly interested to know where Mr. Queen’s hint was heading, but Mike pinned the kid with a glare that had his mouth quickly slamming shut and his head vigorously shaking out a no.
Mr. Queen’s eyes went back and forth between the two men, taking in the silent exchange with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“I like you,” he declared suddenly, pointing at Mike. “Would you be interested in working for me?”
Mike stared at the man incredulously, now certain that wealth really did come with a healthy dose of crazy.
“Thank you sir,” he began, “but my family and I are happy where we are.”
The tall man nodded approvingly, reaching to his shirt and beginning to do up the buttons, shrugging carelessly when he discovered that a couple of them were missing.
“A family man, good for you,” he affirmed as he set about effortlessly tying his ruined bowtie, his well-practiced hands making quick work of a task Mike himself would never be able to accomplish if it weren’t for his wife.
“Yeah, thanks,” Mike mumbled, his eyes trailing over to the woman who seemed as flummoxed as him over the whole situation.
“Uh, miss?” He called out, addressing the young lady directly for the first time. “The desk you’re sitting on is very old and very expensive. Could you, maybe, get off it?”
He had a fleeting thought that the poor girl’s eyes were going to get stuck wide open cause his request made them saucer-sized yet again. Stuttering out a hurried apology, she slid off the desk and nearly lost her loosened gown in her scramble to get to her feet. Luckily, Mr. Queen seemed to possess some serious reflexes because his hands darted out and easily caught the garment before Mike and Tommy got a eyeful.
Ignoring her squirming, he pulled the girl towards him and gathered the gown at her back, pulling the zipper all the way back up before leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her bare collar bone.
“Well gentlemen,” he stated, as he pulled himself to his full height and raked a hand through his hair, drawing the tiny blonde woman against his side with his other. “If you’re not going to let us stay in here, I guess the limo will just have to do.”
The woman’s eye roll was massive, but she refrained from anymore hitting, apparently resigned to his boasting.
“Nice,” Tommy grinned unconsciously, earning another glare from Mike for his slip.
Shaking his head at his partner’s lack of professionalism, Mike returned his attention to the blonde twosome.
“I appreciate the cooperation,” he offered, stepping back to allow the pair to pass.
“Have a good night fellas,” Mr. Queen threw over his shoulder in parting, the hand he had wrapped around the young woman sliding to rest on her backside. “I know I will!”
Tommy snickered at the words, but it was when the little blonde whirled about and smacked Queen’s hand sharply away from her that Mike let out a laugh. He watched the two as they entered the hallway, surprised by the unexpectedly affectionate looks the tall man kept sending towards the fuming woman marching beside him.
“Man,” Tommy exclaimed, “she was cute! Must be nice to be him, huh?”
“Whatever,” Mike dismissed, ready to lock the study back up when something caught his eye.
When Queen and the woman had been seated on the desk, they’d mostly blocked the view of the window behind them, but now that they were gone, he could see the room reflected in the glass panes as clear as day.
Frowning, he quickly crossed the space and circled the desk.
“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked, watching him curiously.
Mike couldn’t believe his eyes.
“The computer’s on,” he answered in disbelief, his head snapping up to stare past the room’s entrance and down the long hallway the two blondes should have still been travelling along, but they’d vanished.
Mike straightened slowly and scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly. That settled it. He hated his fucking job.