FIC: The Devil Makes Work...
Title: The devil makes work…
Author: Me...yup, again.
Spoilers: None
Rating: Brown Cortina
Word Count: About 1600
Pairings: Chris/Ray
Summary: …for idle CID officers.
A/N: had writer’s block. Was prescribed some happy shagging pwp by Wicca. The result:
Ray ripped the sheet of paper out of his typewriter and screwed it up, throwing it onto the growing pile around his rubbish bin. He sighed, resting his head in his hands. He was just so bored. There were a hundred case files that demanded his attention, but not one of them was taking his interest. He flipped open his packet of cigarettes and lit one, leaning back in his chair and blowing perfectly formed smoke rings into the air. He glanced across at Chris who was studiously bent over his desk, one hand pushed into his hair, the other holding a pen that he was currently sucking.
Ray ripped a corner off the nearest ball of paper and wadded it up. He threw it across the office and hit Chris squarely on the head. Chris pushed his fingers further into his hair, but didn’t otherwise react.
Ray sighed, looking around for further ammunition. In the end he ripped up more paper, pulled an elastic band from around a file and fired a pellet at Chris.
Chris flinched and turned around, giving a small smile when he saw Ray grinning at him. Then he turned back, replacing the pen between his lips and carried on concentrating on his notes.
Ray frowned. He stood up, noisily scraping his chair back and headed for the table in the corner of the room to make himself a mug of tea. He dumped teabags in two mugs, automatically making Chris a cup without asking. He sloshed in some milk, put two sugars in Chris’s cup and then waited for the kettle to boil, flicking through the day before’s newspaper that someone had left lying around. Once the water was in the cups he carried them back into the main part of the office, dumping Chris’s on his desk, sloshing a bit of tea onto the wood. Chris barely looked up in acknowledgement, but transferred the mug onto an old beer mat and carried on his reading. He was still sucking the pen.
Ray returned to his own desk and flopped back into his chair. He scooped his teabag out of the mug, squeezing it hard to ensure his tea was as strong as possible. Then he looked from the wet bag to Chris. Before he could even start to think about the many reasons for not doing what he was about to do he perched the teabag on the end of the spoon and flicked it with perfect accuracy.
Chris yelped as the hot missile landed on the back of his neck, shoving himself backwards and jumping up as if he’d been stung. His hand clamped over the wet patch on his neck and he turned to Ray, who managed to keep his innocent expression for almost an entire second before exploding with a fit of the giggles.
“Stoppit,” Chris scolded, finding the teabag on the floor and dropping it into the bin.
Ray sat back, still giggling, and Chris returned to his seat, wiping his sleeve over the paperwork that now had a fine spray of tea on it.
Then he found a half-pack of Hobnobs in his desk drawer, so spent a few minutes carefully dunking them, one after another, letting them soak for five seconds longer each time. When the soggy half fell into his tea he sighed. Then launched the still-intact half toward Chris.
“For…” Chris stood up, wiping wet biscuit from his neck and trying to shake the crumbs that had fallen down his collar out. “’Aven’t you got anything better to do?” he snapped at Ray.
Ray smiled angelically and shook his head. Then he raised an eyebrow. “I can think of summit…but I can’t do it on me own,” he said in a low voice, knowing that most of the old guys in the room were deaf anyway.
“What?” Chris sighed. He’d been getting on really well with his case files and had even hoped he might clear his in-tray before pub time if no calls came in.
“Need some…err…’elp in the stationary cupboard.”
Chris obediently followed Ray, hoping that if he could find something else to occupy the DS then he might get a moment’s peace.
Ray unlocked the door, then glanced up and down the empty corridor before stepping inside. He flicked the light on, dragged Chris into the small room by the front of his shirt and firmly locked the door behind them.
“Wha’?” Chris started, then found himself pushed backward against the racking. He almost stumbled, catching himself by grabbing onto the edge of a shelf and half-leaning against a large stack of paper. Ray’s mouth sealed over his own and Chris immediately gave in, opening his mouth and closing his eyes. Ray began undoing Chris’s shirt, almost ripping it open, then trailed his lips around Chris’s jaw to his ear. Ray sucked on the lobe before biting it gently and moving on to Chris’s neck. By the time all the shirt buttons were undone Ray was licking down Chris’s chest, biting his nipples before gently soothing them with the flat of his tongue. Chris didn’t even notice his belt, button and flies were undone until his trousers slid down his thighs. His pants followed and suddenly Ray’s mouth was a warm wet haven around his cock. Chros groaned, completely trapped, knowing that if he let go of the racking with either hand he’d fall over, and Ray seemed to be pinning his thighs against the reams of paper. Ray sucked and licked Chris’s cock, from root to tip, one hand playing with Chris’s bollocks, the other reaching around and gripping one of his bum cheeks. Chris gasped as Ray’s tongue slid under the head of his now rock-hard dick and he couldn’t help but thrust his entire length into Ray’s mouth, setting up a perfect rhythm.
Then, all too suddenly, his orgasm was upon him and he bit his lip, clenched his fists and shuddered as he came, trying not to make a noise. He thrust himself as far into Ray’s mouth as he could, feeling Ray swallow as he blasted cum deep into his mouth. His knees were weak, his arms shaking, and suddenly Ray was standing in front of him again, leaning forward for a kiss.
Chris kissed back automatically, still panting, his mind racing to catch up with exactly what had just happened. He tasted himself on Ray for a brief moment before the other man turned away.
Ray unlocked the door, pulled the key from the lock and threw it over his shoulder.
“Lock up when you’re done,” he called back over his shoulder before leaving the cupboard, pulling the door half closed behind him.
Reality hit Chris with a rush. He was in the stationary cupboard. With the door open. And his trousers and underwear was around his knees, his wet cock softening against his thigh. Mostly naked. And he was in the stationary cupboard. With the door open. Half naked. In the stationary cupboard. In CID. And the door was open. He jumped, trying to stand upright, pull his trousers up, turn around and do up his shirt all at once. He almost ended up in a heap on the floor, hopping around as his trousers tried to kill him, all too aware that his arse was out for anyone who happened to walk in the door to see.
He shoved his half-done-up shirt into his waistband, fumbling with his belt buckle and looking around for where the key had landed.
Finally he almost fell into the corridor, locking the cupboard behind him and glancing around.
He scuttled back toward the CID office, sure that everyone would know exactly what he’d been up to. And where had Ray disappeared to?
He pushed the door open to see Hunt standing in the middle of the room. The DCI looked Chris up and down. “Ain’t you got enough work on, Christopher? What you been doing? Wankin’ in the bogs again?”
Chris felt himself flush bright red and shot a look at Ray, who was looking completely calm and collected, sitting up, back straight, tapping away on his typewriter, cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
“N…no, Guv,” Chris answered, unable to meet his superior’s gaze.
“Get on with yer work then.” Gene ordered. “Ray, keep an eye on ‘im, crack the whip.”
Ray looked up with a perfectly schooled look of surprise on his face. “’Course, Guv. Wilco. I’ll make sure he keeps ‘is head down.”
Chris almost choked, wondering how he’d managed to get himself from contentedly minding his own business and getting on with paperwork to being sucked off and told off in under ten minutes. He sat at his desk, head down, feeling the heat radiating from his skin and totally convinced that everyone must know exactly what it was he’d been doing. Or having done to him, at any rate. He picked up his pen again, noticing that his hand was still trembling slightly.
Gene harrumphed and headed back into his own office. Chris almost breathed a sigh of relief, trying to make the words on the page in front of him make sense, sure that his heart was still beating at twice its normal rate.
Then a small piece of screwed up paper hit him on the shoulder and rolled across his desk.
~Fin
Author: Me...yup, again.
Spoilers: None
Rating: Brown Cortina
Word Count: About 1600
Pairings: Chris/Ray
Summary: …for idle CID officers.
A/N: had writer’s block. Was prescribed some happy shagging pwp by Wicca. The result:
Ray ripped the sheet of paper out of his typewriter and screwed it up, throwing it onto the growing pile around his rubbish bin. He sighed, resting his head in his hands. He was just so bored. There were a hundred case files that demanded his attention, but not one of them was taking his interest. He flipped open his packet of cigarettes and lit one, leaning back in his chair and blowing perfectly formed smoke rings into the air. He glanced across at Chris who was studiously bent over his desk, one hand pushed into his hair, the other holding a pen that he was currently sucking.
Ray ripped a corner off the nearest ball of paper and wadded it up. He threw it across the office and hit Chris squarely on the head. Chris pushed his fingers further into his hair, but didn’t otherwise react.
Ray sighed, looking around for further ammunition. In the end he ripped up more paper, pulled an elastic band from around a file and fired a pellet at Chris.
Chris flinched and turned around, giving a small smile when he saw Ray grinning at him. Then he turned back, replacing the pen between his lips and carried on concentrating on his notes.
Ray frowned. He stood up, noisily scraping his chair back and headed for the table in the corner of the room to make himself a mug of tea. He dumped teabags in two mugs, automatically making Chris a cup without asking. He sloshed in some milk, put two sugars in Chris’s cup and then waited for the kettle to boil, flicking through the day before’s newspaper that someone had left lying around. Once the water was in the cups he carried them back into the main part of the office, dumping Chris’s on his desk, sloshing a bit of tea onto the wood. Chris barely looked up in acknowledgement, but transferred the mug onto an old beer mat and carried on his reading. He was still sucking the pen.
Ray returned to his own desk and flopped back into his chair. He scooped his teabag out of the mug, squeezing it hard to ensure his tea was as strong as possible. Then he looked from the wet bag to Chris. Before he could even start to think about the many reasons for not doing what he was about to do he perched the teabag on the end of the spoon and flicked it with perfect accuracy.
Chris yelped as the hot missile landed on the back of his neck, shoving himself backwards and jumping up as if he’d been stung. His hand clamped over the wet patch on his neck and he turned to Ray, who managed to keep his innocent expression for almost an entire second before exploding with a fit of the giggles.
“Stoppit,” Chris scolded, finding the teabag on the floor and dropping it into the bin.
Ray sat back, still giggling, and Chris returned to his seat, wiping his sleeve over the paperwork that now had a fine spray of tea on it.
Then he found a half-pack of Hobnobs in his desk drawer, so spent a few minutes carefully dunking them, one after another, letting them soak for five seconds longer each time. When the soggy half fell into his tea he sighed. Then launched the still-intact half toward Chris.
“For…” Chris stood up, wiping wet biscuit from his neck and trying to shake the crumbs that had fallen down his collar out. “’Aven’t you got anything better to do?” he snapped at Ray.
Ray smiled angelically and shook his head. Then he raised an eyebrow. “I can think of summit…but I can’t do it on me own,” he said in a low voice, knowing that most of the old guys in the room were deaf anyway.
“What?” Chris sighed. He’d been getting on really well with his case files and had even hoped he might clear his in-tray before pub time if no calls came in.
“Need some…err…’elp in the stationary cupboard.”
Chris obediently followed Ray, hoping that if he could find something else to occupy the DS then he might get a moment’s peace.
Ray unlocked the door, then glanced up and down the empty corridor before stepping inside. He flicked the light on, dragged Chris into the small room by the front of his shirt and firmly locked the door behind them.
“Wha’?” Chris started, then found himself pushed backward against the racking. He almost stumbled, catching himself by grabbing onto the edge of a shelf and half-leaning against a large stack of paper. Ray’s mouth sealed over his own and Chris immediately gave in, opening his mouth and closing his eyes. Ray began undoing Chris’s shirt, almost ripping it open, then trailed his lips around Chris’s jaw to his ear. Ray sucked on the lobe before biting it gently and moving on to Chris’s neck. By the time all the shirt buttons were undone Ray was licking down Chris’s chest, biting his nipples before gently soothing them with the flat of his tongue. Chris didn’t even notice his belt, button and flies were undone until his trousers slid down his thighs. His pants followed and suddenly Ray’s mouth was a warm wet haven around his cock. Chros groaned, completely trapped, knowing that if he let go of the racking with either hand he’d fall over, and Ray seemed to be pinning his thighs against the reams of paper. Ray sucked and licked Chris’s cock, from root to tip, one hand playing with Chris’s bollocks, the other reaching around and gripping one of his bum cheeks. Chris gasped as Ray’s tongue slid under the head of his now rock-hard dick and he couldn’t help but thrust his entire length into Ray’s mouth, setting up a perfect rhythm.
Then, all too suddenly, his orgasm was upon him and he bit his lip, clenched his fists and shuddered as he came, trying not to make a noise. He thrust himself as far into Ray’s mouth as he could, feeling Ray swallow as he blasted cum deep into his mouth. His knees were weak, his arms shaking, and suddenly Ray was standing in front of him again, leaning forward for a kiss.
Chris kissed back automatically, still panting, his mind racing to catch up with exactly what had just happened. He tasted himself on Ray for a brief moment before the other man turned away.
Ray unlocked the door, pulled the key from the lock and threw it over his shoulder.
“Lock up when you’re done,” he called back over his shoulder before leaving the cupboard, pulling the door half closed behind him.
Reality hit Chris with a rush. He was in the stationary cupboard. With the door open. And his trousers and underwear was around his knees, his wet cock softening against his thigh. Mostly naked. And he was in the stationary cupboard. With the door open. Half naked. In the stationary cupboard. In CID. And the door was open. He jumped, trying to stand upright, pull his trousers up, turn around and do up his shirt all at once. He almost ended up in a heap on the floor, hopping around as his trousers tried to kill him, all too aware that his arse was out for anyone who happened to walk in the door to see.
He shoved his half-done-up shirt into his waistband, fumbling with his belt buckle and looking around for where the key had landed.
Finally he almost fell into the corridor, locking the cupboard behind him and glancing around.
He scuttled back toward the CID office, sure that everyone would know exactly what he’d been up to. And where had Ray disappeared to?
He pushed the door open to see Hunt standing in the middle of the room. The DCI looked Chris up and down. “Ain’t you got enough work on, Christopher? What you been doing? Wankin’ in the bogs again?”
Chris felt himself flush bright red and shot a look at Ray, who was looking completely calm and collected, sitting up, back straight, tapping away on his typewriter, cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
“N…no, Guv,” Chris answered, unable to meet his superior’s gaze.
“Get on with yer work then.” Gene ordered. “Ray, keep an eye on ‘im, crack the whip.”
Ray looked up with a perfectly schooled look of surprise on his face. “’Course, Guv. Wilco. I’ll make sure he keeps ‘is head down.”
Chris almost choked, wondering how he’d managed to get himself from contentedly minding his own business and getting on with paperwork to being sucked off and told off in under ten minutes. He sat at his desk, head down, feeling the heat radiating from his skin and totally convinced that everyone must know exactly what it was he’d been doing. Or having done to him, at any rate. He picked up his pen again, noticing that his hand was still trembling slightly.
Gene harrumphed and headed back into his own office. Chris almost breathed a sigh of relief, trying to make the words on the page in front of him make sense, sure that his heart was still beating at twice its normal rate.
Then a small piece of screwed up paper hit him on the shoulder and rolled across his desk.
~Fin