An Average Day - Being Human - George/Mitchell
Title: An Average Day
Pairing: George/Mitchell
Word Count: 524
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Office AU written for comment_fic's AU day.
Summary: George hoped that no one headed back to the office after hours: he really didn't want to have to explain why he'd allowed their secretary to bend him over his desk like this.
"Is this," George panted breathlessly, "really the best place for this?"
He was bent clean over the desk in his office. Admittedly, it was after-hours and most sane people would have gone home by now but there was always the faintest chance that someone else might pop in to pick up something they'd forgotten and George would really have preferred not to have to explain to Seth from accounting why exactly he was allowing their secretary to make extreme misuse of office property by fucking him on his desk.
Mitchell breathed against the back of his neck, running cold fingers over George's bare ass. "Yes. I really think it is. You worry too much, George." His fingers pressed inside, aided along with lube (and George didn't even want to ask why he'd been bringing that to work with him, as he was absolutely certain that the answer would make him more convinced than ever that his boyfriend was utterly mad) and carried on speaking as if he hadn't done anything at all. "Otherwise we'd have to wait for the entire way home before we could do this, and Annie would probably distract us the second we got in the door. This is much better, isn't it?"
With Mitchell's fingers easing him open, George could only make a vague sound of pleasured agreement. His forehead rested against the printouts of very important figures that were scattered over his desk. He'd have to ask Lauren to print another copy for him tomorrow morning and she was bound to act as if he was an idiot again and he really wasn't looking forward to that exchange but-
"George," Mitchell said. He was smiling, laughing. God, he could be such a git sometimes. "Are you paying attention?"
"What?" George spluttered. "You have your fingers up my-" He made a vague sound and waved his hand, heard Mitchell laughing at him again, and sighed. "- my arse," he finished quietly. "Of course I'm paying attention."
"Good. Just thought I'd check." Mitchell leaned down to kiss George's shoulder through the white material of the shirt he was still wearing. George's tie draped down to brush over the papers and reports on his desk with every faint movement on his body and his trousers were pooled around his ankle, probably gathering terrible creases. "Because George?"
"Yes?"
"This is not the kind of meeting you get to fall asleep in." Mitchell laughed, and bit George's shoulder gently (and Mitchell was never going to let him forget that, was he? It had been one meeting. One meeting, over two months ago, and the speaker had been so boring that it was hardly George's fault he'd dozed off) before George felt the blunt, slick force of his cock pressed against his entrance.
"Don't worry," he answered, ragged and breathless as he waited. "You have my full attention."
Mitchell made a gentle sound of assent before he pushed inside and George had to smother a yell at the feel of the invasion. Mitchell was going to be the death of him, he was sure of that - always dragging him down into mischief and delicious sin.
Pairing: George/Mitchell
Word Count: 524
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Office AU written for comment_fic's AU day.
Summary: George hoped that no one headed back to the office after hours: he really didn't want to have to explain why he'd allowed their secretary to bend him over his desk like this.
"Is this," George panted breathlessly, "really the best place for this?"
He was bent clean over the desk in his office. Admittedly, it was after-hours and most sane people would have gone home by now but there was always the faintest chance that someone else might pop in to pick up something they'd forgotten and George would really have preferred not to have to explain to Seth from accounting why exactly he was allowing their secretary to make extreme misuse of office property by fucking him on his desk.
Mitchell breathed against the back of his neck, running cold fingers over George's bare ass. "Yes. I really think it is. You worry too much, George." His fingers pressed inside, aided along with lube (and George didn't even want to ask why he'd been bringing that to work with him, as he was absolutely certain that the answer would make him more convinced than ever that his boyfriend was utterly mad) and carried on speaking as if he hadn't done anything at all. "Otherwise we'd have to wait for the entire way home before we could do this, and Annie would probably distract us the second we got in the door. This is much better, isn't it?"
With Mitchell's fingers easing him open, George could only make a vague sound of pleasured agreement. His forehead rested against the printouts of very important figures that were scattered over his desk. He'd have to ask Lauren to print another copy for him tomorrow morning and she was bound to act as if he was an idiot again and he really wasn't looking forward to that exchange but-
"George," Mitchell said. He was smiling, laughing. God, he could be such a git sometimes. "Are you paying attention?"
"What?" George spluttered. "You have your fingers up my-" He made a vague sound and waved his hand, heard Mitchell laughing at him again, and sighed. "- my arse," he finished quietly. "Of course I'm paying attention."
"Good. Just thought I'd check." Mitchell leaned down to kiss George's shoulder through the white material of the shirt he was still wearing. George's tie draped down to brush over the papers and reports on his desk with every faint movement on his body and his trousers were pooled around his ankle, probably gathering terrible creases. "Because George?"
"Yes?"
"This is not the kind of meeting you get to fall asleep in." Mitchell laughed, and bit George's shoulder gently (and Mitchell was never going to let him forget that, was he? It had been one meeting. One meeting, over two months ago, and the speaker had been so boring that it was hardly George's fault he'd dozed off) before George felt the blunt, slick force of his cock pressed against his entrance.
"Don't worry," he answered, ragged and breathless as he waited. "You have my full attention."
Mitchell made a gentle sound of assent before he pushed inside and George had to smother a yell at the feel of the invasion. Mitchell was going to be the death of him, he was sure of that - always dragging him down into mischief and delicious sin.