There was a quick rap at the door. Through the open blinds of Gregory's window looking out to the office , he could see Christophe standing beside Rebecca's vacant reception desk and gestured him inside.
"Are you busy?" he asked, stepping into the room and promptly closing the door behind him.
Returning his attention to his work, Gregory replied, "Yes. What do you need?"
Christophe ignored the question and leaned on one of the two leather armchairs in front of Gregory's desk. He clicked his tongue. "You do know everyone else has gone home, right?"
"Yes, Christophe, I am very aware. What do you need?" he repeated, shooting the man a glare. The irritation in his voice was about as subtle as a knife.
"I guess it can wait a couple minutes," he shrugged, nonchalant. "Find a stopping point." Gregory held his gaze a moment—he was not in the goddamn mood to play his little game, thank you very much—and frowned but quickly went back to typing.
The brunet sauntered over to one of the large bookcases behind Gregory's desk. He admired the many certificates and awards that were displayed along with collections of John Grisham books. A small number of framed photos littered the shelves—his parents, a study group of familiar faces cramped together in a college dorm, the dean of students shaking his hand at graduation. One picture in particular was of Gregory, taken only a few years ago, kneeling beside a handsome, poised Doberman. While he resented these creatures (and was tiring of Gregory's attempts to make him overcome his "distaste") Christophe had always been rather fond of this photograph. It was one of the few pictures in which he was smiling candid and unreserved; so unlike the ones of him at formal events or in the newspapers. Those that knew him personally knew there was a stark difference between a charismatic upturn of lips and an honest-to-God smile.
He glanced over his shoulder to see Gregory still immersed in his work, then moved on to the adjacent bookshelf that was packed tight with reference books: encyclopedias, legal dictionaries, college law textbooks. He thumbed over the wide spine of a corporate law text before pulling it out from its place on the shelf to flip through the pages. Many sentences—and often whole paragraphs—were highlighted in an assortment of colors. Notes written on Post-its in scrawl so atrocious it could give a doctor a run for his money were scattered throughout the tome as well.
The room was mostly silent as Christophe tried to decipher the legal jargon of the book, except for the sound of Gregory's fingers dancing over the pads of his keyboard. He was entirely fixated on his work; he even mumbled to himself. When Christophe noticed the man wasn't planning on stopping willfully, he tried plan B. He moved to the blond's back to card his hands through soft gold hair. He kneaded his knuckles gently into Gregory's neck and shoulders, occasionally slipping his palms over Gregory's chest before moving back to his shoulder blades, digging his knuckles deep into the crease of his spine. Gregory halted his typing for a moment to take a deep breath and Christophe just knew those brown eyes were slipping closed. Though he went back to writing, his head tilted and his shoulders rolled to direct Christophe where he should apply more pressure—as if Christophe couldn't feel the tension himself.
This time, Gregory saved his work and leaned back in his seat. His head fell against the headrest of the chair so he could look up at the brunet. "Okay," he sighed in mock surrender, "what do you want?" He was, quite obviously, annoyed. Christophe smiled down at him regardless, simply happy the bastard was giving in.
"I think," Christophe started, twirling a lock of yellow hair around one of his fingers, "it's more what you need." Gregory rolled his eyes and leaned forward to return to his work, but Christophe forced him back, a firm grip on his shoulders. "How about a break?" he asked, leaning down closer, his lips hovering beside Gregory's temple. He—of course—tried to refuse, making up any excuse. "Just twenty minutes," Christophe pressed. Then he added, whispering seductively in Gregory's ear, "Maybe I'll give you ... a surprise."
The man thought for a moment. "Just twenty minutes," he finally agreed. "Then I have to get back to—"
"I know, I know, the fucking Tenorman case. Don't act like I'm not doing most of your research," Christophe quipped, walking over to the bar to pour them both a generous glass of whiskey. He passed one to Gregory and sat on the edge of the desk, watching the blond with a devious glint in his eye. "But, I really don't want to have this argument with you again." He changed the conversation and they chatted lightly while they drank, their knees brushing now and then. Christophe was sure to keep the subject away from work—politics, talk circulating around the office, the new BMW. He even asked about the dog; successful albeit suspicious.
Despite this, Gregory was clearly keeping an eye on the clock.
This time, it was Christophe's turn to roll his eyes and he set his glass down on a teetering pile of papers, then did the same with Gregory's. Before the blond could start protesting or asking questions, Christophe reached for his tie and pulled him up from his chair, bringing their lips together.
Gregory moaned as Christophe's tongue slid over his lip, his hands falling to the Frenchman's hips. Teeth sunk mercilessly into his bottom lip and he half gasped, half moaned in shocked pleasure. Christophe took the opportunity to delve his tongue into his lover's mouth and attack with abandon, earning another encouraging whine from the attorney.
When they broke away, their lips were only inches apart as they tried to catch their breath. "You've been working yourself too hard, salope," Christophe growled. The blond's leg had slid its way up Christophe's leg, his knee resting on the edge of the desk to better rut their bodies together. The brunet could feel the burn of arousal growing in both his and Gregory's groins and he grinned. The anticipation alone made him grit his teeth.
"Is this what you consider a surprise?" Gregory laughed. The brunet nipped a sensitive spot behind his ear and heat surged through his body, settling in his belly. His hands roamed over Christophe's shoulders and down his clothed torso, wishing the Frenchman's shirt wasn't tucked in so that he may dip his hands underneath the fabric and touch that sculpted body hidden beneath. Christophe shuddered when skilled hands instead slid over his neck and threaded in his hair.
Rather than replying, Christophe pressed against the growing bulge in Gregory's pants. Without warning he grasped the man's shoulders and pushed him back into the chair, settling on the floor between Gregory's spread legs. The blond sighed happily when an enthusiastic hand again rubbed over his confined arousal. Soon, Christophe's palm was replaced by his mouth.
Zealous, Christophe mouthed him over the clothing and stroked Gregory's thighs. Gregory was fiddling with his trousers to unbutton them. Christophe shooed him away and unfastened them himself, easily sliding both the trousers and underwear down enough to reveal just a glance of the blond's swollen cock. He untucked the white designer, perfectly fitted button up and pushed it above Gregory's navel, placing butterfly kisses along the newly exposed flesh. There was the faintest hint of Ralph Lauren cologne (Christophe's favorite for that matter—how fortunate) on the fabric that made Christophe's body pulse with desire. He held it back—this wasn't about him after all.
The brunet smiled and kissed his lover's hip before pulling the rest of the bindings away. Gregory hissed as a tongue flicked over his head then trailed the length of the underside of his cock from root to tip. He squirmed and whined at the teasing, his fingers tangling into dark hair. Christophe took him partly into his mouth and looked up through his lashes to see Gregory squeeze his eyes shut and moan his name, followed by a slew of beautiful God-damning obscenities. Grinning, he laced his own fingers through course, curly gold hair then took him whole in his mouth, earning yet another gasp of appreciation and a harsh tug of his hair.
Gregory all but melted in his chair and any thoughts of Scott Tenorman's defense trial was entirely out of mind. When the brunet skimmed his teeth ever so slightly across his skin, a shudder ran through his entire body. He couldn't have contained the moan if he wanted to and quickly covered his mouth with his hand.
Countless minutes passed until Gregory jerked his hands away and cursed. "It's Kyle," he hissed, quickly smoothing his shirt and hair to appear presentable. Christophe frowned when Gregory forced him away, pushing him down below the desk to hide his ... objectionable position; Christophe fit perfectly underneath, safely hidden behind the solid mahogany. He settled for massaging Gregory's thighs, only his hot breath caressing the blond's strained erection.
There was a knock at the door and—after a steeling breath—Gregory called for him to enter.
"Ah," Kyle said, stepping in the doorway, "I see you're still here."
"Just finishing up." He leaned in closer to his desk and resisted writhing in his chair. Christophe may have had the decency to not suck him while he was speaking to his superior, but not, apparently, to stop stroking him.
The redhead didn't seem to notice. "I was just on my way out. I don't suppose you'd want to grab a drink with me? I heard about this new bar that opened up a few blocks away," he offered. "Maybe we can get you a date. How about it?"
Gregory cracked a smile, sensing a bit of irony, and said, "I don't think so. I still have a lot of work to do for this defense trial. Maybe some other time?"
He shook his head. "You're going to go stir crazy locked up in your office all the time. C'mon, Greg, just one drink."
If he wasn't already sure, being called 'Greg' certainly sealed the deal. "I'd really, really rather take a rain check."
"Alright, fair enough. You have a good weekend then." He turned to leave but wheeled back around to add, "And try to get some rest, will you? You look ill."
Christophe waited until he heard the door close to push Gregory's chair away and crawl out from under the desk. "Is ill how I would describe that expression?" he grinned.
"Oh, shut up," he barked. Christophe stretched up, wanting to suck at the blond's neck, but was pushed back down to his knees. He waited until Kyle disappeared around the corner for the elevators before allowing the brunet to drag his tongue over his neck and suck at his earlobe. Gregory, in turn, tugged at his hair. "Are you going to finish what you started or not?" Christophe bit his lip but couldn't hide his grin. "Then get back to it."
Happy to oblige, Christophe sunk to the floor and wrapped his lips back around Gregory's throbbing head. He took him completely into his mouth until he felt a brush at his throat, then was gone, pacing butterfly kisses along prominent hipbones. The brunet pumped his partner several times, the pad of his thumb sliding over Gregory's leaking head to spread the pearlescent fluid with every twist of his wrist. Then, his hand was replaced with his tongue and Gregory began to buck into Christophe's mouth. Gregory buried his fingers in Christophe's hair once again, forcing the brunet to keep his mouth around his cock so he could thrust with added ferocity. Not that Christophe wanted to be anywhere else.
The attorney was panting and moaning unabashedly, breathing the Frenchman's name and mumbling nonsense. Christophe could feel the other man pulse and his nails trailed over Gregory's waist, leaving burning red lines in their path, then cupped the blond's arse.
Once Gregory began to thrust wildly into Christophe's warm mouth, he knew the blond was close. He happily swallowed Gregory into his throat, curly hair tickling his nose. This time, when he pulled away, he allowed his teeth to scrape lightly over Gregory's sensitive member. His entire body tensed and shuddered as he came into Christophe's mouth with a cry of much needed completion.
Christophe gladly swallowed him down and sucked him dry—wouldn't want to dirty his new Armani—and reveled in the masculine taste. He continued his ministrations until the organ grew soft and waited until Gregory was completely spent to pull him down by his tie for a kiss. It started soft and sweet but quickly escalated to something intense and purposeful.
"Oh fuck, Christophe," Gregory sighed happily while the brunet tucked him back into his trousers and refastened the zipper and belt. Christophe rubbed his knuckles soothingly into Gregory's thighs, remaining on his knees. He enjoyed watching the blond laugh and run a lethargic hand through his hair, trying to gather himself again. It wasn't until Gregory started gathering paperwork into a briefcase that he stood up.
"Alright," he said finally, downing the rest of his drink and brushing a hand over Christophe's waist, "let's go home."
Author's Note: There was something I was supposed to be doing and I'm almost positive this wasn't it. (Oops?) But, oh well—office blowjobs because I said so.