Rating: Explicit
Notes: Written for the Bad Sex Fic Fest 2013.
Prompt: someone falls asleep while someone else is giving them a blowjob.
Spoilers: For the final episode of the series.
Warnings: bad sex
Disclaimer: This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly repost or redistribute without letting me know first. Transformative or derivative works welcome, but drop me a note about it!
"Oh, Boss…" Steven's entirely-too-happy voice came through the door as he knocked a couple times; "Please tell me you're indecent."
"Always." Jack groaned, his eyes halfway open as his sous opened the door. "What'd you do now?"
"What, I've got to be in some kind of trouble to pay a visit to my best friend – slash – head chef?"
Rolling his eyes, Jack forced himself to sit up from where he'd been napping on the office sofa and scratched his head. "You called me 'Boss' – how many cops am I gonna have to bribe?"
"No cops…" Steven replied in a hushed murmur, flopping onto the couch beside him. "Just… okay… maybe there's this little problem…"
"How little?"
"One or both of us could possibly be fired." He frowned; indicating that 'could possibly' was a little closer to 'most likely will' in this particular instance.
Jack groaned loudly, leaning his head back. "Who or what ended up in your pants?"
"Nothing like that… bloody perv…" Steven eyed him with a slight smile – not that he minded the assumption. "Just that I may have befriended a cheese vendor that was able to get his hands on a rather large amount of very reasonably priced six-week Belper Knolle that would make an absolutely perfect complement to this week's menu…"
"And in return for his friendship?" Jack turned his head toward him, raising an eyebrow.
"I may have gifted him with a few of the fresh red snapper…"
"Geeze… Mimi's gonna be pissed when she does inventory," Jack smirked no less. "What're you gonna tell her?"
"That's why I need you, Boss…" He stressed, forcing a smile. "She won't believe me if I tell her that I got about eighty dollars of cheese for fifty dollars of fish that you paid forty dollars for. I need you to tell her that you changed the order."
"She won't believe you because you lie… like all the time."
"I don't lie… all the time." He frowned; "I made a profitable executive decision, acting in my authority as your sous chef. If we don't push the fish so hard we can make something with this cheese that will win some kind of award – I guarantee it. It's an investment."
"If it's such an investment, you can explain it to the Princess. She's been on the warpath since we got that B+ review last month and I'd like to keep my balls." Jack waved a dismissive hand, but Steven wouldn't be swayed quite so easily.
"Fine. You're going to make me beg?" He sighed, "I'm prepared to offer, in exchange for you telling one little white lie about the origin of the very nice cheeses in our walk-in, my exquisite oral services. Right here, right now."
Laughing, Jack raised his eyebrows and managed to ask; "Am I hearing this right? Are you whoring yourself out over cheese?"
"One, it's not just cheese… it's six-week old Belper Knolle that's so creamy it's an orgasm in cheese form. Two, I'm merely offering to work it out in trade, you scratch my back and I scratch yours, mate. I will gladly lick your balls to have access to those beauties."
How Steven managed to keep a straight face was beyond Jack, he couldn't even hold back a sleepy giggle. It was only a lie… and only to Mimi who really kind of deserved it most of the time anyway. And it wasn't like it was the first time they'd fooled around, for favors or otherwise, even since starting Nolita.
"Please?" Steven said, resting a bold palm on Jack's thigh. "This will benefit both of us and you know it."
Jack wasn't sure if he meant the sex or the cheese, possibly both, but the response was the same either way. "Sure, what the hell."
It was the sort of furtive backroom arrangement they'd both been making for the majority of their careers and Steven was aware time and secrecy are of the essence. It was still far too early for kitchen staff to arrive, but Mimi had a way of rearing her poodle-like essence at the worst possible times. He locked the door and buttoned back the lapel of his white jacket, not entirely shocked to see Jack's trousers and shorts around his ankles when he turned back – the head chef already tucked back into the corner of the sofa. "Fast and hard or slow and equally hard?" He laughed, kneeling easily between Jack's feet.
"You know what I like…" Jack murmured, closing his eyes as the mild anticipation mingled with Thursday morning exhaustion.
Steven smirked all the wider when Jack raked his fingers through his hair – pulling him in closer to his crotch. "I recall one night you liked double penetration and fisting over the back of a dining room chair."
"Which is why I never trusted coke cut with MDMA again." Jack groaned, feeling the brush of Steven's lips against his thighs. Steven was a lot of things; arrogant, lying, thieving, deviant, drunken and above all hedonistic, but he knew how to push the right buttons and on a target as easy as Jack it was more like reflex memory than actual effort.
Slow and teasing was Jack's flavor last he'd checked, sometimes with a little extra naughtiness on top. "Pity, you were a great puppet."
Holding back a laugh, Jack dug out the half-smoked butt he'd started before his nap and lit it with a deep inhale before sighing; "You're an asshole."
In response, Steven licked slowly from base to tip – drawing him up partially hard with slow strokes. "You know I only bottom for favors much larger than this. Last time I swear you nearly killed me."
Jack knew it was partially ego stroking and partially truth – as far as he knew it took a lot of pull and a decent amount of drugs and alcohol to get him into that particular sort of mood, and for all he knew he'd been the first and maybe only guy that had… at least Steven had sure acted like he was. "You don't have to tell me how big it is, we're acquainted…" He laughed again, taking a shallow drag.
Swallowing a laugh, swallowing the semi-hard cock in his mouth, Steven let up with a pink-faced snort. "Shut your face, mate, or I'm not gonna be able to finish this."
With a wide grin, Jack braced his free hand against the back of Steven's head, gently guiding him as he relaxed back against the comfortable cushions. Shutting up he didn't mind, focusing on the gentle pleasure of the man's lips and tongue working over him as the arousal built slowly. "You just do what you do best…" he murmured as he finished the last puff of his cigarette and stubbed it out.
When Steven looked back up at him, gauging Jack's silence as either a very good thing or possibly a bad thing, the head chef let out a dull snore – his tongue poked out between his parted lips. "Just like a fat kitten that got the cream…" Steven snorted, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. For what it was worth, he'd leave an IOU but damned if he was going to put forth the effort of finishing him off when he'd fallen asleep in the act.
He pushed back up on his feet and looked down at Jack, cock still at full attention with his pants around his ankles. "Oh I shouldn't…" he whispered, already taking the phone out of his pocket. "I really… really shouldn't…"
Not that it had ever stopped him before. He'd take anything he could get to puncture a hole in the horror of Jack's trysts with the traitor – he still didn't have in him to view Becky Sharp as anything but a cockblock in every possible sense regardless of her maybe saving their asses for the Epicure - including a snapshot of himself on his knees up close and personal with the boss' business captioned; 'The Side of Jack Bourdain you've never seen.'
