Pairings: Athos(/Porthos) voyeurism/wank!fic
Summary: For evilmaniclaugh. "Modern AU. Athos is bored in his office and decides to have a wank. He has no idea his boss, Porthos is watching."
Athos had quickly decided that interfering with himself through his suit just wasn't cutting it. He unsnapped the button of his fly and drew the zip down slowly, wincing as if the people in the outside office might somehow catch the noise.
His cock was pushing out the material of his underpants, and Athos let his hand stroke over the cotton, enjoying the sensation. This was much better.
After a moment, made bold by the fact nobody had, or was likely to interrupt him, Athos slipped his fingers under the waistband and cupped himself with a quiet murmur of guilty pleasure. He ran his hand up the length of his cock, growing harder under the touch.
Outside, Porthos blinked, convinced for a second that he'd seen wrong, that Athos was just scratching his balls or something. But no, the longer he stared, the plainer it became. Athos was sitting there in his office with his hand down the front of his trousers and his eyes closed.
Porthos' first reaction was one of indignant anger. How dare Athos behave like this at work? To have the bare-faced cheek to sit there and jerk off on company time? It was inconceivable. It was unforgivable. It was, ultimately, unhygienic.
Athos deserved to be sacked on the spot. Except - to walk in now would be to admit he'd been watching, and how would that look?
As Porthos dithered, Athos came to a stop with his chair directly facing Porthos, parted his legs a little wider and drew his cock right out of his trousers.
Porthos swallowed. For the first time he had a full view of Athos' erection and experienced a guilty shiver of arousal.
Athos, oblivious to his audience, stroked himself lazily. A bead of pre-come formed on the tip of his cock and he swiped his thumb through it, drawing it down the shaft and enjoying the sensation of wet fingers against his skin.
He tried to imagine Porthos with no clothes on, wondering if his dick was in proportion to the rest of him. Athos had a happy fantasy going on that he returned to in idle moments, of Porthos making him stay late then cornering him in some quiet corner of the office, and abusing his position in every sense of the word.
Athos groaned deep in his throat, picturing Porthos forcing him to suck him off. He was jerking himself harder now, wanting to come. He scrabbled with one hand for the tissues on his desk, knocking several things over in the process, knowing he was close.
Outside, Porthos was caught in a dilemma. He'd waited entirely too long to confront Athos, had lost the moral high ground several minutes back - specifically, at the point he'd developed an erection of his own. On the other hand he could hardly leave either, people had seen him come in here and might mention it to Athos. Worse, they might notice the state of him as he walked past.
Athos' head was thrown back, and Porthos experienced the sudden urge to lick his way up that strip of exposed neck. He absent-mindedly rubbed his palm over his groin, unable to look away from Athos who was clearly close to orgasm.
In the next confused moment two things happened. In the room beyond, Athos bent forward over his lap with a muffled groan, spending his release into a crushed fistful of tissues. And at the same time Porthos caught from the office behind him the voice of Treville, the company director, asking someone whether Athos was in.
Porthos froze. If Treville discovered Athos in this state, he'd fire him. Forgetting that a couple of minutes ago Porthos had been considering exactly the same thing, he felt defensive and indignant, both of which were mingled with blind panic.
What he should have done was knock on the door to give Athos a few seconds to compose himself. What he did in practice was to seize the door handle and burst into Athos' office without warning.
Athos jumped like he'd been shot, slamming bolt upright and hastily sliding his chair forward so his lap and hands were hidden by the desk.
For a frozen second they stared at each other. "I - brought you this report," Porthos said awkwardly, dropping the stapled pages in front of Athos. They were creased, and Porthos realised with some embarrassment that he'd been gripping them rather fiercely in his hand. That was nothing, however, compared to the embarrassment of a moment later as Athos' gaze dropped to Porthos' crotch, and his eyebrows went up.
Treville's voice was getting closer, and Porthos realised with a sinking feeling of unfairness that he would be the one caught standing over his subordinate with a threatening looking erection.
Something slapped his hand and he looked down. Athos was holding out a folder, his eyes fixed on the door, and with a split second to spare Porthos caught on and grabbed it. He was holding it innocently in front of his crotch when Treville came in.
Treville nodded briskly to them both. "Athos. I won't keep you, I can see Porthos is keeping you busy. Just wanted to say good work on the Louvre report. That evidence made all the difference, and I wanted to pop by in person to say so."
"Thank you sir," Athos managed, hoping his flustered expression would be taken for embarrassment at the compliment, and also praying that Treville didn’t want to shake hands. He could see a wet smear on the folder he'd handed to Porthos, and was trying not to stare at it. "It was my pleasure."
To their relief, after a few more pleasantries Treville left again and they looked at each other rather warily. Porthos cleared his throat.
"I - thought you might need those figures," he said, nodding at the pages on Athos' desk. "For your report. It just came in. Seems to be quite key data." Wishing the ground would open up and swallow him because Athos was looking at him like he was mad.
"I've had them," Athos said finally. "D'Artagnan emailed them to me a couple of days ago. I guess this is just a copy for your file."
"Oh. Right." Porthos was wrongfooted, and hideously aware that it now looked like he'd made up a spurious excuse to come down here. No wonder Athos was looking at him oddly. Or - oh yeah, that might have something to do with the fact he'd burst into his office with a raging hard-on.
"That's, um, the finished report there," Athos said, pointing automatically at the folder in Porthos' hand, then hastily hiding his hand under the table again. "All done. I was going to bring it up for you." He winced at his choice of words, whilst trying to surreptitiously zip up his fly under the table.
Porthos nodded. "Right. Thanks. I'll, er - be getting back then."
They stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment and then Porthos rediscovered the use of his legs and fled the office as fast as he could without losing the last shreds of his dignity.
When he'd gone, Athos bent over and banged his head on the desk a few times until his forehead hurt.
"Fuck. Fucking - fuck." He quickly cleaned himself up and disposed of the evidence in the bin. Porthos had to have known what he'd been doing. Why hadn't he said anything?
Now the immediate worry of being dismissed on the spot had passed, Athos had a moment to properly consider the fact that Porthos had been unmistakeably aroused, and what that might mean. Had he been watching him then? Athos was fairly sure Porthos didn't make a habit of prowling the corridors in a state of high excitement. He'd have noticed, for one thing.
He got up and peered at the window blinds, realising with some embarrassment that up close you could see through a lot more clearly than he'd thought.
Wondered what would happen now. Whether he'd find a disciplinary letter in the next post, or whether Porthos would be all too glad to never mention it again. Either way it hadn't exactly gone according to his fantasies.
Athos sighed. If he'd only known Porthos was going to burst in like that, he could have been a lot more welcoming.
Upstairs, Porthos was staring at the smeared thumbprint on the manila folder and resisting the urge to press his own finger to it. He felt hot and uncomfortable, and wanted nothing more than to be at home right now so he could jerk himself off as hard and as fast as he needed to. At least Athos had got to come he thought, and started laughing weakly.
The next few hours dragged with a painful tedium, and when it was finally time to go home Porthos, normally the last to leave, was the first in the lift.
The doors opened on the floor below, and Porthos found with a shock that he was staring at Athos.
Athos looked just as startled as Porthos felt, and for a second clearly considered stepping back and letting the lift go. Eventually though he took a deep breath and walked in.
They descended a couple of floors in silence, staring resolutely in front of them. There were others in the lift in any case, but they were minutely aware of the other's presence.
When the doors opened on the ground floor, Porthos made himself turn and look at Athos.
"Night," he muttered, a fixed smile on his face.
"Yeah, night." Athos raised a hand in farewell, and watched him walk out the exit, frowning in thought. Then sighed, and started running after him.
"Going to get myself fucking fired," he muttered, pushing out of the doors. "Porthos!"
Halfway down the steps, Porthos turned and looked back. Athos walked over, pushing a hand through his hair and wishing he was better at this sort of thing.
"I, er. Was wondering. If you. Um. Thing is, I'm kind've banned from my flat tonight, and I wondered if you - " he hesitated, mentally head slapping himself in frustration, and taking a steadying breath. "Did you fancy going for a drink?"