Pairings: Athos(/Porthos) voyeurism/wank!fic
Rating: 15 (this part)
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."
"So you'll have those figures for me by three?"
"What? Oh, yes. Definitely. Sure." Athos straightened up from his customary slouch, doing his best to look like a man in control of the situation and not one who had been miles away, having happily inappropriate daydreams about the man standing next to him in the lift.
"Hmmn." Porthos gave him a dubious look, and Athos raised his eyebrows.
"What? I've said you'll have them, and you will," Athos protested, as the lift pinged and the doors slid open.
"Three o'clock. On my desk," Porthos reminded him, stepping out of the lift and turning to give Athos what he hoped was an authoritative stare.
The doors closed, and Athos slumped back against the lift car wall with a sigh. "On your desk, in the stationery cupboard, over the photocopier - you name it," Athos muttered to himself, running a hand over his face and groaning. "Jesus man, get a fucking grip."
Trouble was, he'd quite like to get a grip on Porthos. The man was the definition of tall, dark and handsome, and if a fortune teller had promised Athos something like that in his future he'd have developed a whole new interest in palmistry.
The lift pinged for his floor and he cleared his throat, adjusting his trousers and wishing he hadn't left his suit jacket hanging over the back of his chair.
Lusting over someone you worked with was a bad idea he told himself sternly, lifting a file off a nearby desk and holding it casually in front of him as he negotiated the outer office. Lusting over your boss was probably suicidal.
With some relief Athos achieved the sanctuary of his office without anyone noticing the fact he had a massive erection and either hitting him with a pot plant or calling the police. He sank down into his chair and sighed, poking the folder already lying on his desk with a desultory finger.
It was the set of figures Porthos had asked for, completed, printed, checked and triple checked that morning. There was nothing stopping him taking them up to him right now. Porthos would be pleased. Maybe smile at him. Except then Athos would feel like a creep, and Porthos would also give him something else to do, so three o clock it was. That did leave him at rather a loose end though.
Athos swung idly to and fro in his chair, trying to resist the urge to give his nagging erection any attention. Getting caught having a wank at work probably wouldn't do wonders for his career.
He unlocked his computer screen and checked his email in an attempt to distract himself. One all-users circular about a new waste management policy, which in the spirit of implementation he deleted without reading. A dirty joke forwarded by d'Artagnan in accounts, that Athos figured had probably been doing the rounds since d'Artagnan was in nappies, but that made him smile anyway. And an email from his flatmate Aramis saying he was bringing a new girlfriend home tonight, which reading between the lines meant could Athos please stay out of the way.
Athos sighed again. Was everyone getting laid but him? He was fairly sure d'Artagnan was having an affair with Constance from marketing. He wondered if Porthos had a partner. He didn't wear a ring, but that didn't mean anything.
Thinking of Porthos again made his cock twitch, and he slid his hand into his trouser pocket. He was just adjusting himself, that was all. It wasn't the same thing as touching yourself. At all.
His fingers rubbed against the thick line of his erection and Athos bit his lip, shooting a glance at the door. It was firmly shut, although didn't have a lock. There was a glass panel beside the door that looked out into a reception space before you got to the main office, but the blinds were drawn, and he was fairly sure no-one could see in.
The sensible thing to do would be to go to the men's room and lock himself in a cubicle. If jerking off at work could be called sensible in any way, shape or form. But that seemed somehow seedy, not to mention uncomfortable. He leaned back in his chair, stroking himself with his fingertips through the lining of his trousers, and imagined Porthos bending him over the conference table.
On the floor above, Porthos had reached his own office and immediately found in his in-tray a report that judging by the date had been caught in the circular hell of the internal mail system for days, and that should have gone direct to Athos. He weighed it in his hand, considering.
He could ask his secretary to scan it and email it down to Athos. Except he hadn't been in the job long, wasn't used to having a secretary, and was still too embarrassed to ask her to do anything that seemed remotely menial. He could do it himself, except he didn't know how the scanner worked. Or he could just take it down, which would probably be quicker.
Porthos was conflicted. On one hand, Athos needed the data, or the results of his own report would be invalid. On the other, Athos made him slightly nervous and he wasn't sure why. Possibly it was a slight lingering sense of guilt, in that Athos was older than him, had been here longer, and had almost certainly been in line for the job Porthos had walked off with. Porthos also harboured a suspicion that Athos might be better at his job than him, although he seemed to spend most of his time hiding that fact.
Or maybe it was the way Athos always looked like he knew something you didn't. Not that he was laughing at you exactly, but that he was one step ahead and not telling.
Porthos set his shoulders and told himself not to be ridiculous. Athos had never been anything but pleasant to him, and it was doing him a disservice to think otherwise.
He took the back stairs and made his way through the outer office at a confident pace. It was still half-deserted with people out at lunch, and he reached the ante-room to Athos' office without speaking to anyone he knew.
Once there Porthos hesitated, instinctively checking his appearance in the reflection of the office window, and wondering why it should matter that he looked his best. While he was there, he peered between the slats of the blind to check if Athos was actually inside, wondering whether he could just leave the report on his desk and sneak off again.
Athos was definitely in residence, Porthos could see him sprawled in his chair. He thought for a second that Athos was on the phone because he was idly swivelling back and forth, but then he looked closer and realised with a shock that Athos' hand certainly wasn't anywhere near the receiver.