MONDAY’S T SHIRT
By fancyfigures
1x2x1, NC17
For Sera – because your Duo Maxwell *does*!



“Monday morning,” said Duo, strolling around the opening to Heero’s cubicle. “The whole week ahead of us. I told Sera to hold my calls, that I was taking lunch with you.”

Two receptionists wandered along the corridor with a quick glance at the two men talking. Heero heard the horrified gasp as it echoed up the corridor with their hurrying footsteps. He didn’t even bother looking up from his keyboard, but the back of his neck felt clammy. “Duo. So what are you wearing?”

He heard the muffled laughter as if it were directly in his ear – which, in fact, Duo’s mouth now was. “I’m perfectly decent, lover. Unlike 5:34am this morning. Which was when you said we didn’t have time for another mouthful; I had to wipe myself down, throw on some clothes and get ready for work …”

“They’re on their way to get the manager, you know. You must stop provoking the other staff.” Heero sighed and spun his chair around. He was prepared for a lot of things, but maybe not entirely for a grinning Duo, stepping back with hands held up as if totally innocent, and a lurid slogan across his t-shirt.

Sorry girls, I suck dick.

Heero flushed. His pants tightened. It wasn’t just a slogan, it was a reference. And – he very much hoped – a mission statement.

“Lunch?” Duo’s eyebrows raised in query. His grin got broader and he licked his lips. “Now?”

Heero coughed. His telephone hadn’t stopped ringing all morning. He was expected for an appraisal any time in the next ten minutes. The cubicle was open to the corridor.

“Oh yes,” he murmured.

They moved quickly and with familiarity, pushing the filing cabinet across the cubicle opening to obscure the view from the elevators. Duo reached to flip the phone on to voicemail; Heero turned his chair so that his back faced anybody passing outside. Then Duo dropped to his knees in front of Heero and unzipped the other man’s pants. He steadied himself against the overhanging desk, dislodging some paperclips and assorted pens. The keyboard rattled off some nonsense as his grasping fingers skimmed over it.

“Quick,” hissed Heero. “Not everyone’s on lunch break.”

Duo savoured the delight of fresh, hungry saliva in his mouth for no more than a second, then he slid his lips over Heero’s dick. He looked up through lust-dark eyes, licking over the crown, feeling it throb against his tongue. Heero groaned and his head went back. He gripped the sides of his chair, the castors squeaking slightly under pressure. “Fuck,” he sighed.

Duo sucked enthusiastically, his grip somewhere between playfulness and greed. His palm cupped Heero’s balls through the fabric of his boxers; his little finger tugged at a stray, sweaty curl escaping from the waistband. In the background an elevator bell chimed a few times; there was the gurgle of the fresh-brew coffee machine. A voice laughed; another couple started to argue aimlessly.

“Now… “ muttered Heero, as if he were merely addressing a negative in last month’s budgeted expenditure. But his eyes rolled and his thighs were tensing up. Duo knew the underlying signals too well to be deceived. Heero came suddenly, hard, gasping, grabbing at Duo’s hair and lurching forward over the crouching man, his belly shaking.

Duo let the softening cock slip gently out of his mouth. He smacked his lips with satisfaction and got to his feet. He smoothed down his tee shirt rather proudly.

Heero groaned. The reflection in his blank screen showed a very wild-eyed, dishevelled employee. “Damned shirt. It’s not appropriate for work, you know.”

“You bought it for me,” murmured Duo.

Heero grinned, a sharp, rare, wicked smile that would surely have shocked other colleagues. He tapped the screen back on and paused. “Did you shut down that draft mail to the boss?”

Duo shrugged. He’d only accidentally brushed the keyboard, going down on Heero so swiftly. It wouldn’t have been proper script. Wouldn’t have been anything legible – anything obscene. Would it?

He turned quickly, moving back out into the corridor. He was well on his way to the men’s room and an appraisal with his own hand when Heero’s protest hit its highest pitch.

To Tuesday! www.fancyfigures.com/TUESDAY.htm