Cheap Whiskey from the Corner Shop- Part 1
Grey was in a pub in the middle of Camden with a couple of old uni friends when the sudden urge to see Malcolm flared up out of nowhere. She wanted to put it down to the vodka or being surrounded by the type of men she’d have been offering to buy drinks for by now normally. Only she wasn’t interested. She hadn’t been interested in anyone since she’d left DoSAC. She’d tried. She really had. She’d met guys in clubs and talked to them, some of them were interesting enough, pretty too, but her mind always seemed to wander. She’d realise she’d just stopped listening and was thinking about the way Malcolm used to storm into the office shouting obscenities, or how he looked reclined in his chair late at night in his office and she’d realise she was wasting her time. She didn’t want anyone else, hadn’t since she’d realised how incredibly impressive Malcolm was. Why was she even bothering?
“I need to be somewhere,” she said, gulping down her drink, sounding slightly confused.
Her two friends looked at each other.
“Nightclub full of pissed up pretty boys?”
If only.
“Actually there’s someone I really need to see. Sorry,” she stood up and frowned as they looked at her like she’d lost her mind, which was probably a fair assessment of the situation..
“It’s 11 o’clock, you can’t just go and see someone at this time of night, what are you on?”
“No, no it’s fine. He’ll be up.” 11 was early for Malcolm, she knew that from experience. He might not even be back from Downing Street yet. God she might just end up waiting on his doorstep, which was far too pathetic for her to even think about.
“He?”
Grey winced. “Look I’m really sorry, I’m an utterly fucking shit mate, but…” she shook her head. “You can take the piss tomorrow, yeah? Mercilessly and for the rest of my life. See you later.” She paused and pulled a fiver out of her pocket, handing it over. “to cover my part of the taxi.”
“Like you’re not gonna end up in Proud?” one pointed out.
“If it goes tits up I’ll just go home,” she shrugged, turning to leave. Or maybe they were right. Maybe she’d need something to distract her if Malcolm told her to fuck off, which was always possible, especially if he was busy.
Realising it was too late now, that she was here, Grey knocked on Malcolm’s door and waited, clutching the bottle of whiskey she’d brought on the way through the carrier bag like it was a safety blanket.
A slightly dishevelled Malcolm opened the door, the top two buttons of his pale blue shirt undone, the shirt itself untucked. It was only then that Grey realised he wouldn’t necessarily be alone. Why would he be? Had she really thought she was the only woman in the world that could possibly fancy him? He was good looking, he could even be charming sometimes. The thing was she liked him when he wasn’t being charming, when he was a whirlwind of anger and creatively used expletives. It was Malcolm fucking Tucker she liked - the man that had ministers cowering in fear.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” she said.
Malcolm blinked at her as if he wasn’t sure if she was real or not. It must have been almost a year since he’d seen her in person, and now here she was on his doorstep at almost midnight on a Friday night? That was pretty fucking weird even for her.
“Hmmm?” he said, remembering he’d still got them on. “Oh, oh yeah.”
He looked impossibly sexy slightly bleary eyed. The glasses really suited him, it was a shame he hadn’t worn them when she’d been working for him at Downing Street, though probably for the best all things considered. She’d already had way too many fantasies about him while they’d been working together.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked, practically holding her breath as she waited for his answer.
“No, no. Not really,” he replied, frowning at her. “Grey, not that it’s not lovely to see you or anything but…what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I was just passing?” she offered.
“Grey.”
“Can I come in?” She shoved the bottle in her hands at him. “I brought you a present.”
Shaking his head Malcolm took the bottle and turned around sure she’d follow him.
Closing the door behind her Grey stood there, all the alcohol and confidence fading away now she was actually here, in his flat. What the fuck was she going to say? How did she think this was going to go? Because she realised now it wasn’t going to go how it did in her fantasies. She was going to have to explain things, talk to him. That wasn’t really her forte. There was a reason she mostly picked up pretty boys in clubs.
“Let me guess. You lost your wallet and knew I’d be awake so came to borrow some cash for an Oyster card? He suggested. “Anyway come in. I was just working.”
She followed him into the small living room, noting the piles of paper on the coffee table by his laptop.
“I am interrupting, aren’t I?”
“It’s fine. Fuck it! Since you’re here maybe you could give me a hand? I’ll even pay for a taxi. What do you say?”
“Yeah sure. What do you need me to do?”
“Check through that pile. They’re from the 8.30s. Look for any reference to pathfinders.”
“Pathfinders?”
“Nicola fucking Murray, don’t ask. Just highlight them,” he said, handing over a bright pink highlighter pen.
Grey had already gone through ten pages, sitting there in silence with him before she remembered this wasn’t why she was here at all.
“Is this urgent?” she asked.
“Sorry, darling. You probably want to get home, don’t you? Course you do. Give me two minutes and I’ll call you a cab.”
“Malc, I didn’t come over because I lost my fucking Oyster card. How useless do you think I am?”
“Do you really want me to answer that one?“ he asked, glancing up at her over his glasses. “But again - why the fuck did you?”
Grey was glad of the paperwork in front of her, it meant she could focus on that rather than looking at him. “I had this sudden urge to see you.”
Malcolm scoffed. “No need to take the piss.”
“Malcolm.” Frowning she reached across him for the whiskey she’d brought. “You don’t mind do you?” she asked, already opening it.
“I thought you were leaving.”
“Well you thought wrong,” she said. taking a drink straight from the bottle.
He couldn’t help but smile at that. There was something about Grey he just liked, and had done since she’d shown up for her interview all eager and angry and passionate. She’d never be any good in front of the public, but as someone behind the scenes she’d have worked perfectly.
“I missed you,” she admitted, watching him. “I really, really fucking missed you.” The second the words were out she looked back down at the paperwork. This had been a truly terrible idea. Vodka had a lot to answer for.
“Has Ollie put you up to this? Sam?”
“Yeah that’s it. Sam asked me to turn up on your doorstep at midnight and tell you I missed you, just to fuck with you, Fuck’s sake, Malc…I came because I was in Camden with my mates and I got a bit drunk and a bit fucking thinky and…I wanted to see you again.”
“Need a job reference?”
She wondered if he was making this more difficult for her on purpose. “You’re trying to annoy me, right?”
“Not particularly, but you know me, I don’t generally have to try to do that to most people.”
“Most people, but you know I’ve always thought you were pretty fucking great.”
“Yeah, I always wondered what the fuck was wrong with you.”
“Ah well, this probably isn’t going to ease your mind much.”
“What isn’t?”
“Malc…” she trailed off and parted her legs, pressing one against his like an awkward teenager.
He looked down at them, the tight black denim of her jeans against the grey of his suit trousers then back up to her face.
“How drunk are you?”
“Not as drunk as I thought I was.” She took another swig of whiskey and Malc laughed.
“Enjoying my present there, darling?”
“Yes thanks.”
“So…”
She didn’t reply. Not with words at least. Instead she pressed her lips against his and he could taste the hint of whiskey on her lips, soft and tentative. It wasn’t like last time. She really didn’t seem that drunk, and she wasn’t at DaSAC anymore. There were any number of other reasons why this was probably a bad idea. Still he couldn’t quite stop himself from pressing his lips a little more against hers.
He wasn’t pulling away, which was a huge relief because the second she’d taken that leap towards kissing him she’d known he might have. Again. When he didn’t though Grey sighed contently against his lips one hand moving to the side of his neck as she deepened it, lips opening as his did the same, her tongue tracing over his top lip before she pulled away, looking slightly dazed.
“Fuck,” she murmured.
“You can say that again.” He reached to take the bottle from her, taking a long drink himself. “Well this is a turn up for the books,” he said, looking at her. “I had no fucking idea.”
“I wanted to say something, when we were working together. When you emailed me far too late at night. I’d never have put you in that position though,” she said, looking up at him “Or me for that matter,” she admitted, reaching for the cheap whiskey she’d brought again because it was better than nothing and she wasn’t about to ask him if he had any other alcohol, she’d just shown up on his doorstep out of nowhere, she didn’t have that right, and really any alcohol was better than none. That was practically her moto.
“Come again.”
“You’d’ve turned me down. I know you, Malcolm. You and your fucking morals. So I ignored it. I wasn‘t about to force myself on you.”
There were a few moments of silence, Malcolm trying to decide whether to say what was on his mind or not and then he did, because he couldn’t help himself. “Apart from the Christmas party.”
He’d thought about that night too many times, trying to work out if it had been purely because she was drunk, if she’d have tried it on with anyone that might have been in that taxi with her regardless of who it was, or if it had been more than that, because they’d always had some kind of a connection. The kind of connection he’d only had with Sam, only that definitely wasn’t sexual. There was something more though, something else, something he never let himself think about because that way madness lay.
Grey had very much counted on him never mentioning that, on him being a gentleman, but perhaps she’d asked for it really, because she had forced herself on him and as much as she’d tried to fool herself into thinking she didn’t remember it, she did. It plagued her late at night, another moment of excruciating embarrassment.
“Yeah well that was vodka, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
Malcolm looked at her, the disbelief clear on his face.
“What? Anyway you’re expected to make a twat of yourself at the work’s Christmas do, try and shag someone, it’s tradition!” she said, trying not to smile. She knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on. She wasn’t even sure she wanted one. It was sort of the truth, she’d never have done that in a million years had she not been so drunk. Had she been in her right mind she’d have realised how pointless it was. It was never going to happen while they worked together, but that was why she was here now, because she’d never stopped thinking about him and everything was different now and she needed to know what could happen, how he felt in these circumstances. It probably wasn’t even going to happen now, why would it? But she had to know. The what ifs were driving her ever so slightly crazy.
“Don’t give me that, darling.”
“Yeah well…it was still the vodka.” She took another drink, looked across at him. It had been months since she’d seen him and it only made her want him more. Apparently it was true - absence did make the heart grow fonder. “I’d never’ve made a move on you if I hadn’t been that drunk. Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to, every single fucking time you came into the office.”
Malcolm leant back against the arm of the sofa regarding her. She was gorgeous, there was no denying that, and she was for real, he had no doubts about that either. He had no idea why but he was sure she was. Why else would she have shown up on his doorstep in the middle of a night out? Plus he was good at reading people, it was a key part of his job, this wasn’t some lie to get what she wanted, to further her career, this was the truth. Fuck!
“Whatever you want from me, darling I won’t be able to give it to you,” he sighed, reaching to take the bottle off her again. He didn’t want to reject her but he had to, for her own sake. He couldn’t possibly do this. A relationship. He didn’t have time and she deserved so much more.
“A quick fuck?” she offered, like it was nothing, bringing her knees up on to the sofa, touching them against his.
“Grey“ His voice was close to a growl and he knew in that second he’d lost whatever moral battle he’d been trying to fight. She deserved better, but if she didn’t want better, well that was up to her, wasn’t it? She was a grown woman, more or less.
“Just a suggestion. Christ I‘m not asking you to marry me or something, I just…” she trailed off. Obviously she’d had a bit too much to drink, she was in serious danger of being honest with him.
“You just what?”
“I missed you. I was sitting there in the pub with my friends, and it was great but I just…I had this sudden urge to see you again. It’s been great emailing and everything it’s just…it’s not the same.” She’d missed his voice, and his face, and the way he moved his hands when he spoke. It really was ridiculous, but the last year just hadn’t been quite the same without hearing his impressively creative threats being screamed at someone..
“You know I don’t think anyone’s ever missed me before, darling,” he said with a smile, reaching forward and laying his hand on her knee, thumb rubbing over the denim of her jeans. He knew he probably shouldn’t, but he’d turned her down once, he had to get points for trying, right?
Grey looked down at his hand, then back to his face. If he was rejecting her he was doing a pretty confusing job of it. “I just-I really want to take you to bed, Malc. I thought not seeing you’d, y’know. make that thought go away, but it hasn’t.” She moved a little closer so their legs were pressed together again. “It really fucking hasn’t.”
His arm was around her waist, pulling her down onto him before she even noticed him move, and he was kissing her, strong and sure, his tongue in her mouth and his free hand in her hair, leaving her in little doubt that showing up here like this was the best decision she’d made since applying for the internship in the first place.
“Just one thing,” he said, breaking the kiss and looking up at her, her hair messed up by his hand.
“Yeah?” Grey replied uncertainly, shifting against him to get more comfortable, her hands either side of his shoulders so she wouldn’t collapse on top of him.
“You’re not just playing Communications bingo, right?”
Grey stared at him for a second hoping the words would somehow make sense to her with a bit of time.
“Sorry?”
“Communications bingo, you’re not just trying to get a line by sleeping with various members of the party’s Communications team, are you? Christ, you haven’t got Coverly on there have you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Malcolm said only one word but it felt like he’d dropped a block of ice down her back.
“Jamie.”
Grey moved away from him, trying to work out exactly what to say. How to explain it, though really she didn’t see why she should. She was a grown woman, it was her decision, but she had to admit it was one of the worst ones she’d made.
“Jamie though,” Malcolm said, sitting up. “What were you thinking? You’re lucky you even made it out alive.”
Grey still didn‘t say anything. She should have known that was going to get back to Malcolm. Of course it was, like Jamie was going to keep his foul mouth shut? “He reminded me of someone I fancied. Never underestimate how stupid people, well, I, can be when drunk, horny, and a little bit desperate.”
“Aye? Is that what this is then? Do I remind you of this bloke as well?” He was well aware he and Jamie shared an accent and certain character traits after all.
Grey wanted to laugh. “Seriously?” she asked, stunned by the question. For someone so intelligent Malcolm could be incredibly stupid at times. “Are you shitting me here?”
“What?”
“Do you seriously not get what I’m saying.” Shaking her head she leant in to kiss him deeply again. “No that isn’t what this is,” she assured him. “Idiot.”
Grey had thought about this a lot, way more than was even vaguely sane given she hadn‘t seen him for a year. She’d laid in bed late at night with his rants playing in her head and the image of his face and the way he moved his hands playing on a loop in her mind. She’d wondered what he’d be like in bed so many times. Sometimes she was convinced he’d be just like he was in his work life - the completely dominant alpha male, whilst others she couldn’t help but wonder if he might be the exact opposite - wanting to give up all that control he always had, to just let someone else do all the work, to take the control away from him, to just let him stop thinking for a while. She could never decide quite which she’d prefer - she’d never gone for the alpha male type before, it had always been the slightly nervous looking pretty boys, easy to corrupt, easy to push around. She was almost always the one on top. She’d called it feminism, but really it was just that she liked her men submissive, until Malcolm that was. Either way though it didn’t matter, she generally came just as hard whether she was imagining him fucking her roughly over the desk in his office or looking down at him as she fucked him hard and fast in her bed, her nails digging into his shoulders, making him hiss and curse.
But now here she was, in his bedroom. His depressingly empty, impersonal bedroom, which she somehow managed to notice even though her attention should have been completely on him. She felt nervous though, Malcolm could be intimidating, though he’d rarely been that way with her. It was something else though - the worry that this would be a one off, that he’d regret it, that her age would be an issue, or, most unlikely of all, that she’d be a disappointment, but she couldn’t help it. He did strange things to her head. She knew this wasn’t going to be perfect - there was no such thing, but she wanted it to be amazing, she wanted to see him smile. He didn’t do that nearly enough.
“Now you sure you’re not going to regret this, darling?” he asked, as he sat at the foot of the bed, looking up at her standing in front of him, his short dark hair still messy from when her fingers had been curled up in it as they’d kissed.
“I’d be fucking stunned,” she admitted.
“Aye? Cos I wouldn’t. Shouldn’t you be off fucking some interesting pretty boy, one of your protest pals, maybe. Or-or Ollie?”
“Ollie?” The disgust on her face was all the answer he should have needed. Maybe Ollie would’ve been her type if he wasn’t so fucking annoying, and if Malcolm hadn’t wandered into her life and rendered most other men completely uninteresting to her. Bastard.
“Just not a man old enough to be your father.”
Grey raised an eyebrow at him, slightly confused. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know he was older than her, it just wasn’t something she thought about because while he occupied way too many of her thoughts it was generally the sound of his voice, or the elegance of his gestures, or how he might look when he came, she really didn’t have time to think about his age.
“My dad’s 55, I think, how old are you?” she asked, though she really didn’t care what the answer was, he was the one bringing it up.
“More than twice your age.”
She shrugged, taking a couple of steps closer so her legs were touching his. “I really don’t give a fuck, Malc, but if it’s an issue for you, for fuck’s sake tell me now before this becomes some weird fucking…thing between us and you can’t even look me in the eye because we’ve shagged.” Because that would’ve been the very worse thing, not having him as a friend, that’d be worse than anything else that might happen..
“You’re twenty fucking three,” he sighed, reaching for her hand anyway, threading his fingers with hers. God what could she possibly see in him? He wasn’t good looking, he wasn’t especially nice and he was old, or pretty close to it at least, she must be aware she had better options, surely? She’d been drinking too, that much was obvious. She didn’t seem that drunk though, he’d seen her much drunker on more than one occasion, but he still felt like he had to make absolutely sure she wanted to do this, because he just couldn’t make sense of it.
“What the fuck am I meant to say to that? Sorry? Yeah okay I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m only twenty three, I’m sorry I’m not ten years older so you’d feel better about this, but I don’t really know what I can do to make this better. Tell you I lied at my interview because of ageism or something? Jesus!”
Malcolm closed his eyes. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything, but he just couldn’t help himself, he’d needed to point out this wasn’t quite as simple as two people sleeping together. “Say it again.”
“Say what?”
“Say you don’t give a fuck.”
“I don’t, give, a, fuck,” she said slowly, emphasising each word. “It doesn’t matter, it’s never even entered my fucking head. You could be twenty or sixty, I’d still fancy you.”
“Nah, you’d’ve hated me when I was twenty, I was a proper mouthy little prick.”
“Unlike now?”
“Yeah, yeah.. Fair point,” he chuckled, a quick yank of her arm bringing her almost falling on top of him.
His arm was around her instantly, supporting her, stopping her from falling off him and the bed. “I just wanted to make sure,” he said quietly.
“Was my tongue down your throat too subtle?”
He felt like such an idiot. God she really did fancy him, despite the fact she’d seen the way he treated people, well cretins mostly, but they were still generally regarded as people sadly. She knew what he was like around the people that made his life incredibly difficult but she still liked him. There was clearly something mentally wrong with her, but she hid it well behind a veil of intelligence and wit. “I assumed you were pissed.”
“Well I often am, but there are other men in London if this was just me being drunk and horny. Boring, normal, non-sweary men.” She shook her head as if this was a terrible shame. “I got on the tube, I stopped off for whiskey for you. I know what I’m doing.”
“Aye, speaking of which it was fucking terrible by the way,” he said, faintly distracted as his gaze followed her hands suddenly working at the buttons of his shirt.
She looked up at him for a moment, taking her attention away from the removal of his clothes. “It’s the thought that counts.”
“Well think Glenfiddich next time, yeah?”
She probably should’ve been annoyed, or offended but all she could focus on was the ‘next time’ whether he meant it like that or not. Her brain didn’t work right when she was drunk, she tended to over romanticise things, which really wasn’t her style.
“I’ll start saving up,” she said, returning to her previous task of ridding him of his shirt. With the last button undone she reached up, pushing it off his shoulders and letting it drop to the bed behind him.
Grey leant back to get a better look at him, biting back a smile. “Are you sucking your stomach in?”
“What? No. Fuck off!” Fuck! She’d noticed that then? He wasn’t entirely sure why he was even bothering, but she was twenty three! And gorgeous and intelligent and he was a slightly out of shape, aggressive, forty odd year old, it was the least he could do to try and suck his gut in.
Slowly she slid her hand down his body, over his stomach. “You gonna keep this up all night?” she asked, stroking against his skin. “I don’t care, you know? You could have fucking boobs bigger than mine and I‘d still want to fuck you, not that that‘d be difficult admittedly but...”
God he loved the way she said that - that she wanted to fuck him, the way she just came out with it. It was refreshing and so sexy he could barely comprehend what was going on. “You’re going to give me an ego, darling.”
“I’ve only just started,” she informed him, managing to stop herself from going too over the top. This was why she shouldn’t be allowed to drink, she tended to say stupid things she was likely to want to deny when she was sober. regardless of how true they were. Kissing him quickly she pulled away just enough to pull off her t-shirt and throw it aside.
Malcolm tried not to stare, but it was really quite difficult considering she was now completely topless. She was sort of glorious - all pale and slim and smooth. Reaching out he ran his hand from her stomach to her chest, brushing his thumb over her nipple as he watched her reactions carefully, the way her lips parted and twitched slightly as he touched her. There were probably a hundred things he wanted to say to her, a hundred compliments but he knew Grey, knew how much she hated that kind of thing, so he kept them all to himself as he kissed her again, moving his hands to the fastening of her jeans as she reached down between them and did the same to him.
Her hands fumbled at his flies eagerly. It felt like she’d waited so long for this and now he was here, now she could feel the heat of his skin against her own all she wanted to do was get him naked, fuck him senseless like she’d wanted to for over a year. She raised herself as much as she could as they both pushed at the fabric of their trousers, wanting them out of the way. They’d wasted enough time.
Grey’s heart was already pounding as Malcolm’s hands moved to the waistband of her underwear, pausing just a second to look down at them.
“Boxers?” he questioned, moving his hands away, moving them to the buttons at the fly, undoing them swiftly, and slipping his fingers inside,her pubic hair brushing against them. It was no surprise really, the men’s underwear nor the soft hair between her legs. Not that he’d given it that much thought of course, well never in that much detail at least.
“Not really the lacey type,” she replied, pulling at his own underwear. She could have copied him, could have teased him but she really didn’t have the patience. Before he could even kick his boxers off her hand was around him, stroking him firmly as she leant in, kissing him hungrily as he started to grow and harden in her grip.
He groaned against her lips, removing his hand from inside her boxers to push them down, not even getting them as far as her knees before she shifted, raising herself slightly, her lips still on his as she let go of him, lowering herself onto him, her hands moving to his shoulders, bracing herself as she began to move slowly at first then picked up speed quickly. She was still kissing him, her tongue still battling with his as she rode him, her hands tightening and gripping his shoulders.
Then finally she stopped, practically tearing her lips away from his as she looked at him, lips parted as they both gasped for air. Her dark eyes were on him through the curtain of hair that had fallen over them and he reached up, pushing it aside as he looked up at her, skin flushed, hair a mess, and god she looked so into this. Into him. And she hadn’t slowed down. She was still fucking him just as fast, speeding up even, fucking him hard and fast and fuck he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex like this, desperate and passionate and he was so aware of the pounding of his heart, of her legs pressing against his as he moved his hands to her muscular thighs, his touch rough and eager.
She moaned as he touched her, biting back a smile as she sped up, her eyes never leaving his face. She probably should have gone a little easier on him really, gone a little slower, but given how long she’d waited it was impossible to hold back now, and Malcolm certainly didn’t seem to have any complaints. His hands moved from her thighs to her hips, his grip firm but making no attempt to alter her pace in any way.
“Grey,” he murmured, voice low. “Darling.”
It sounded a little like a warning and his hands gripped her harder, pressing into her skin. She didn’t slow down though, didn’t ease up. If it was a warning, well she really didn’t care much how quickly he came, as long as he did. He moved one hand from her hips, wrapped it around her, pulling her closer, feeling the heat of her skin, the pounding of her own heart and hearing her breathing ragged and heavy. He wasn’t going to last. Oh he was old enough to have control over himself, but well he hadn’t slept with a woman this eager, this passionate for years.
“Grey,” he said again, the word grunted into her ear as he pressed up into her.
Her hand moved up into his hair, twisting in it as her breathing became even heavier, as she fucked him harder still, clearly trying to send him over the edge. “Go on,” she hissed, shifting just enough to be able to see his face properly. She wanted to watch him, wanted to see his face the moment he came. It was something she’d imagined far, far too many times, she had to see what he really looked like when at that exact moment.
He wanted to hold on, more than anything but fuck it was very nearly impossible, especially when she said that. He pressed up into her again, his eyes closing as his body tightened against her and he came with a grunted ‘fuck’, pushing up into her as far as he could go.
When he opened his eyes again she was still looking at him, smiling at him like he’d just done something amazing.
“Fuck you look good when you come,” she said trying to catch her breath.
Malcolm chuckled and shook his head. “You have the fucking weirdest ideas of what looks good, darling,” he said, leaning in to kiss her again.
Part 2
Part 3
“I need to be somewhere,” she said, gulping down her drink, sounding slightly confused.
Her two friends looked at each other.
“Nightclub full of pissed up pretty boys?”
If only.
“Actually there’s someone I really need to see. Sorry,” she stood up and frowned as they looked at her like she’d lost her mind, which was probably a fair assessment of the situation..
“It’s 11 o’clock, you can’t just go and see someone at this time of night, what are you on?”
“No, no it’s fine. He’ll be up.” 11 was early for Malcolm, she knew that from experience. He might not even be back from Downing Street yet. God she might just end up waiting on his doorstep, which was far too pathetic for her to even think about.
“He?”
Grey winced. “Look I’m really sorry, I’m an utterly fucking shit mate, but…” she shook her head. “You can take the piss tomorrow, yeah? Mercilessly and for the rest of my life. See you later.” She paused and pulled a fiver out of her pocket, handing it over. “to cover my part of the taxi.”
“Like you’re not gonna end up in Proud?” one pointed out.
“If it goes tits up I’ll just go home,” she shrugged, turning to leave. Or maybe they were right. Maybe she’d need something to distract her if Malcolm told her to fuck off, which was always possible, especially if he was busy.
Realising it was too late now, that she was here, Grey knocked on Malcolm’s door and waited, clutching the bottle of whiskey she’d brought on the way through the carrier bag like it was a safety blanket.
A slightly dishevelled Malcolm opened the door, the top two buttons of his pale blue shirt undone, the shirt itself untucked. It was only then that Grey realised he wouldn’t necessarily be alone. Why would he be? Had she really thought she was the only woman in the world that could possibly fancy him? He was good looking, he could even be charming sometimes. The thing was she liked him when he wasn’t being charming, when he was a whirlwind of anger and creatively used expletives. It was Malcolm fucking Tucker she liked - the man that had ministers cowering in fear.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” she said.
Malcolm blinked at her as if he wasn’t sure if she was real or not. It must have been almost a year since he’d seen her in person, and now here she was on his doorstep at almost midnight on a Friday night? That was pretty fucking weird even for her.
“Hmmm?” he said, remembering he’d still got them on. “Oh, oh yeah.”
He looked impossibly sexy slightly bleary eyed. The glasses really suited him, it was a shame he hadn’t worn them when she’d been working for him at Downing Street, though probably for the best all things considered. She’d already had way too many fantasies about him while they’d been working together.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked, practically holding her breath as she waited for his answer.
“No, no. Not really,” he replied, frowning at her. “Grey, not that it’s not lovely to see you or anything but…what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I was just passing?” she offered.
“Grey.”
“Can I come in?” She shoved the bottle in her hands at him. “I brought you a present.”
Shaking his head Malcolm took the bottle and turned around sure she’d follow him.
Closing the door behind her Grey stood there, all the alcohol and confidence fading away now she was actually here, in his flat. What the fuck was she going to say? How did she think this was going to go? Because she realised now it wasn’t going to go how it did in her fantasies. She was going to have to explain things, talk to him. That wasn’t really her forte. There was a reason she mostly picked up pretty boys in clubs.
“Let me guess. You lost your wallet and knew I’d be awake so came to borrow some cash for an Oyster card? He suggested. “Anyway come in. I was just working.”
She followed him into the small living room, noting the piles of paper on the coffee table by his laptop.
“I am interrupting, aren’t I?”
“It’s fine. Fuck it! Since you’re here maybe you could give me a hand? I’ll even pay for a taxi. What do you say?”
“Yeah sure. What do you need me to do?”
“Check through that pile. They’re from the 8.30s. Look for any reference to pathfinders.”
“Pathfinders?”
“Nicola fucking Murray, don’t ask. Just highlight them,” he said, handing over a bright pink highlighter pen.
Grey had already gone through ten pages, sitting there in silence with him before she remembered this wasn’t why she was here at all.
“Is this urgent?” she asked.
“Sorry, darling. You probably want to get home, don’t you? Course you do. Give me two minutes and I’ll call you a cab.”
“Malc, I didn’t come over because I lost my fucking Oyster card. How useless do you think I am?”
“Do you really want me to answer that one?“ he asked, glancing up at her over his glasses. “But again - why the fuck did you?”
Grey was glad of the paperwork in front of her, it meant she could focus on that rather than looking at him. “I had this sudden urge to see you.”
Malcolm scoffed. “No need to take the piss.”
“Malcolm.” Frowning she reached across him for the whiskey she’d brought. “You don’t mind do you?” she asked, already opening it.
“I thought you were leaving.”
“Well you thought wrong,” she said. taking a drink straight from the bottle.
He couldn’t help but smile at that. There was something about Grey he just liked, and had done since she’d shown up for her interview all eager and angry and passionate. She’d never be any good in front of the public, but as someone behind the scenes she’d have worked perfectly.
“I missed you,” she admitted, watching him. “I really, really fucking missed you.” The second the words were out she looked back down at the paperwork. This had been a truly terrible idea. Vodka had a lot to answer for.
“Has Ollie put you up to this? Sam?”
“Yeah that’s it. Sam asked me to turn up on your doorstep at midnight and tell you I missed you, just to fuck with you, Fuck’s sake, Malc…I came because I was in Camden with my mates and I got a bit drunk and a bit fucking thinky and…I wanted to see you again.”
“Need a job reference?”
She wondered if he was making this more difficult for her on purpose. “You’re trying to annoy me, right?”
“Not particularly, but you know me, I don’t generally have to try to do that to most people.”
“Most people, but you know I’ve always thought you were pretty fucking great.”
“Yeah, I always wondered what the fuck was wrong with you.”
“Ah well, this probably isn’t going to ease your mind much.”
“What isn’t?”
“Malc…” she trailed off and parted her legs, pressing one against his like an awkward teenager.
He looked down at them, the tight black denim of her jeans against the grey of his suit trousers then back up to her face.
“How drunk are you?”
“Not as drunk as I thought I was.” She took another swig of whiskey and Malc laughed.
“Enjoying my present there, darling?”
“Yes thanks.”
“So…”
She didn’t reply. Not with words at least. Instead she pressed her lips against his and he could taste the hint of whiskey on her lips, soft and tentative. It wasn’t like last time. She really didn’t seem that drunk, and she wasn’t at DaSAC anymore. There were any number of other reasons why this was probably a bad idea. Still he couldn’t quite stop himself from pressing his lips a little more against hers.
He wasn’t pulling away, which was a huge relief because the second she’d taken that leap towards kissing him she’d known he might have. Again. When he didn’t though Grey sighed contently against his lips one hand moving to the side of his neck as she deepened it, lips opening as his did the same, her tongue tracing over his top lip before she pulled away, looking slightly dazed.
“Fuck,” she murmured.
“You can say that again.” He reached to take the bottle from her, taking a long drink himself. “Well this is a turn up for the books,” he said, looking at her. “I had no fucking idea.”
“I wanted to say something, when we were working together. When you emailed me far too late at night. I’d never have put you in that position though,” she said, looking up at him “Or me for that matter,” she admitted, reaching for the cheap whiskey she’d brought again because it was better than nothing and she wasn’t about to ask him if he had any other alcohol, she’d just shown up on his doorstep out of nowhere, she didn’t have that right, and really any alcohol was better than none. That was practically her moto.
“Come again.”
“You’d’ve turned me down. I know you, Malcolm. You and your fucking morals. So I ignored it. I wasn‘t about to force myself on you.”
There were a few moments of silence, Malcolm trying to decide whether to say what was on his mind or not and then he did, because he couldn’t help himself. “Apart from the Christmas party.”
He’d thought about that night too many times, trying to work out if it had been purely because she was drunk, if she’d have tried it on with anyone that might have been in that taxi with her regardless of who it was, or if it had been more than that, because they’d always had some kind of a connection. The kind of connection he’d only had with Sam, only that definitely wasn’t sexual. There was something more though, something else, something he never let himself think about because that way madness lay.
Grey had very much counted on him never mentioning that, on him being a gentleman, but perhaps she’d asked for it really, because she had forced herself on him and as much as she’d tried to fool herself into thinking she didn’t remember it, she did. It plagued her late at night, another moment of excruciating embarrassment.
“Yeah well that was vodka, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
Malcolm looked at her, the disbelief clear on his face.
“What? Anyway you’re expected to make a twat of yourself at the work’s Christmas do, try and shag someone, it’s tradition!” she said, trying not to smile. She knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on. She wasn’t even sure she wanted one. It was sort of the truth, she’d never have done that in a million years had she not been so drunk. Had she been in her right mind she’d have realised how pointless it was. It was never going to happen while they worked together, but that was why she was here now, because she’d never stopped thinking about him and everything was different now and she needed to know what could happen, how he felt in these circumstances. It probably wasn’t even going to happen now, why would it? But she had to know. The what ifs were driving her ever so slightly crazy.
“Don’t give me that, darling.”
“Yeah well…it was still the vodka.” She took another drink, looked across at him. It had been months since she’d seen him and it only made her want him more. Apparently it was true - absence did make the heart grow fonder. “I’d never’ve made a move on you if I hadn’t been that drunk. Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to, every single fucking time you came into the office.”
Malcolm leant back against the arm of the sofa regarding her. She was gorgeous, there was no denying that, and she was for real, he had no doubts about that either. He had no idea why but he was sure she was. Why else would she have shown up on his doorstep in the middle of a night out? Plus he was good at reading people, it was a key part of his job, this wasn’t some lie to get what she wanted, to further her career, this was the truth. Fuck!
“Whatever you want from me, darling I won’t be able to give it to you,” he sighed, reaching to take the bottle off her again. He didn’t want to reject her but he had to, for her own sake. He couldn’t possibly do this. A relationship. He didn’t have time and she deserved so much more.
“A quick fuck?” she offered, like it was nothing, bringing her knees up on to the sofa, touching them against his.
“Grey“ His voice was close to a growl and he knew in that second he’d lost whatever moral battle he’d been trying to fight. She deserved better, but if she didn’t want better, well that was up to her, wasn’t it? She was a grown woman, more or less.
“Just a suggestion. Christ I‘m not asking you to marry me or something, I just…” she trailed off. Obviously she’d had a bit too much to drink, she was in serious danger of being honest with him.
“You just what?”
“I missed you. I was sitting there in the pub with my friends, and it was great but I just…I had this sudden urge to see you again. It’s been great emailing and everything it’s just…it’s not the same.” She’d missed his voice, and his face, and the way he moved his hands when he spoke. It really was ridiculous, but the last year just hadn’t been quite the same without hearing his impressively creative threats being screamed at someone..
“You know I don’t think anyone’s ever missed me before, darling,” he said with a smile, reaching forward and laying his hand on her knee, thumb rubbing over the denim of her jeans. He knew he probably shouldn’t, but he’d turned her down once, he had to get points for trying, right?
Grey looked down at his hand, then back to his face. If he was rejecting her he was doing a pretty confusing job of it. “I just-I really want to take you to bed, Malc. I thought not seeing you’d, y’know. make that thought go away, but it hasn’t.” She moved a little closer so their legs were pressed together again. “It really fucking hasn’t.”
His arm was around her waist, pulling her down onto him before she even noticed him move, and he was kissing her, strong and sure, his tongue in her mouth and his free hand in her hair, leaving her in little doubt that showing up here like this was the best decision she’d made since applying for the internship in the first place.
“Just one thing,” he said, breaking the kiss and looking up at her, her hair messed up by his hand.
“Yeah?” Grey replied uncertainly, shifting against him to get more comfortable, her hands either side of his shoulders so she wouldn’t collapse on top of him.
“You’re not just playing Communications bingo, right?”
Grey stared at him for a second hoping the words would somehow make sense to her with a bit of time.
“Sorry?”
“Communications bingo, you’re not just trying to get a line by sleeping with various members of the party’s Communications team, are you? Christ, you haven’t got Coverly on there have you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Malcolm said only one word but it felt like he’d dropped a block of ice down her back.
“Jamie.”
Grey moved away from him, trying to work out exactly what to say. How to explain it, though really she didn’t see why she should. She was a grown woman, it was her decision, but she had to admit it was one of the worst ones she’d made.
“Jamie though,” Malcolm said, sitting up. “What were you thinking? You’re lucky you even made it out alive.”
Grey still didn‘t say anything. She should have known that was going to get back to Malcolm. Of course it was, like Jamie was going to keep his foul mouth shut? “He reminded me of someone I fancied. Never underestimate how stupid people, well, I, can be when drunk, horny, and a little bit desperate.”
“Aye? Is that what this is then? Do I remind you of this bloke as well?” He was well aware he and Jamie shared an accent and certain character traits after all.
Grey wanted to laugh. “Seriously?” she asked, stunned by the question. For someone so intelligent Malcolm could be incredibly stupid at times. “Are you shitting me here?”
“What?”
“Do you seriously not get what I’m saying.” Shaking her head she leant in to kiss him deeply again. “No that isn’t what this is,” she assured him. “Idiot.”
Grey had thought about this a lot, way more than was even vaguely sane given she hadn‘t seen him for a year. She’d laid in bed late at night with his rants playing in her head and the image of his face and the way he moved his hands playing on a loop in her mind. She’d wondered what he’d be like in bed so many times. Sometimes she was convinced he’d be just like he was in his work life - the completely dominant alpha male, whilst others she couldn’t help but wonder if he might be the exact opposite - wanting to give up all that control he always had, to just let someone else do all the work, to take the control away from him, to just let him stop thinking for a while. She could never decide quite which she’d prefer - she’d never gone for the alpha male type before, it had always been the slightly nervous looking pretty boys, easy to corrupt, easy to push around. She was almost always the one on top. She’d called it feminism, but really it was just that she liked her men submissive, until Malcolm that was. Either way though it didn’t matter, she generally came just as hard whether she was imagining him fucking her roughly over the desk in his office or looking down at him as she fucked him hard and fast in her bed, her nails digging into his shoulders, making him hiss and curse.
But now here she was, in his bedroom. His depressingly empty, impersonal bedroom, which she somehow managed to notice even though her attention should have been completely on him. She felt nervous though, Malcolm could be intimidating, though he’d rarely been that way with her. It was something else though - the worry that this would be a one off, that he’d regret it, that her age would be an issue, or, most unlikely of all, that she’d be a disappointment, but she couldn’t help it. He did strange things to her head. She knew this wasn’t going to be perfect - there was no such thing, but she wanted it to be amazing, she wanted to see him smile. He didn’t do that nearly enough.
“Now you sure you’re not going to regret this, darling?” he asked, as he sat at the foot of the bed, looking up at her standing in front of him, his short dark hair still messy from when her fingers had been curled up in it as they’d kissed.
“I’d be fucking stunned,” she admitted.
“Aye? Cos I wouldn’t. Shouldn’t you be off fucking some interesting pretty boy, one of your protest pals, maybe. Or-or Ollie?”
“Ollie?” The disgust on her face was all the answer he should have needed. Maybe Ollie would’ve been her type if he wasn’t so fucking annoying, and if Malcolm hadn’t wandered into her life and rendered most other men completely uninteresting to her. Bastard.
“Just not a man old enough to be your father.”
Grey raised an eyebrow at him, slightly confused. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know he was older than her, it just wasn’t something she thought about because while he occupied way too many of her thoughts it was generally the sound of his voice, or the elegance of his gestures, or how he might look when he came, she really didn’t have time to think about his age.
“My dad’s 55, I think, how old are you?” she asked, though she really didn’t care what the answer was, he was the one bringing it up.
“More than twice your age.”
She shrugged, taking a couple of steps closer so her legs were touching his. “I really don’t give a fuck, Malc, but if it’s an issue for you, for fuck’s sake tell me now before this becomes some weird fucking…thing between us and you can’t even look me in the eye because we’ve shagged.” Because that would’ve been the very worse thing, not having him as a friend, that’d be worse than anything else that might happen..
“You’re twenty fucking three,” he sighed, reaching for her hand anyway, threading his fingers with hers. God what could she possibly see in him? He wasn’t good looking, he wasn’t especially nice and he was old, or pretty close to it at least, she must be aware she had better options, surely? She’d been drinking too, that much was obvious. She didn’t seem that drunk though, he’d seen her much drunker on more than one occasion, but he still felt like he had to make absolutely sure she wanted to do this, because he just couldn’t make sense of it.
“What the fuck am I meant to say to that? Sorry? Yeah okay I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m only twenty three, I’m sorry I’m not ten years older so you’d feel better about this, but I don’t really know what I can do to make this better. Tell you I lied at my interview because of ageism or something? Jesus!”
Malcolm closed his eyes. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything, but he just couldn’t help himself, he’d needed to point out this wasn’t quite as simple as two people sleeping together. “Say it again.”
“Say what?”
“Say you don’t give a fuck.”
“I don’t, give, a, fuck,” she said slowly, emphasising each word. “It doesn’t matter, it’s never even entered my fucking head. You could be twenty or sixty, I’d still fancy you.”
“Nah, you’d’ve hated me when I was twenty, I was a proper mouthy little prick.”
“Unlike now?”
“Yeah, yeah.. Fair point,” he chuckled, a quick yank of her arm bringing her almost falling on top of him.
His arm was around her instantly, supporting her, stopping her from falling off him and the bed. “I just wanted to make sure,” he said quietly.
“Was my tongue down your throat too subtle?”
He felt like such an idiot. God she really did fancy him, despite the fact she’d seen the way he treated people, well cretins mostly, but they were still generally regarded as people sadly. She knew what he was like around the people that made his life incredibly difficult but she still liked him. There was clearly something mentally wrong with her, but she hid it well behind a veil of intelligence and wit. “I assumed you were pissed.”
“Well I often am, but there are other men in London if this was just me being drunk and horny. Boring, normal, non-sweary men.” She shook her head as if this was a terrible shame. “I got on the tube, I stopped off for whiskey for you. I know what I’m doing.”
“Aye, speaking of which it was fucking terrible by the way,” he said, faintly distracted as his gaze followed her hands suddenly working at the buttons of his shirt.
She looked up at him for a moment, taking her attention away from the removal of his clothes. “It’s the thought that counts.”
“Well think Glenfiddich next time, yeah?”
She probably should’ve been annoyed, or offended but all she could focus on was the ‘next time’ whether he meant it like that or not. Her brain didn’t work right when she was drunk, she tended to over romanticise things, which really wasn’t her style.
“I’ll start saving up,” she said, returning to her previous task of ridding him of his shirt. With the last button undone she reached up, pushing it off his shoulders and letting it drop to the bed behind him.
Grey leant back to get a better look at him, biting back a smile. “Are you sucking your stomach in?”
“What? No. Fuck off!” Fuck! She’d noticed that then? He wasn’t entirely sure why he was even bothering, but she was twenty three! And gorgeous and intelligent and he was a slightly out of shape, aggressive, forty odd year old, it was the least he could do to try and suck his gut in.
Slowly she slid her hand down his body, over his stomach. “You gonna keep this up all night?” she asked, stroking against his skin. “I don’t care, you know? You could have fucking boobs bigger than mine and I‘d still want to fuck you, not that that‘d be difficult admittedly but...”
God he loved the way she said that - that she wanted to fuck him, the way she just came out with it. It was refreshing and so sexy he could barely comprehend what was going on. “You’re going to give me an ego, darling.”
“I’ve only just started,” she informed him, managing to stop herself from going too over the top. This was why she shouldn’t be allowed to drink, she tended to say stupid things she was likely to want to deny when she was sober. regardless of how true they were. Kissing him quickly she pulled away just enough to pull off her t-shirt and throw it aside.
Malcolm tried not to stare, but it was really quite difficult considering she was now completely topless. She was sort of glorious - all pale and slim and smooth. Reaching out he ran his hand from her stomach to her chest, brushing his thumb over her nipple as he watched her reactions carefully, the way her lips parted and twitched slightly as he touched her. There were probably a hundred things he wanted to say to her, a hundred compliments but he knew Grey, knew how much she hated that kind of thing, so he kept them all to himself as he kissed her again, moving his hands to the fastening of her jeans as she reached down between them and did the same to him.
Her hands fumbled at his flies eagerly. It felt like she’d waited so long for this and now he was here, now she could feel the heat of his skin against her own all she wanted to do was get him naked, fuck him senseless like she’d wanted to for over a year. She raised herself as much as she could as they both pushed at the fabric of their trousers, wanting them out of the way. They’d wasted enough time.
Grey’s heart was already pounding as Malcolm’s hands moved to the waistband of her underwear, pausing just a second to look down at them.
“Boxers?” he questioned, moving his hands away, moving them to the buttons at the fly, undoing them swiftly, and slipping his fingers inside,her pubic hair brushing against them. It was no surprise really, the men’s underwear nor the soft hair between her legs. Not that he’d given it that much thought of course, well never in that much detail at least.
“Not really the lacey type,” she replied, pulling at his own underwear. She could have copied him, could have teased him but she really didn’t have the patience. Before he could even kick his boxers off her hand was around him, stroking him firmly as she leant in, kissing him hungrily as he started to grow and harden in her grip.
He groaned against her lips, removing his hand from inside her boxers to push them down, not even getting them as far as her knees before she shifted, raising herself slightly, her lips still on his as she let go of him, lowering herself onto him, her hands moving to his shoulders, bracing herself as she began to move slowly at first then picked up speed quickly. She was still kissing him, her tongue still battling with his as she rode him, her hands tightening and gripping his shoulders.
Then finally she stopped, practically tearing her lips away from his as she looked at him, lips parted as they both gasped for air. Her dark eyes were on him through the curtain of hair that had fallen over them and he reached up, pushing it aside as he looked up at her, skin flushed, hair a mess, and god she looked so into this. Into him. And she hadn’t slowed down. She was still fucking him just as fast, speeding up even, fucking him hard and fast and fuck he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex like this, desperate and passionate and he was so aware of the pounding of his heart, of her legs pressing against his as he moved his hands to her muscular thighs, his touch rough and eager.
She moaned as he touched her, biting back a smile as she sped up, her eyes never leaving his face. She probably should have gone a little easier on him really, gone a little slower, but given how long she’d waited it was impossible to hold back now, and Malcolm certainly didn’t seem to have any complaints. His hands moved from her thighs to her hips, his grip firm but making no attempt to alter her pace in any way.
“Grey,” he murmured, voice low. “Darling.”
It sounded a little like a warning and his hands gripped her harder, pressing into her skin. She didn’t slow down though, didn’t ease up. If it was a warning, well she really didn’t care much how quickly he came, as long as he did. He moved one hand from her hips, wrapped it around her, pulling her closer, feeling the heat of her skin, the pounding of her own heart and hearing her breathing ragged and heavy. He wasn’t going to last. Oh he was old enough to have control over himself, but well he hadn’t slept with a woman this eager, this passionate for years.
“Grey,” he said again, the word grunted into her ear as he pressed up into her.
Her hand moved up into his hair, twisting in it as her breathing became even heavier, as she fucked him harder still, clearly trying to send him over the edge. “Go on,” she hissed, shifting just enough to be able to see his face properly. She wanted to watch him, wanted to see his face the moment he came. It was something she’d imagined far, far too many times, she had to see what he really looked like when at that exact moment.
He wanted to hold on, more than anything but fuck it was very nearly impossible, especially when she said that. He pressed up into her again, his eyes closing as his body tightened against her and he came with a grunted ‘fuck’, pushing up into her as far as he could go.
When he opened his eyes again she was still looking at him, smiling at him like he’d just done something amazing.
“Fuck you look good when you come,” she said trying to catch her breath.
Malcolm chuckled and shook his head. “You have the fucking weirdest ideas of what looks good, darling,” he said, leaning in to kiss her again.
Part 2
Part 3