Paper Jam (standalone)
Title: Paper Jam
Author: spazzyskittles/Tiffany
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
POV: 1st person POV, Ryan’s
Summary: This is the one where Ryan’s an accountant and Brendon’s a copy boy.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Panic at the Disco or Fall Out Boy. This story is a work of fiction and has never and will never happen. It is just a product of my overactive imagination.
A/N: This was written as a birthday present for buildyourwalls because I adore her. We are definitely MFEO. Happy birthday, bb! Thanks to my beta, pinkkchocolate, who should think of this story whenever she runs out of paper.
"Ross!" I wince slightly as the source of that harsh and hurried tone approaches me. I straighten out my face just in time to look up from my desk and see my supervisor's supervisor frowning at me.
"Yes, Mr. Wentz?" I say with fake cheerfulness in my voice. Unlike my direct supervisor, Patrick, who is more like a friend than a boss, Mr. Wentz had deemed it too casual to go by first names.
"Where's your write-up of the annual report that you were supposed to look over? We need your analysis by the end of the day!" He gestures wildly at me, and I have to use all my willpower to refrain from rolling my eyes at him.
I give him what I think is a placating smile and say, “It’s done. I just have to run off a few copies before I turn them into Patrick.”
It seems to have worked since his frown has become a lot less noticeable, but I guess he doesn’t want to let me off the hook so easily because he responds, “Well, what are you doing here then? Go do it!” Mr. Wentz then turns on his heel and stalks off to his office.
I let out the sigh and eye-roll that I’d been keeping in and gather my papers to head down the hall to the copy machine. When I get there, my face falls when I see a sign on it that reads “Out of Order”.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter under my breath.
“Whoa there, Ryan.”
I turn my head and see my boss smiling jovially at me. “Hey, Patrick. Sorry, Wentz came by my desk and was freaking out about getting these in,” I say as I gesture to the papers in my hand.
He claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, man,” Patrick says. “You can go down to the copy room on the third floor. It’s mainly for making a ton of copies, but I’m sure they’ll let you use the copiers there if ours is broken.”
I sigh, relieved. “Thanks so much, Patrick. I’ll go down there right now.”
I make my way to the elevator and down two floors. After asking a hassled looking assistant to point the way, I head down to the copy room. I pull the door open, and I raise my eyebrows at the sight in front of me.
An ass is waving at me as its owner leans next to a copier, audibly grunting as he reaches for something. I stand quietly, just staring with my mouth hanging slightly open.
“Ah-ha, gotcha!” the man says as he pulls out a piece of paper. He whips around, and I have to shake my head to break my stare. I close my mouth, and the guy tilts his head and smirks at me. “Can I help you?” he asks.
I clear my throat, making sure to keep my voice low with a bored tone because he may be hot but so are a lot of people. “Yeah, um, I kind of need to make a few copies of these.”
He approaches me and leans over to look at the documents in my hand. “Don’t you accountants have a copy machine on the fifth floor?” He’s got this tone in his voice. It’s confident, bordering on arrogant, and it causes me to roll my eyes. What the fuck does he have to be arrogant about? He’s a fucking copy boy. He spends his days worrying about toner levels and un-jamming paper jams.
I give him a slightly annoyed look. “It’s broken. I need thirty copies of these, collated and stapled. Can you help me or not?” I know I sound like a jerk, but I just can’t catch a break today.
The guy just rolls his eyes at me, letting my bitchy tone roll off his back. “Gimme,” he says as he snatches them from my hand.
I lean against the wall as he feeds the papers into the machine that he subsequently leans on. He’s facing me and that smirk is still there, and it’s annoying the crap out of me. It makes me want to grab those dumb black-rimmed glasses he has on and snap them in half. “Are all you accountants so uptight?”
I scoff. “Excuse me?”
He bites his lip, still smiling. “You heard me.”
“I am not uptight. I’ve just got a boss who’s riding my ass.”
He lets out a laugh and wiggles his eyebrows. “Really?”
My eyebrows dip down as a frown sets in, and I can feel heat rise to my cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.”
He laughs again. “You shouldn’t frown like that. You’ll get worry lines, and it’d be a shame to have those marring such a cute little face as yours.”
I gape at him because did he just hit on me? To increase my uneasiness, he moves away from the copier and walks right up to me, placing a hand next to me on the wall as he leans in. “You’re kind of hot, even though you’re a bit of a dick. But that’s okay, I like that.” His face is mere inches away from mine, his voice low and husky. I stare down into his eyes for a few seconds, and then my brain starts functioning again.
I back out away from him. “Oh please,” I say in a disinterested tone. “Can I just get my papers?”
He moves from the wall, still smirking at me despite the rejection. “Only if you tell me your name. I’m Brendon, by the way.”
I walk over to the copy machine and take the papers from the tray before he can get in the way. “Bye, Brendon,” I say, giving him a triumphant smile as I head out the door.
It is only when the elevator doors close that I allow myself to let out a relieved sigh.
--------------------------
“Jeez, Ryan. What’s wrong with you?” Jon says as I collapse on the couch next to him and give a frustrated groan. At least it’s Friday.
I mumble into a couch cushion, trying to rub the day I had out of my head. Jon laughs. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.”
I sit up and remove the jacket of my suit and toss it on the arm of the couch. “I said, ‘Work’s getting to me.’”
“Aw, what’s up?” Jon asks, concerned. “Is Wentz hassling you? Or did that copy boy hit on you again?”
I sigh, remembering how much Jon laughed when I told him about the incident last week. “No, I haven’t seen him again, thank God. It’s just a general frustration with work. I mean, all these deadlines, and Patrick hinted about something going on with the investors. I’m just really stressed out.”
Jon hits me playfully on the back. “Well, let’s get you un-stressed out.”
“What?” I ask, suspicious of his words. “Jon, whatever you’re thinking, don’t think it. I just want to stay home, watch some TV, and veg out on the couch.”
“No,” Jon says, and there’s the gleam in his eye that I was afraid of. “We’re going out. I’m taking you to a club.”
“A club?” I groan into the cushion. “Jon, I don’t really want to sit around and watch you pick up girls.”
He shakes his head, laughing. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
It takes Jon twenty more minutes to get me off the couch, thirty minutes to get me dressed and ready, and ten more to get us out the door.
---------------------
The music is too loud for my taste, the bass of the techno beat heavy against my heart. Jon leads me towards the bar, and we get up against the counter and wait for the bartender to come by us.
“Two beers,” Jon says to him. I take mine and turn around, surveying the dance floor. Most of the girls are almost too slutty, and the guys dance behind them, desperate to get laid tonight.
“When does this start being fun?” I ask him. When I turn to him, I can see him eyeing a pretty girl down further. She’s got a crown on her head and her friends are buying her drinks. It appears to be her birthday. I hit him on the shoulder to call back his attention. “Jon!”
“I’ll be right back. You have fun,” he tells me distractedly as I watch him put his game face on and walk over to the girl. I sigh exasperatedly because I knew that would happen.
I turn around to the bar to grab a cocktail napkin, and when I turn back, a hand has wrapped itself around my wrist, tugging me away forcefully. “What the fuck?” I say, but my voice is lost in the loud music.
The hand pulls me towards the body it’s attached to, and finally, I can take a look at the person who’s holding me hostage. “Oh, Jesus,” I say as I realize who it is. I mean, the dorky glasses are gone, and the button-down and black slacks have been replaced with a tight shirt and even tighter jeans, but I know who he is.
“No. Brendon,” he says with that smirk of his as he tries to pull me closer.
I struggle against him, though it’s difficult because I still have my beer in my hand. “I know you like me,” Brendon says in my ear, his lips grazing my neck and sending shivers through my body. “I saw you checking me out last week. Dance with me.”
Finally, I manage to pull away from him and attempt to compose myself. “God, leave me alone,” I say, but he’s still smirking at me, and it’s driving me crazy.
“You don’t mean that,” he says, and he’s up against me again, this time moving along with the music with his arms around my waist.
And then I think ‘fuck it’ because he’s hot, and I need to unwind. My arm hooks around his neck loosely, and I move along with him. Brendon starts chuckling because he knows he’s won.
He leans in to speak in my ear again. “What’s your name?”
I dance some more and pull him close. “Ryan.”
----------------------
“What happened to your friend?” Brendon asks. We’re sitting outside the late-night burger place just down the street from the club, and frankly, it’s more my scene.
I douse my fries with ketchup. “Jon? I don’t know, probably getting laid by the birthday girl.”
He laughs into his food, and I smile at him and the mustard that’s appeared on his cheek. He catches me and gives me a wink as he says, “I knew you liked me.”
“Fuck, you’re so arrogant, Brendon.” I say it with an amused chuckle, and he gives me a strange look.
Brendon steals one of my fries and says, “Huh, maybe it’s force of habit.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, not bothering to tell him about the mustard.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe you just bring it out in me. You kept rejecting me, and I’m not used to that.”
I grab a napkin and finally wipe the mustard from his face. He’s smiling at me, not smirking, and there’s a twinkle in his eye that practically knocks the wind out of me. My eyes are on him, and he’s staring right back at me until I clear my throat and get back to my food.
When we’re done, he walks the five blocks to my apartment with me. We’re outside, and I’m sure he’s about to kiss me. Instead, he just whispers “Goodnight”, hangs his head, and walks away.
I’m confused. He’s been nothing but forward, and now, he’s shy? “Wait, Brendon!” I say before I can stop myself.
He turns around, and there’s a look of vulnerability there that I’ve never seen before. “Yeah?”
“I just… um…” I mumble, and I realize my legs are moving of their own accord. Suddenly, we’re standing close together, my hand at the side of his head. “You forgot something,” I tell him, and I lean in and kiss him. It’s not forceful or rushed, like I thought it would be, but soft and languid. His lips taste even better than I thought they would, and when he pulls back, it’s sooner than I’d like.
“You like me,” he says, the smirk back on his face.
I laugh. “Well, duh.” I nod towards my window a couple of floors up. “Are you coming up or what?”
-----------------------
Before I know it, it’s Monday, and I’ve got the case of the blues. The night with Brendon was unbelievable, but the good feeling that he’d brought left when he did while I was asleep. He didn’t leave a note or wake me up to say goodbye. I really didn’t think I was that bad. I have to say, it hurt more than it should have, but maybe I like him more than I’d been willing to admit.
When I get up the elevator to my desk on the fifth floor, I pause and stare at the paper flower resting on top of it. I sit in my chair and pick up the origami flower, gently twirling it between my fingers.
“Who’s that from?”
I jump a little and turn in my chair. “Oh hey, Patrick.”
“An office affair?” Patrick winks at me genially.
I chuckle nervously. “Not exactly.”
“Just don’t have sex on my desk. Or anywhere in my office for that matter,” he says.
I’m stunned. “Patrick! Aren’t you supposed to be my boss?”
He shrugs. “You’re young, you work hard. Keep quiet around Wentz, though. He’s stressed about one of the big investors coming by later. Oh shit, there he is.”
I follow Patrick’s gaze and see Mr. Wentz and a bunch of the other higher-ups trailing a man in a very expensive looking suit. I watch him pull out a handkerchief and cough loudly into it before making a note into his leather-bound notebook. They disappear into a conference room, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Christ,” Patrick says, “this is so stressful. You know, that guy owns like a third of the company, and rumor has it that he’s going to be firing a bunch of people and rearranging this whole department.”
“Shit,” I mutter.
He pats me on the back. “Don’t worry too much about it, Ryan. Just keep doing good work like you’ve been doing.” He picks up the paper flower on my desk, examines it for a bit, and then hands it to me before heading to his office.
I put the flower down and glance over to the conference room door before I make my way to the elevators. When I get to the copy room, I let myself in quietly and find Brendon at his desk with his head down on it.
As I walk further in, Brendon lifts his head up from the desk and gives me a relieved smile. “Well, well. I was not expecting you.”
“Who were you expecting?” I say, giving him a flirty smile back.
He gets up from behind the desk, and I think he’s approaching me, but I watch him walk right by me to the door. He quickly turns the lock on it and turns to me. “Someone way less hot,” he says as he brings an arm around me. He tilts his head and captures my lips in a kiss, and with every movement, he reels me in even more. His tongue slides in, and I hear him moan against my mouth, driving me crazy.
“Brendon,” I whisper against his lips as I pull away a little.
“Hmm, Ryan,” and my name on his lips as he’s breathing like that drives me even crazier. “Fuck me.”
I pull away. “What?”
He smirks at me. “I know you’ve been wanting to fuck me against one of these copiers ever since you’ve seen me.”
My eyes widen, and I swallow my nerves down. “I-I-I can’t. Brendon, we’re at work.”
He scoffs. “Oh please, Ryan. The door’s locked, and it’s early anyway.” Brendon pushes up against me for good measure, backing me into one of the copiers. I can feel his forming erection against my leg as he nips at my neck, his hand slipping down to unbutton my suit jacket. I’m fighting a losing battle as my mind wanders away from “You’re going to get fired” to “BrendonBrendonBrendon”.
Somehow, my jacket has slipped off my shoulders to pool at my feet. Normally, I’d be worried about wrinkles, but how could I possibly be worried about that while Brendon is bruising the skin on my neck while skillfully loosening my tie at the same time? My hands wander down to his hips, then around to cup his ass and pull him even closer. He moves up to kiss me again, and those lips are making me do things I shouldn't, like tugging his shirt from his pants.
My hands travel up under his shirt to feel the softness of Brendon’s skin at my fingertips. An electrifying feeling travels up my arms, and I begin to kiss back with more gusto. We’re traveling, our mouths still attached, and suddenly, I hear a rattling behind him and an “hmmph” as his back hits one of the copiers. We break apart, the two of us chuckling, and Brendon leans forward to whisper, “You can, you know. We just need to be quick.”
I’m torn. Really, I am. “Brendon…”
And then it’s a tilt of the head and plump lips on mine, and all reservations I had are out the window, especially when he’s made my mind up for me by nimbly unbuttoning my shirt with my tie still hanging around my collar. I can only be bothered with unbuttoning a few buttons on his shirt until my hands fly to his belt.
“Are you sure, Brendon?” I ask as it clangs open. “Just because we don’t have any lube or anything. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”
Brendon reaches up and twists his fingers into my hair. “You’re cute. It’s okay, Ryan. I’ve got Vaseline in the top drawer.” I give him a look. “Hey, I get chapped lips!”
I chuckle as I back up towards his desk and lean over it to pull the tub out from the drawer. When I approach him again, Brendon pulls me toward him, and I lose my footing, stumbling a little into his embrace.
He smirks that infuriating smirk at me and then cheekily turns around to grip the copier as best as he can. I come up behind him to his exposed neck, and I bite down a little before reaching around to finish undoing his pants.
I pull his boxers down with his pants, and I feel slight pressure at my crotch as Brendon leans forward to stick his bare ass out to rub against my erection. “Fuck, Brendon,” I say before wrapping my arm around him to pull him flush against me and to grasp his hard cock firmly in my hand.
A few deft strokes, and I hear moans emanate from the body against mine. “Shh,” I remind him, and I can tell he’s using all his willpower to keep quiet.
I let go soon and back up. I pull him with me so that he’s leaning forward again with his ass out, though this time it’s to a greater degree, and I’m further away, partly because I need room to work and partly because I like the view. “Stay,” I mutter as I open the tub of Vaseline.
“What am I, your dog?” he asks insolently even though he seems to be following orders since he hasn’t moved.
I’m not sure where I’ve gotten the confidence, but I reach out and smack his ass, causing him to grunt a bit. “No, Hobo is way more obedient than you. But at this point in time, you’re my bitch, and you know it.”
He turns his head to look at me as I dip my fingers in the tub and that goddamn smirk is back on his face. “That’s only because I like being your bitch.”
I come up behind him, my coated fingers dragging lightly between his ass cheeks. My fingers find his entrance and rest there for a couple of seconds, and I hear an unmistakable whine come from the man in front of me. Finally, I push in with two fingers, and Brendon grunts as he leans forward even more, shuffling his feet back so he’s bent at a more acute angle.
“Ah, Ryan,” he gasps as my fingers move in and out, curling a bit as I attempt to find that sweet spot that’ll wipe that smirk completely off his face. Sure enough, my fingers graze something firm, and a moan falls from his lips.
I shush him again, completely proud of my handiwork, and I begin to stretch him as quickly as I can.
When I think he’s ready, I withdraw my fingers, grab a sheet of paper from the copy machine in front of me to wipe the Vaseline off, and reach into my back pocket to pull a condom out of my wallet. I quickly undo my belt and the button and zipper of my pants, and when I look up as I tear the condom wrapper open, I see Brendon hungrily watching me, still bent over the copier. My pants slide down to my knees, and I shove my boxers down enough to free my hard cock. I roll the condom on, and this time when I look up, I’m met with the obscene image of Brendon licking his lips, causing me to briefly forget what I was doing. I shake my head to release myself from the stupor, and Brendon laughs.
I give him a vindictive look as I rub Vaseline onto my cock and step forward. I tease him for a bit, rubbing the head of my cock in between his ass cheeks, and then I slide in with a grunt as the feeling of Brendon so tight around me is almost enough to make me come right there. Then Brendon lets out a barely suppressed moan, and I can’t take it anymore. I need to hear more of that.
I grasp his hips as I pull him closer and make my way further inside with every thrust. My tie is still hanging from my neck, and my open shirt is flapping with every in-and-out motion. I lift one hand from his hips, keeping the other where it is to hold him steady, and snake it up the back of his shirt and around so I can touch the smooth, slick skin of his back and torso.
I move closer to him until I’m practically draped over his frame, though I have enough sense not to put too much weight on him since I don’t want to kill him. He’s become a moaning mess beneath me, and I result to resting his forehead against his arm as he grips the copier beneath him with the other hand to hold us in place. “Ungh, Ryan,” I hear him say, his voice higher than normal. The words are muffled, but the sound of them is driving me crazy.
The hand pulling him close travels down until it grasps his leaking cock, and I lean forward to whisper in his ear as I stroke it, “You’re so fucking right, Brendon. I want you. I want you to moan and say my name when you come. Can you do that?”
He nods quickly at my words, and I wonder briefly when I got the upper hand. Briefly, because my mind is growing hazy as the desires to get off and to get Brendon off become my only objectives. My hand flies over his cock at the rhythm with which I pound into him, but I’m getting sloppier and sloppier as I go on.
Suddenly, I feel the body beneath me tense up, and I look to see Brendon’s grip on the copier becoming death-like. Then it’s two more pumps, and he’s coming all over my hand, and a low, guttural moan emanates from Brendon’s throat followed by a raspy “Ryan, fuck.”
His muscles are clenching around my dick, and all of it is enough to push me over the edge. I barely thrust in more, and I’m coming, waves of pure ecstasy taking over me. My knees are weak, but I manage not to collapse on Brendon, only just pulling him a little against me so I can feel him close as I ride out my orgasm.
“Brendon,” I whisper, still panting as I try to catch my breath.
He’s breathing deeply beneath me, and I have enough sense to let him go so that I can pull out of him and let him stand upright while I take the condom off and throw it in the trash. Once I do, though, Brendon has turned around, and he’s kissing me so deeply and passionately that, when he pulls away, I almost want to follow him.
Brendon pulls up his pants, a signal for me that I should do the same, and we both try our best to sort out our clothes by buttoning buttons and tucking in shirts. When it comes to my tie, however, Brendon has moved forward to tie it himself, concentrating all the way until he’s got it up to my collar. His eyes find mine, and he smiles a sweet smile, and I can feel myself melting at the sight.
He reaches over to his desk and picks up a comb that he runs through my hair as he attempts to fix it. Then he runs it through his own hair as I pick up the slightly wrinkled jacket of my suit and put it on.
I’m waiting for some awkward “Well, thanks for the fuck” kind of comment, but it doesn’t happen. Brendon just leans forward and kisses me, and it’s a lot softer and sweeter than I’m expecting.
“Before you go,” Brendon says quietly as he leans over to his desk and scribbles something on a post-it, “here’s my number.” He hands it to me and then winks. “I want to go out with you.”
I chuckle as I take it from him. “Definitely,” I tell him because, Christ, I want to see Brendon again. Everyday. Forever.
I glance towards the door, then back at him, and I shrug. “I guess it’s time to get back to work.”
He laughs. “Yeah, another hard day at the office, working for the man.” Brendon winks at me, and I can’t help the flush of my cheeks as I make my way as quickly as possible back to my desk.
-----------------
I hear a knock at the door, and I sigh as I get up and abandon my book and Earl Grey, assuming that Jon has forgotten his keys for the millionth time. When I open it, I’m shocked to find Brendon, and it takes me a minute to make sure that, no, we didn’t have a date set for tonight, though the last three have been wonderful. And then I scan his face, and it’s not the Brendon I’m used to. He looks sad and dejected, and when I look into Brendon’s eyes, I see something in them that makes me want to reach out and hug him.
“Brendon?” I say quietly, and he gives me a weak smile.
“Hey,” he says, and his voice is a bit hoarse. “Can I come in?”
I step back and open the door. “Of course.”
He walks inside slowly, and I shut the door behind him and gesture towards the couch for him to take a seat. I sit down next to him, and silence passes over us in a way that makes me feel like I should say something. “Are you okay, Brendon?”
He glances at me, and I tentatively place a hand on his arm. At that, he lets out a breath, and I can feel his muscles relax. His whole body begins to curl into me until his head is tucked under mine and resting on my shoulder. His hand rests on my chest, and I keep him in place in my embrace. “I’m just freaking out,” Brendon mutters into my neck.
“About what?” I ask gently.
“I’ve got a new job with a lot more responsibilities. I won’t be working in the copy room anymore.”
“Oh,” I say, trying not to sound too disappointed.
“It’s just… It’s scary because it feels like I’m finally growing up.”
I run my fingers through his hair, and he closes his eyes. “I’m glad I came to you,” he whispers. “I like how you feel.”
I smile and lean back, pulling him on top of me as I lie down on the couch. Soon enough, his breathing has evened out as he’s fallen asleep while I follow closely behind him.
---------------------
I look up to find Patrick approaching my desk, and I set my pen down carefully. “Ryan!” he says, and he seems nervous.
“Yeah, boss?” I say facetiously, causing him to roll his eyes.
“Heads up, I just found out what’s gotten Wentz’s panties in a twist.” I chuckle at the image of Mr. Wentz in panties and nod to tell him to go on. “Turns out that that investor is retiring and letting his son take over responsibilities. Can you imagine? Some twenty-one year old rich kid is going to have control over this company. He’s going to be a lot more involved too, even has an office set up on the eighth floor.”
My eyes widen. “So basically, Wentz has to take orders from someone who’s even younger than me?”
“Ha, pretty much,” Patrick says. “He actually has to show the guy around the office today.”
With that, Patrick’s phone starts to vibrate in his jacket pocket, and when he answers it, I can tell he’s talking to Mr. Wentz.
“Okay. Alright… Bye,” he says when he hangs up. “They’ll be up in five. You better look like you’re working,” he tells me and rushes off to his office.
I clear my desk of any mess as quickly as I can and bring up my current project on the computer just as I hear the elevator ding, and Mr. Wentz’s voice sounds throughout the office as he talks a mile a minute about the responsibilities of the department. I do my best to not look up from my computer so that it seems like I’m actually hard at work.
“We’re currently working on future investment decisions for the company. In this department, we -” I hear him say, and I can tell that he is near my desk since I can see him gesturing out of the corner of my eye.
I turn my head just a little to steal a glance, but then I do a double-take because I seriously cannot believe my eyes. I move my head at a more obvious angle, and this time I’m staring.
“Brendon?” I say quietly, hardly aware that I even said anything at all.
Mr. Wentz pauses his oration as he turns to glare at me, and the man in the suit next to him looks at me as well. And yes, it is Brendon, and there’s a hint of the usual smirk in his eyes.
“Ross, this is Mr. Urie,” Wentz says in a tone that indicates the he disapproves of my informal address.
I’m speechless since all I can do is gape at him, and I can tell that Brendon is loving the shock on my face. Soon, Wentz is dragging Brendon away from me, obviously afraid that I’ll be a bad reflection on him.
For the next fifteen minutes, Wentz shows Brendon around the floor, going in and out of various supervisors’ offices and explaining to him why exactly Brendon shouldn’t decide to get rid of his department.
After he’s ushered Brendon into the elevator, Mr. Wentz makes his way over to my desk with an agitated look on his face. “Mr. Urie said that he wanted to see you in his office.”
I clear my throat. “Oh?”
“Yeah, now. Eighth floor, down the hall and to the left.”
“Um, okay,” I say, and I get up as quickly as I can.
I follow Wentz’s direction until I come across a desk with a young woman behind it. “I’m, uh, here to see… Mr. Urie,” I tell Brendon’s secretary.
“Mr. Ross?” she asks, and I nod. “Go right in.”
I enter quietly to find Brendon leaning back in a large, leather chair behind his desk with his feet propped up onto it. Now that’s more like the Brendon I know. “Lock the door,” he says, and I do so.
“So this is what you meant by more responsibilities?” I say as I gesture to his inappropriate posture and cushy office. He shrugs and makes a face like he knows that he is too cute to do anything wrong.
I start to laugh. “Then why were you working in the fucking copy room?”
Brendon shrugs again. “My dad thought I had it too easy. It was supposed to build character or some shit like that.”
“Spending your workdays getting fucked against a copier is supposed to build character?” I ask jokingly.
“Hey, that’s not all I did!” I raise my eyebrows, and he winks at me. “I photocopied my ass a bunch of times too.”
At that, I crack up so hard that I don’t sense Brendon getting up from his chair and approaching me until he is right up against me. He tilts his head up and kisses me, bringing an arm around my waist to pull me into him even more. His knee moves up until it rests against my crotch, and I involuntarily grind against it. When he pulls away, he’s got an impish grin on his face.
“I know you’ve been wanting to fuck me against my desk ever since you walked into this office,” he says huskily.
I laugh at the familiarity of that statement, and I tug Brendon closer by his belt buckle. “Fuck, yeah.”
Author: spazzyskittles/Tiffany
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
POV: 1st person POV, Ryan’s
Summary: This is the one where Ryan’s an accountant and Brendon’s a copy boy.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Panic at the Disco or Fall Out Boy. This story is a work of fiction and has never and will never happen. It is just a product of my overactive imagination.
A/N: This was written as a birthday present for buildyourwalls because I adore her. We are definitely MFEO. Happy birthday, bb! Thanks to my beta, pinkkchocolate, who should think of this story whenever she runs out of paper.
"Ross!" I wince slightly as the source of that harsh and hurried tone approaches me. I straighten out my face just in time to look up from my desk and see my supervisor's supervisor frowning at me.
"Yes, Mr. Wentz?" I say with fake cheerfulness in my voice. Unlike my direct supervisor, Patrick, who is more like a friend than a boss, Mr. Wentz had deemed it too casual to go by first names.
"Where's your write-up of the annual report that you were supposed to look over? We need your analysis by the end of the day!" He gestures wildly at me, and I have to use all my willpower to refrain from rolling my eyes at him.
I give him what I think is a placating smile and say, “It’s done. I just have to run off a few copies before I turn them into Patrick.”
It seems to have worked since his frown has become a lot less noticeable, but I guess he doesn’t want to let me off the hook so easily because he responds, “Well, what are you doing here then? Go do it!” Mr. Wentz then turns on his heel and stalks off to his office.
I let out the sigh and eye-roll that I’d been keeping in and gather my papers to head down the hall to the copy machine. When I get there, my face falls when I see a sign on it that reads “Out of Order”.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter under my breath.
“Whoa there, Ryan.”
I turn my head and see my boss smiling jovially at me. “Hey, Patrick. Sorry, Wentz came by my desk and was freaking out about getting these in,” I say as I gesture to the papers in my hand.
He claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, man,” Patrick says. “You can go down to the copy room on the third floor. It’s mainly for making a ton of copies, but I’m sure they’ll let you use the copiers there if ours is broken.”
I sigh, relieved. “Thanks so much, Patrick. I’ll go down there right now.”
I make my way to the elevator and down two floors. After asking a hassled looking assistant to point the way, I head down to the copy room. I pull the door open, and I raise my eyebrows at the sight in front of me.
An ass is waving at me as its owner leans next to a copier, audibly grunting as he reaches for something. I stand quietly, just staring with my mouth hanging slightly open.
“Ah-ha, gotcha!” the man says as he pulls out a piece of paper. He whips around, and I have to shake my head to break my stare. I close my mouth, and the guy tilts his head and smirks at me. “Can I help you?” he asks.
I clear my throat, making sure to keep my voice low with a bored tone because he may be hot but so are a lot of people. “Yeah, um, I kind of need to make a few copies of these.”
He approaches me and leans over to look at the documents in my hand. “Don’t you accountants have a copy machine on the fifth floor?” He’s got this tone in his voice. It’s confident, bordering on arrogant, and it causes me to roll my eyes. What the fuck does he have to be arrogant about? He’s a fucking copy boy. He spends his days worrying about toner levels and un-jamming paper jams.
I give him a slightly annoyed look. “It’s broken. I need thirty copies of these, collated and stapled. Can you help me or not?” I know I sound like a jerk, but I just can’t catch a break today.
The guy just rolls his eyes at me, letting my bitchy tone roll off his back. “Gimme,” he says as he snatches them from my hand.
I lean against the wall as he feeds the papers into the machine that he subsequently leans on. He’s facing me and that smirk is still there, and it’s annoying the crap out of me. It makes me want to grab those dumb black-rimmed glasses he has on and snap them in half. “Are all you accountants so uptight?”
I scoff. “Excuse me?”
He bites his lip, still smiling. “You heard me.”
“I am not uptight. I’ve just got a boss who’s riding my ass.”
He lets out a laugh and wiggles his eyebrows. “Really?”
My eyebrows dip down as a frown sets in, and I can feel heat rise to my cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.”
He laughs again. “You shouldn’t frown like that. You’ll get worry lines, and it’d be a shame to have those marring such a cute little face as yours.”
I gape at him because did he just hit on me? To increase my uneasiness, he moves away from the copier and walks right up to me, placing a hand next to me on the wall as he leans in. “You’re kind of hot, even though you’re a bit of a dick. But that’s okay, I like that.” His face is mere inches away from mine, his voice low and husky. I stare down into his eyes for a few seconds, and then my brain starts functioning again.
I back out away from him. “Oh please,” I say in a disinterested tone. “Can I just get my papers?”
He moves from the wall, still smirking at me despite the rejection. “Only if you tell me your name. I’m Brendon, by the way.”
I walk over to the copy machine and take the papers from the tray before he can get in the way. “Bye, Brendon,” I say, giving him a triumphant smile as I head out the door.
It is only when the elevator doors close that I allow myself to let out a relieved sigh.
--------------------------
“Jeez, Ryan. What’s wrong with you?” Jon says as I collapse on the couch next to him and give a frustrated groan. At least it’s Friday.
I mumble into a couch cushion, trying to rub the day I had out of my head. Jon laughs. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.”
I sit up and remove the jacket of my suit and toss it on the arm of the couch. “I said, ‘Work’s getting to me.’”
“Aw, what’s up?” Jon asks, concerned. “Is Wentz hassling you? Or did that copy boy hit on you again?”
I sigh, remembering how much Jon laughed when I told him about the incident last week. “No, I haven’t seen him again, thank God. It’s just a general frustration with work. I mean, all these deadlines, and Patrick hinted about something going on with the investors. I’m just really stressed out.”
Jon hits me playfully on the back. “Well, let’s get you un-stressed out.”
“What?” I ask, suspicious of his words. “Jon, whatever you’re thinking, don’t think it. I just want to stay home, watch some TV, and veg out on the couch.”
“No,” Jon says, and there’s the gleam in his eye that I was afraid of. “We’re going out. I’m taking you to a club.”
“A club?” I groan into the cushion. “Jon, I don’t really want to sit around and watch you pick up girls.”
He shakes his head, laughing. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
It takes Jon twenty more minutes to get me off the couch, thirty minutes to get me dressed and ready, and ten more to get us out the door.
---------------------
The music is too loud for my taste, the bass of the techno beat heavy against my heart. Jon leads me towards the bar, and we get up against the counter and wait for the bartender to come by us.
“Two beers,” Jon says to him. I take mine and turn around, surveying the dance floor. Most of the girls are almost too slutty, and the guys dance behind them, desperate to get laid tonight.
“When does this start being fun?” I ask him. When I turn to him, I can see him eyeing a pretty girl down further. She’s got a crown on her head and her friends are buying her drinks. It appears to be her birthday. I hit him on the shoulder to call back his attention. “Jon!”
“I’ll be right back. You have fun,” he tells me distractedly as I watch him put his game face on and walk over to the girl. I sigh exasperatedly because I knew that would happen.
I turn around to the bar to grab a cocktail napkin, and when I turn back, a hand has wrapped itself around my wrist, tugging me away forcefully. “What the fuck?” I say, but my voice is lost in the loud music.
The hand pulls me towards the body it’s attached to, and finally, I can take a look at the person who’s holding me hostage. “Oh, Jesus,” I say as I realize who it is. I mean, the dorky glasses are gone, and the button-down and black slacks have been replaced with a tight shirt and even tighter jeans, but I know who he is.
“No. Brendon,” he says with that smirk of his as he tries to pull me closer.
I struggle against him, though it’s difficult because I still have my beer in my hand. “I know you like me,” Brendon says in my ear, his lips grazing my neck and sending shivers through my body. “I saw you checking me out last week. Dance with me.”
Finally, I manage to pull away from him and attempt to compose myself. “God, leave me alone,” I say, but he’s still smirking at me, and it’s driving me crazy.
“You don’t mean that,” he says, and he’s up against me again, this time moving along with the music with his arms around my waist.
And then I think ‘fuck it’ because he’s hot, and I need to unwind. My arm hooks around his neck loosely, and I move along with him. Brendon starts chuckling because he knows he’s won.
He leans in to speak in my ear again. “What’s your name?”
I dance some more and pull him close. “Ryan.”
----------------------
“What happened to your friend?” Brendon asks. We’re sitting outside the late-night burger place just down the street from the club, and frankly, it’s more my scene.
I douse my fries with ketchup. “Jon? I don’t know, probably getting laid by the birthday girl.”
He laughs into his food, and I smile at him and the mustard that’s appeared on his cheek. He catches me and gives me a wink as he says, “I knew you liked me.”
“Fuck, you’re so arrogant, Brendon.” I say it with an amused chuckle, and he gives me a strange look.
Brendon steals one of my fries and says, “Huh, maybe it’s force of habit.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, not bothering to tell him about the mustard.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe you just bring it out in me. You kept rejecting me, and I’m not used to that.”
I grab a napkin and finally wipe the mustard from his face. He’s smiling at me, not smirking, and there’s a twinkle in his eye that practically knocks the wind out of me. My eyes are on him, and he’s staring right back at me until I clear my throat and get back to my food.
When we’re done, he walks the five blocks to my apartment with me. We’re outside, and I’m sure he’s about to kiss me. Instead, he just whispers “Goodnight”, hangs his head, and walks away.
I’m confused. He’s been nothing but forward, and now, he’s shy? “Wait, Brendon!” I say before I can stop myself.
He turns around, and there’s a look of vulnerability there that I’ve never seen before. “Yeah?”
“I just… um…” I mumble, and I realize my legs are moving of their own accord. Suddenly, we’re standing close together, my hand at the side of his head. “You forgot something,” I tell him, and I lean in and kiss him. It’s not forceful or rushed, like I thought it would be, but soft and languid. His lips taste even better than I thought they would, and when he pulls back, it’s sooner than I’d like.
“You like me,” he says, the smirk back on his face.
I laugh. “Well, duh.” I nod towards my window a couple of floors up. “Are you coming up or what?”
-----------------------
Before I know it, it’s Monday, and I’ve got the case of the blues. The night with Brendon was unbelievable, but the good feeling that he’d brought left when he did while I was asleep. He didn’t leave a note or wake me up to say goodbye. I really didn’t think I was that bad. I have to say, it hurt more than it should have, but maybe I like him more than I’d been willing to admit.
When I get up the elevator to my desk on the fifth floor, I pause and stare at the paper flower resting on top of it. I sit in my chair and pick up the origami flower, gently twirling it between my fingers.
“Who’s that from?”
I jump a little and turn in my chair. “Oh hey, Patrick.”
“An office affair?” Patrick winks at me genially.
I chuckle nervously. “Not exactly.”
“Just don’t have sex on my desk. Or anywhere in my office for that matter,” he says.
I’m stunned. “Patrick! Aren’t you supposed to be my boss?”
He shrugs. “You’re young, you work hard. Keep quiet around Wentz, though. He’s stressed about one of the big investors coming by later. Oh shit, there he is.”
I follow Patrick’s gaze and see Mr. Wentz and a bunch of the other higher-ups trailing a man in a very expensive looking suit. I watch him pull out a handkerchief and cough loudly into it before making a note into his leather-bound notebook. They disappear into a conference room, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Christ,” Patrick says, “this is so stressful. You know, that guy owns like a third of the company, and rumor has it that he’s going to be firing a bunch of people and rearranging this whole department.”
“Shit,” I mutter.
He pats me on the back. “Don’t worry too much about it, Ryan. Just keep doing good work like you’ve been doing.” He picks up the paper flower on my desk, examines it for a bit, and then hands it to me before heading to his office.
I put the flower down and glance over to the conference room door before I make my way to the elevators. When I get to the copy room, I let myself in quietly and find Brendon at his desk with his head down on it.
As I walk further in, Brendon lifts his head up from the desk and gives me a relieved smile. “Well, well. I was not expecting you.”
“Who were you expecting?” I say, giving him a flirty smile back.
He gets up from behind the desk, and I think he’s approaching me, but I watch him walk right by me to the door. He quickly turns the lock on it and turns to me. “Someone way less hot,” he says as he brings an arm around me. He tilts his head and captures my lips in a kiss, and with every movement, he reels me in even more. His tongue slides in, and I hear him moan against my mouth, driving me crazy.
“Brendon,” I whisper against his lips as I pull away a little.
“Hmm, Ryan,” and my name on his lips as he’s breathing like that drives me even crazier. “Fuck me.”
I pull away. “What?”
He smirks at me. “I know you’ve been wanting to fuck me against one of these copiers ever since you’ve seen me.”
My eyes widen, and I swallow my nerves down. “I-I-I can’t. Brendon, we’re at work.”
He scoffs. “Oh please, Ryan. The door’s locked, and it’s early anyway.” Brendon pushes up against me for good measure, backing me into one of the copiers. I can feel his forming erection against my leg as he nips at my neck, his hand slipping down to unbutton my suit jacket. I’m fighting a losing battle as my mind wanders away from “You’re going to get fired” to “BrendonBrendonBrendon”.
Somehow, my jacket has slipped off my shoulders to pool at my feet. Normally, I’d be worried about wrinkles, but how could I possibly be worried about that while Brendon is bruising the skin on my neck while skillfully loosening my tie at the same time? My hands wander down to his hips, then around to cup his ass and pull him even closer. He moves up to kiss me again, and those lips are making me do things I shouldn't, like tugging his shirt from his pants.
My hands travel up under his shirt to feel the softness of Brendon’s skin at my fingertips. An electrifying feeling travels up my arms, and I begin to kiss back with more gusto. We’re traveling, our mouths still attached, and suddenly, I hear a rattling behind him and an “hmmph” as his back hits one of the copiers. We break apart, the two of us chuckling, and Brendon leans forward to whisper, “You can, you know. We just need to be quick.”
I’m torn. Really, I am. “Brendon…”
And then it’s a tilt of the head and plump lips on mine, and all reservations I had are out the window, especially when he’s made my mind up for me by nimbly unbuttoning my shirt with my tie still hanging around my collar. I can only be bothered with unbuttoning a few buttons on his shirt until my hands fly to his belt.
“Are you sure, Brendon?” I ask as it clangs open. “Just because we don’t have any lube or anything. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”
Brendon reaches up and twists his fingers into my hair. “You’re cute. It’s okay, Ryan. I’ve got Vaseline in the top drawer.” I give him a look. “Hey, I get chapped lips!”
I chuckle as I back up towards his desk and lean over it to pull the tub out from the drawer. When I approach him again, Brendon pulls me toward him, and I lose my footing, stumbling a little into his embrace.
He smirks that infuriating smirk at me and then cheekily turns around to grip the copier as best as he can. I come up behind him to his exposed neck, and I bite down a little before reaching around to finish undoing his pants.
I pull his boxers down with his pants, and I feel slight pressure at my crotch as Brendon leans forward to stick his bare ass out to rub against my erection. “Fuck, Brendon,” I say before wrapping my arm around him to pull him flush against me and to grasp his hard cock firmly in my hand.
A few deft strokes, and I hear moans emanate from the body against mine. “Shh,” I remind him, and I can tell he’s using all his willpower to keep quiet.
I let go soon and back up. I pull him with me so that he’s leaning forward again with his ass out, though this time it’s to a greater degree, and I’m further away, partly because I need room to work and partly because I like the view. “Stay,” I mutter as I open the tub of Vaseline.
“What am I, your dog?” he asks insolently even though he seems to be following orders since he hasn’t moved.
I’m not sure where I’ve gotten the confidence, but I reach out and smack his ass, causing him to grunt a bit. “No, Hobo is way more obedient than you. But at this point in time, you’re my bitch, and you know it.”
He turns his head to look at me as I dip my fingers in the tub and that goddamn smirk is back on his face. “That’s only because I like being your bitch.”
I come up behind him, my coated fingers dragging lightly between his ass cheeks. My fingers find his entrance and rest there for a couple of seconds, and I hear an unmistakable whine come from the man in front of me. Finally, I push in with two fingers, and Brendon grunts as he leans forward even more, shuffling his feet back so he’s bent at a more acute angle.
“Ah, Ryan,” he gasps as my fingers move in and out, curling a bit as I attempt to find that sweet spot that’ll wipe that smirk completely off his face. Sure enough, my fingers graze something firm, and a moan falls from his lips.
I shush him again, completely proud of my handiwork, and I begin to stretch him as quickly as I can.
When I think he’s ready, I withdraw my fingers, grab a sheet of paper from the copy machine in front of me to wipe the Vaseline off, and reach into my back pocket to pull a condom out of my wallet. I quickly undo my belt and the button and zipper of my pants, and when I look up as I tear the condom wrapper open, I see Brendon hungrily watching me, still bent over the copier. My pants slide down to my knees, and I shove my boxers down enough to free my hard cock. I roll the condom on, and this time when I look up, I’m met with the obscene image of Brendon licking his lips, causing me to briefly forget what I was doing. I shake my head to release myself from the stupor, and Brendon laughs.
I give him a vindictive look as I rub Vaseline onto my cock and step forward. I tease him for a bit, rubbing the head of my cock in between his ass cheeks, and then I slide in with a grunt as the feeling of Brendon so tight around me is almost enough to make me come right there. Then Brendon lets out a barely suppressed moan, and I can’t take it anymore. I need to hear more of that.
I grasp his hips as I pull him closer and make my way further inside with every thrust. My tie is still hanging from my neck, and my open shirt is flapping with every in-and-out motion. I lift one hand from his hips, keeping the other where it is to hold him steady, and snake it up the back of his shirt and around so I can touch the smooth, slick skin of his back and torso.
I move closer to him until I’m practically draped over his frame, though I have enough sense not to put too much weight on him since I don’t want to kill him. He’s become a moaning mess beneath me, and I result to resting his forehead against his arm as he grips the copier beneath him with the other hand to hold us in place. “Ungh, Ryan,” I hear him say, his voice higher than normal. The words are muffled, but the sound of them is driving me crazy.
The hand pulling him close travels down until it grasps his leaking cock, and I lean forward to whisper in his ear as I stroke it, “You’re so fucking right, Brendon. I want you. I want you to moan and say my name when you come. Can you do that?”
He nods quickly at my words, and I wonder briefly when I got the upper hand. Briefly, because my mind is growing hazy as the desires to get off and to get Brendon off become my only objectives. My hand flies over his cock at the rhythm with which I pound into him, but I’m getting sloppier and sloppier as I go on.
Suddenly, I feel the body beneath me tense up, and I look to see Brendon’s grip on the copier becoming death-like. Then it’s two more pumps, and he’s coming all over my hand, and a low, guttural moan emanates from Brendon’s throat followed by a raspy “Ryan, fuck.”
His muscles are clenching around my dick, and all of it is enough to push me over the edge. I barely thrust in more, and I’m coming, waves of pure ecstasy taking over me. My knees are weak, but I manage not to collapse on Brendon, only just pulling him a little against me so I can feel him close as I ride out my orgasm.
“Brendon,” I whisper, still panting as I try to catch my breath.
He’s breathing deeply beneath me, and I have enough sense to let him go so that I can pull out of him and let him stand upright while I take the condom off and throw it in the trash. Once I do, though, Brendon has turned around, and he’s kissing me so deeply and passionately that, when he pulls away, I almost want to follow him.
Brendon pulls up his pants, a signal for me that I should do the same, and we both try our best to sort out our clothes by buttoning buttons and tucking in shirts. When it comes to my tie, however, Brendon has moved forward to tie it himself, concentrating all the way until he’s got it up to my collar. His eyes find mine, and he smiles a sweet smile, and I can feel myself melting at the sight.
He reaches over to his desk and picks up a comb that he runs through my hair as he attempts to fix it. Then he runs it through his own hair as I pick up the slightly wrinkled jacket of my suit and put it on.
I’m waiting for some awkward “Well, thanks for the fuck” kind of comment, but it doesn’t happen. Brendon just leans forward and kisses me, and it’s a lot softer and sweeter than I’m expecting.
“Before you go,” Brendon says quietly as he leans over to his desk and scribbles something on a post-it, “here’s my number.” He hands it to me and then winks. “I want to go out with you.”
I chuckle as I take it from him. “Definitely,” I tell him because, Christ, I want to see Brendon again. Everyday. Forever.
I glance towards the door, then back at him, and I shrug. “I guess it’s time to get back to work.”
He laughs. “Yeah, another hard day at the office, working for the man.” Brendon winks at me, and I can’t help the flush of my cheeks as I make my way as quickly as possible back to my desk.
-----------------
I hear a knock at the door, and I sigh as I get up and abandon my book and Earl Grey, assuming that Jon has forgotten his keys for the millionth time. When I open it, I’m shocked to find Brendon, and it takes me a minute to make sure that, no, we didn’t have a date set for tonight, though the last three have been wonderful. And then I scan his face, and it’s not the Brendon I’m used to. He looks sad and dejected, and when I look into Brendon’s eyes, I see something in them that makes me want to reach out and hug him.
“Brendon?” I say quietly, and he gives me a weak smile.
“Hey,” he says, and his voice is a bit hoarse. “Can I come in?”
I step back and open the door. “Of course.”
He walks inside slowly, and I shut the door behind him and gesture towards the couch for him to take a seat. I sit down next to him, and silence passes over us in a way that makes me feel like I should say something. “Are you okay, Brendon?”
He glances at me, and I tentatively place a hand on his arm. At that, he lets out a breath, and I can feel his muscles relax. His whole body begins to curl into me until his head is tucked under mine and resting on my shoulder. His hand rests on my chest, and I keep him in place in my embrace. “I’m just freaking out,” Brendon mutters into my neck.
“About what?” I ask gently.
“I’ve got a new job with a lot more responsibilities. I won’t be working in the copy room anymore.”
“Oh,” I say, trying not to sound too disappointed.
“It’s just… It’s scary because it feels like I’m finally growing up.”
I run my fingers through his hair, and he closes his eyes. “I’m glad I came to you,” he whispers. “I like how you feel.”
I smile and lean back, pulling him on top of me as I lie down on the couch. Soon enough, his breathing has evened out as he’s fallen asleep while I follow closely behind him.
---------------------
I look up to find Patrick approaching my desk, and I set my pen down carefully. “Ryan!” he says, and he seems nervous.
“Yeah, boss?” I say facetiously, causing him to roll his eyes.
“Heads up, I just found out what’s gotten Wentz’s panties in a twist.” I chuckle at the image of Mr. Wentz in panties and nod to tell him to go on. “Turns out that that investor is retiring and letting his son take over responsibilities. Can you imagine? Some twenty-one year old rich kid is going to have control over this company. He’s going to be a lot more involved too, even has an office set up on the eighth floor.”
My eyes widen. “So basically, Wentz has to take orders from someone who’s even younger than me?”
“Ha, pretty much,” Patrick says. “He actually has to show the guy around the office today.”
With that, Patrick’s phone starts to vibrate in his jacket pocket, and when he answers it, I can tell he’s talking to Mr. Wentz.
“Okay. Alright… Bye,” he says when he hangs up. “They’ll be up in five. You better look like you’re working,” he tells me and rushes off to his office.
I clear my desk of any mess as quickly as I can and bring up my current project on the computer just as I hear the elevator ding, and Mr. Wentz’s voice sounds throughout the office as he talks a mile a minute about the responsibilities of the department. I do my best to not look up from my computer so that it seems like I’m actually hard at work.
“We’re currently working on future investment decisions for the company. In this department, we -” I hear him say, and I can tell that he is near my desk since I can see him gesturing out of the corner of my eye.
I turn my head just a little to steal a glance, but then I do a double-take because I seriously cannot believe my eyes. I move my head at a more obvious angle, and this time I’m staring.
“Brendon?” I say quietly, hardly aware that I even said anything at all.
Mr. Wentz pauses his oration as he turns to glare at me, and the man in the suit next to him looks at me as well. And yes, it is Brendon, and there’s a hint of the usual smirk in his eyes.
“Ross, this is Mr. Urie,” Wentz says in a tone that indicates the he disapproves of my informal address.
I’m speechless since all I can do is gape at him, and I can tell that Brendon is loving the shock on my face. Soon, Wentz is dragging Brendon away from me, obviously afraid that I’ll be a bad reflection on him.
For the next fifteen minutes, Wentz shows Brendon around the floor, going in and out of various supervisors’ offices and explaining to him why exactly Brendon shouldn’t decide to get rid of his department.
After he’s ushered Brendon into the elevator, Mr. Wentz makes his way over to my desk with an agitated look on his face. “Mr. Urie said that he wanted to see you in his office.”
I clear my throat. “Oh?”
“Yeah, now. Eighth floor, down the hall and to the left.”
“Um, okay,” I say, and I get up as quickly as I can.
I follow Wentz’s direction until I come across a desk with a young woman behind it. “I’m, uh, here to see… Mr. Urie,” I tell Brendon’s secretary.
“Mr. Ross?” she asks, and I nod. “Go right in.”
I enter quietly to find Brendon leaning back in a large, leather chair behind his desk with his feet propped up onto it. Now that’s more like the Brendon I know. “Lock the door,” he says, and I do so.
“So this is what you meant by more responsibilities?” I say as I gesture to his inappropriate posture and cushy office. He shrugs and makes a face like he knows that he is too cute to do anything wrong.
I start to laugh. “Then why were you working in the fucking copy room?”
Brendon shrugs again. “My dad thought I had it too easy. It was supposed to build character or some shit like that.”
“Spending your workdays getting fucked against a copier is supposed to build character?” I ask jokingly.
“Hey, that’s not all I did!” I raise my eyebrows, and he winks at me. “I photocopied my ass a bunch of times too.”
At that, I crack up so hard that I don’t sense Brendon getting up from his chair and approaching me until he is right up against me. He tilts his head up and kisses me, bringing an arm around my waist to pull me into him even more. His knee moves up until it rests against my crotch, and I involuntarily grind against it. When he pulls away, he’s got an impish grin on his face.
“I know you’ve been wanting to fuck me against my desk ever since you walked into this office,” he says huskily.
I laugh at the familiarity of that statement, and I tug Brendon closer by his belt buckle. “Fuck, yeah.”