Between a Rock and a Hard Place
Title: Between a Rock and a Hard Place
Word Count: 2,015
Synopsis: Gumshoe finds himself in a sticky situation, and help arrives from an unexpected quarter.
The window shouldn't have been open anyway. That's what Mr. Edgeworth would have said. But why install an airconditioning unit if it wasn't boiling hot? And it was roasting, scorchingly hot - the temperature had soared into the 100s over the past week, and below him Detective Gumshoe could see the little dots of whites, pinks, blues, reds that were people in peaked caps, sunhats, who bared their shoulders to the burn of the sun. Little ant-like people far far below, who beetled back and forth about their daily business and had no idea of the impending doom that was suspended above them.
If he had the energy to laugh, he almost would have done - he had to laugh about most situations he got himself into; if he couldn't, what other consolation did he have? But no, that would mean ungritting his teeth, and the grinding of enamel upon enamel was giving him just that little extra bit of muscle power to keep him holding on, bearing the weight of the entire airconditioning unit that was now hanging out of the window at the full length of its cord. The cord had gradually slipped through his sweating fingers, taking the unit from being just out of reach to not-a-hope-in-hell. Now only the plug wedged against his thumb was stopping it from falling, to smash into smithereens on the head of whichever poor schmoe happened to be walking underneath.
It was a good quality airconditioner, with a good cord - that was the only thing going for it at the present moment, otherwise it was a heavy bastard that had totally failed to stay on the wallmounting for the moment he'd taken his hands away to grab the hand-drill. But even good cords can only hold for so long. How many minutes had he been standing like this, bent over the windowsill with his arm dangled 200 feet above ground level? The trouble was, he was just delaying the final event. Mr. Edgeworth was not going to come in and check on him, not all the way from Italy. And who else bothered with the top floor High Prosecutor's office?
The door opened with a quiet click, and it took a moment to register with Gumshoe that this had happened.
"Boss!" he groaned with relief through gritted teeth. At last, salvation! Well, possibly a paycut too, but for once that wasn't really his main issue.
There was silence, just the city traffic below, and then he felt a hand on his shoulder, a momentary pressure as he was leaned on in order to look out the window.
"Well, well, Detective Gumboot." Amusement coloured the voice of someone he hadn't been expecting, and his back was patted jovially. "Quite the fix!"
"Mr. Godot, sir! Can't hold this much longer!" Gumshoe craned his head over his shoulder to look pleadingly at him.
Godot stood with his arms folded, a half-smile on his face.
"I'm sure you can," he said. "I've heard you're capable of great things under pressure."
Gumshoe turned back, to look despairingly at the airconditioning unit dangling below him.
"I'll help you. Stay there, and don't let go, whatever you do."
Those were the words he'd been waiting to hear, and it was a renewed strength that surged through him, making him grip the cord tighter despite the fact he could no longer feel his fingers.
"Thankyou, Mr. Godot!" he declared. "I'll hold on, whatever it takes!"
But his relief was short-lived, as hands snaked around his middle, parted his trenchcoat and went for his belt. He couldn't even look down at them, bent over the windowsill as he was.
"Mr. Godot?" he said nervously. "What are you-"
"Ha...! What am I doing? I'm helping you take your mind off your rather unfortunate situation." Godot's fingers were nimble and within moments Gumshoe's belt was undone and his trousers were on the floor.
"Uhh, this is-" a hand on his ass, warm and unexpected. "-a bit...!" Another hand on his cock, which was quite certainly and most definitely deflated given the damn situation he was in.
"Quiet, Detective Gum-Chew. You've got other things to be thinking about. Remember what I said? Don't let go, whatever you do."
The hand pressed gently against his cock, then began to move slowly up and down, massaging it.
Gumshoe tried to ignore it, focus on holding tight. But with no feeling left in his fingers, it was hard to block out the sensation of his cock being teased. This... just wasn't fair. He had to protest, he had to say something.
"This... is a bit dangerous," he said, but his voice was quieter, a little absent.
"That's half the fun." Godot's words were bright, filled with a fervour. "As I said, the rumour is that you're good in a tight spot. You can't get much tighter than this - so let's see how you cope, hm?" Fingers reached up to work the pliable foreskin at the top of Gumshoe's penis, now actually finding a hard surface upon which to purchase.
"Mr. Godot... you're giving me a hardon." Gumshoe was at a loss now - aside from pointing out the facts, there was little else he could do to rationalise this absolutely ridiculous situation.
"Well done for pointing out the obvious, Detective. Now, what are you going to do about it?"
"...Not a lot."
"Then put up and shut up."
"Yes, sir."
Godot moved in a little closer, running his other hand over Gumshoe's left buttock, squeezing it a little. Gumshoe didn't need to turn around to know that the prosecutor likely had a carnivorous grin on his face and was probably getting off on this as much as he was. The colour was flooding to the Detective's cheeks and the sweat patches on the shirt underneath his trenchcoat were expanding. He found he couldn't help but thrust a little against Godot's hand on his cock, with what little lower body movement he had, bent as he was over the windowsill. He was weighing up his options now, and really, the facts were simple enough for him to realise - Godot was not going to stop, so the best thing was to just get it over with and give the man the spectacle he seemed to want. Gumshoe was used to being a spectacle - he gave up his dignity quite easily in most other situations if it achieved a result.
So he started to pant.
"Ha...! That's more like it, Gumbo!" Godot moved his other hand around to cup the Detective's balls firmly in his hand, tightening his grip around the shaft of the cock he was now pumping away on.
Gumshoe lay his head down on his arm - his muscle control was starting to fail with the waves of pleasure ramping up inside him, God, he couldn't believe he was this hard in such a dumb situation, and now he was bucking and twitching as Godot masturbated him. He was having to hug the windowsill with his free arm to keep his knees from giving way, and inside his shoes his toes were curling with the ecstasy of it. Godot moved his hand further beneath Gumshoe's testicles now, running his hand from beneath, all the way forward over the top of his balls and up the shaft to the top. He was pressed right up against the Detective now, and Gumshoe was dimly aware of the hardness of Godot's own erection pressing against his buttcheeks.
Somehow he was still holding onto the cord, he faintly realised. As if his hand had frozen. His other hand was spasming like crazy, fingernails scraping against the window sash. Then there was a horrible lurch, a snap back to reality, as Godot stopped. Abruptly, no hands, no wanking, just the press of Godot behind him. Gumshoe sagged against the windowsill.
"Jesus Christ, you can't just stop there," it came out, to his dismay, as nearly a sob, but it just about matched up with the pain of his orgasm denied.
"I can," was the sardonic reply, "unless, of course, you really want me to continue?"
"For God's sake, just finish me off," Gumshoe had no energy for formality - but he knew Godot had no respect for titles in the first place, and probably didn't care about him dispensing with it now. He didn't care either, he just wanted to fucking come - his cock was huge and throbbed achingly in response to its loss of stimulation.
"Ha...!" Godot returned to task; his hand seizing Gumshoe's cock was a momentary shock, he was so sensitive to the touch, but then Godot was pumping away again.
Dimly he wondered if this sudden break was all part of Godot's little kick, if he got off on begging or something - then he fell under the spell of his impending orgasm again, and most higher thoughts deserted him, his body tensing up and pressing against Godot's hard cock.
"God..." he moaned. "...Oh..."
"Hell yes, that's my name, and you're coming, Gumby!" Godot roared.
"Fuck yes!" Despite the exclamation it was little above a whisper, that was all Gumshoe could manage as the rest of him collapsed with an almighty shudder, that lasted and lasted as he came, his semen spattering the wall beneath the windowsill over and over. Godot held on to the very end, slowing down to tiny little up and down movements of his hand.
"Ha...! Now, let's see..." Godot let go, then leaned over the motionless Detective to look out the window. "...Well, that is commendable." He grabbed hold of the cord, only to find it was slick with sweat. "Hm." He made for grabbing hold of Gumshoe's lifeless arm instead, closing his hand over the Detective's seized-up fist and pulling with all his might. Gumshoe offered no help whatsoever, but the airconditioner came up enough for him to be able to loop the cord around his other hand and pull it up some more. Years of rehabilitation and physiotherapy made it a slightly easier task than it could have been.
Gumshoe lifted his head and opened his eyes to see the airconditioner was now just below the window. He reached out towards it with a shaky hand.
"Oh, just get out of the way, will you?" Godot jabbed him with an elbow.
Gumshoe shuffled sideways to sit cross-legged on the floor, pulling up his trousers a little and staring dully at the come-spattered wall as the airconditioner was manhandled over his head and safely onto the floor.
"Did you know that your trousers are still around your feet, Detective?" Godot snickered, standing over him, hands on hips.
Gumshoe carefully got to his feet, looking reproachfully at Godot the whole time he was doing up his trousers. In doing so he noticed that Godot's erection had just about gone away. It seemed he wasn't interested in a return favour, confirming his suspicions that the whole thing had been little more than a joyride.
"What's that look for? I gave you the help you wanted," Godot pointed out.
"Thankyou, Mr. Godot," Gumshoe sighed. It was a fair point.
"Looks like you've got some painting to do, Gumball," Godot nodded at the wall. "Guess I'll leave you to it." He turned to leave.
Gumshoe was just going to let him, then it occurred to him that dammit, he had just been harrassed with no justification, by a man he had little respect for anyway after the way he'd treated Mr. Edgeworth, even if he had helped him out of this fix - he at least had the right to ask why.
"Mr. Godot, what was that about? Was that for any reason at all?" he asked.
Godot stopped at the door.
"It's a bit boring without Wedgeworth around," he shrugged, then he left.
Gumshoe stared at the door as it shut behind him, shaking his head in disbelief. He had no other words - in fact, he wasn't sure if there really were any for Mr. Godot. So he went to clean the wall.
Word Count: 2,015
Synopsis: Gumshoe finds himself in a sticky situation, and help arrives from an unexpected quarter.
The window shouldn't have been open anyway. That's what Mr. Edgeworth would have said. But why install an airconditioning unit if it wasn't boiling hot? And it was roasting, scorchingly hot - the temperature had soared into the 100s over the past week, and below him Detective Gumshoe could see the little dots of whites, pinks, blues, reds that were people in peaked caps, sunhats, who bared their shoulders to the burn of the sun. Little ant-like people far far below, who beetled back and forth about their daily business and had no idea of the impending doom that was suspended above them.
If he had the energy to laugh, he almost would have done - he had to laugh about most situations he got himself into; if he couldn't, what other consolation did he have? But no, that would mean ungritting his teeth, and the grinding of enamel upon enamel was giving him just that little extra bit of muscle power to keep him holding on, bearing the weight of the entire airconditioning unit that was now hanging out of the window at the full length of its cord. The cord had gradually slipped through his sweating fingers, taking the unit from being just out of reach to not-a-hope-in-hell. Now only the plug wedged against his thumb was stopping it from falling, to smash into smithereens on the head of whichever poor schmoe happened to be walking underneath.
It was a good quality airconditioner, with a good cord - that was the only thing going for it at the present moment, otherwise it was a heavy bastard that had totally failed to stay on the wallmounting for the moment he'd taken his hands away to grab the hand-drill. But even good cords can only hold for so long. How many minutes had he been standing like this, bent over the windowsill with his arm dangled 200 feet above ground level? The trouble was, he was just delaying the final event. Mr. Edgeworth was not going to come in and check on him, not all the way from Italy. And who else bothered with the top floor High Prosecutor's office?
The door opened with a quiet click, and it took a moment to register with Gumshoe that this had happened.
"Boss!" he groaned with relief through gritted teeth. At last, salvation! Well, possibly a paycut too, but for once that wasn't really his main issue.
There was silence, just the city traffic below, and then he felt a hand on his shoulder, a momentary pressure as he was leaned on in order to look out the window.
"Well, well, Detective Gumboot." Amusement coloured the voice of someone he hadn't been expecting, and his back was patted jovially. "Quite the fix!"
"Mr. Godot, sir! Can't hold this much longer!" Gumshoe craned his head over his shoulder to look pleadingly at him.
Godot stood with his arms folded, a half-smile on his face.
"I'm sure you can," he said. "I've heard you're capable of great things under pressure."
Gumshoe turned back, to look despairingly at the airconditioning unit dangling below him.
"I'll help you. Stay there, and don't let go, whatever you do."
Those were the words he'd been waiting to hear, and it was a renewed strength that surged through him, making him grip the cord tighter despite the fact he could no longer feel his fingers.
"Thankyou, Mr. Godot!" he declared. "I'll hold on, whatever it takes!"
But his relief was short-lived, as hands snaked around his middle, parted his trenchcoat and went for his belt. He couldn't even look down at them, bent over the windowsill as he was.
"Mr. Godot?" he said nervously. "What are you-"
"Ha...! What am I doing? I'm helping you take your mind off your rather unfortunate situation." Godot's fingers were nimble and within moments Gumshoe's belt was undone and his trousers were on the floor.
"Uhh, this is-" a hand on his ass, warm and unexpected. "-a bit...!" Another hand on his cock, which was quite certainly and most definitely deflated given the damn situation he was in.
"Quiet, Detective Gum-Chew. You've got other things to be thinking about. Remember what I said? Don't let go, whatever you do."
The hand pressed gently against his cock, then began to move slowly up and down, massaging it.
Gumshoe tried to ignore it, focus on holding tight. But with no feeling left in his fingers, it was hard to block out the sensation of his cock being teased. This... just wasn't fair. He had to protest, he had to say something.
"This... is a bit dangerous," he said, but his voice was quieter, a little absent.
"That's half the fun." Godot's words were bright, filled with a fervour. "As I said, the rumour is that you're good in a tight spot. You can't get much tighter than this - so let's see how you cope, hm?" Fingers reached up to work the pliable foreskin at the top of Gumshoe's penis, now actually finding a hard surface upon which to purchase.
"Mr. Godot... you're giving me a hardon." Gumshoe was at a loss now - aside from pointing out the facts, there was little else he could do to rationalise this absolutely ridiculous situation.
"Well done for pointing out the obvious, Detective. Now, what are you going to do about it?"
"...Not a lot."
"Then put up and shut up."
"Yes, sir."
Godot moved in a little closer, running his other hand over Gumshoe's left buttock, squeezing it a little. Gumshoe didn't need to turn around to know that the prosecutor likely had a carnivorous grin on his face and was probably getting off on this as much as he was. The colour was flooding to the Detective's cheeks and the sweat patches on the shirt underneath his trenchcoat were expanding. He found he couldn't help but thrust a little against Godot's hand on his cock, with what little lower body movement he had, bent as he was over the windowsill. He was weighing up his options now, and really, the facts were simple enough for him to realise - Godot was not going to stop, so the best thing was to just get it over with and give the man the spectacle he seemed to want. Gumshoe was used to being a spectacle - he gave up his dignity quite easily in most other situations if it achieved a result.
So he started to pant.
"Ha...! That's more like it, Gumbo!" Godot moved his other hand around to cup the Detective's balls firmly in his hand, tightening his grip around the shaft of the cock he was now pumping away on.
Gumshoe lay his head down on his arm - his muscle control was starting to fail with the waves of pleasure ramping up inside him, God, he couldn't believe he was this hard in such a dumb situation, and now he was bucking and twitching as Godot masturbated him. He was having to hug the windowsill with his free arm to keep his knees from giving way, and inside his shoes his toes were curling with the ecstasy of it. Godot moved his hand further beneath Gumshoe's testicles now, running his hand from beneath, all the way forward over the top of his balls and up the shaft to the top. He was pressed right up against the Detective now, and Gumshoe was dimly aware of the hardness of Godot's own erection pressing against his buttcheeks.
Somehow he was still holding onto the cord, he faintly realised. As if his hand had frozen. His other hand was spasming like crazy, fingernails scraping against the window sash. Then there was a horrible lurch, a snap back to reality, as Godot stopped. Abruptly, no hands, no wanking, just the press of Godot behind him. Gumshoe sagged against the windowsill.
"Jesus Christ, you can't just stop there," it came out, to his dismay, as nearly a sob, but it just about matched up with the pain of his orgasm denied.
"I can," was the sardonic reply, "unless, of course, you really want me to continue?"
"For God's sake, just finish me off," Gumshoe had no energy for formality - but he knew Godot had no respect for titles in the first place, and probably didn't care about him dispensing with it now. He didn't care either, he just wanted to fucking come - his cock was huge and throbbed achingly in response to its loss of stimulation.
"Ha...!" Godot returned to task; his hand seizing Gumshoe's cock was a momentary shock, he was so sensitive to the touch, but then Godot was pumping away again.
Dimly he wondered if this sudden break was all part of Godot's little kick, if he got off on begging or something - then he fell under the spell of his impending orgasm again, and most higher thoughts deserted him, his body tensing up and pressing against Godot's hard cock.
"God..." he moaned. "...Oh..."
"Hell yes, that's my name, and you're coming, Gumby!" Godot roared.
"Fuck yes!" Despite the exclamation it was little above a whisper, that was all Gumshoe could manage as the rest of him collapsed with an almighty shudder, that lasted and lasted as he came, his semen spattering the wall beneath the windowsill over and over. Godot held on to the very end, slowing down to tiny little up and down movements of his hand.
"Ha...! Now, let's see..." Godot let go, then leaned over the motionless Detective to look out the window. "...Well, that is commendable." He grabbed hold of the cord, only to find it was slick with sweat. "Hm." He made for grabbing hold of Gumshoe's lifeless arm instead, closing his hand over the Detective's seized-up fist and pulling with all his might. Gumshoe offered no help whatsoever, but the airconditioner came up enough for him to be able to loop the cord around his other hand and pull it up some more. Years of rehabilitation and physiotherapy made it a slightly easier task than it could have been.
Gumshoe lifted his head and opened his eyes to see the airconditioner was now just below the window. He reached out towards it with a shaky hand.
"Oh, just get out of the way, will you?" Godot jabbed him with an elbow.
Gumshoe shuffled sideways to sit cross-legged on the floor, pulling up his trousers a little and staring dully at the come-spattered wall as the airconditioner was manhandled over his head and safely onto the floor.
"Did you know that your trousers are still around your feet, Detective?" Godot snickered, standing over him, hands on hips.
Gumshoe carefully got to his feet, looking reproachfully at Godot the whole time he was doing up his trousers. In doing so he noticed that Godot's erection had just about gone away. It seemed he wasn't interested in a return favour, confirming his suspicions that the whole thing had been little more than a joyride.
"What's that look for? I gave you the help you wanted," Godot pointed out.
"Thankyou, Mr. Godot," Gumshoe sighed. It was a fair point.
"Looks like you've got some painting to do, Gumball," Godot nodded at the wall. "Guess I'll leave you to it." He turned to leave.
Gumshoe was just going to let him, then it occurred to him that dammit, he had just been harrassed with no justification, by a man he had little respect for anyway after the way he'd treated Mr. Edgeworth, even if he had helped him out of this fix - he at least had the right to ask why.
"Mr. Godot, what was that about? Was that for any reason at all?" he asked.
Godot stopped at the door.
"It's a bit boring without Wedgeworth around," he shrugged, then he left.
Gumshoe stared at the door as it shut behind him, shaking his head in disbelief. He had no other words - in fact, he wasn't sure if there really were any for Mr. Godot. So he went to clean the wall.