deadcellredux: (Grelliam)
[personal profile] deadcellredux posting in [community profile] kinkfest
Title:
 Behind Schedule
Author: [personal profile] deadcellredux
Rating: Explicit

Warnings:
 None
Word count: 2,042
Summary: William is interrupted at work, and subsequently distracted. Thoroughly.

A/N: Written for the prompt Will/Grell: glovekink - the smell of blood and leather.



William couldn’t concentrate.

It was impossible, what with the noises beyond the fretfully thin walls of his office. Worse yet, at the moment said noise consisted of the click-click-click of one particularly recognizable pair of heels in the hallway, the murmurs of female voices and then-- that unmistakable, inappropriately shrill and raucous laughter.

Honestly.

William could practically predict the exact moment Sutcliff would open his door; it was easy enough, given that he typically came around at about the same time each day to ramble on about one thing or another, and it was just about time for--

three, two, one…

The door to William’s office burst open in a flurry of red as Grell entered, one hand splayed dramatically against the wood. With him one was one of the young ladies from General Affairs, guiltily looking as though she’d been involved in a conversation unfit for the workplace.

“Some men are just animals,” Grell said, giving the girl a sympathetic look. He turned his gaze to William. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Spears?”

Obviously, knowing Sutcliff, she had been.

William cleared his throat. "I've no time for the frivolity of women's affairs," he said evenly. "And at a time like this, when I am especially busy-- please take your discussion elsewhere."

The girl from General looked a bit taken aback and opened her mouth to speak, but Grell held up a hand and she halted.

"Handsome yet cold-- truly a curse!” Grell shook his head, and patted the girl on the shoulder. “Run along my dear. Worry not; I shall handle this brute myself."

“Of course, Mr. Sutcliff. Mr. Spears,” and she hurried a curtsey before exiting.

Grell shut the door behind him and turned to face William, fluffing his hair with his fingers.

"What do you want, Sutcliff," William took off his glasses and rubbed at his forehead. “It’s only mid-morning. There can’t possibly be—“

"We had something for you. Also, that last reap you gave me was dreadful. Have you seen a disemboweling before? Almost put me off my breakfast. No more morning factory accidents, please." he pulled a slip of folded-up paper from the inner pocket of his waistcoat. "There you are," he said, handing it to William.

William unfolded the paper and began to read. It was a note from the poor girl who’d been accompanying Grell, apologizing for the accidental misplacement of a Scythe earlier in the week. The entire department had been scrambling in a panic that it’d been lost to the human world; thankfully it’d merely been result of an inventory error.

“She wanted to apologize in person,” Grell said, walking around to stand behind William and look at the letter over his shoulder. “But you scared her away.”

William sighed. “I will speak with her later. Though,” and he turned his head to look up at Grell, “next time, please don’t barge into my office uttering gibberish. It’s quite off-putting.”

“Look at that,” Grell said, ignoring the comment as he leaned over Will’s shoulder to point at the paper. Some of his hair spilled onto William, who pushed it off with an exasperated sigh. “I hadn’t noticed the new Department letterhead until now. Such a boring design; I’m assuming you had a major hand in its choosing, no?”

Now it was William’s turn to avoid idle commentary; he was oddly fixated on Grell’s hand, the sheen of his glove and the slender fingers, the somehow… indecent section of exposed skin between said glove and the cuff of Grell’s shirt.

“You smell like blood,” William said, and Grell pulled back a bit, startled. William grabbed his extended arm, pulled Grell’s hand closer to his face, inspecting. “Do tell me that you cleaned yourself up after your reap.”

“Well of course I did,” Grell said, quietly now and slightly disarmed. “Why wouldn’t I? A lady should remain presentable—“ he shifted aside slightly as William released his arm and stood. “—and you’d be all in a tizzy about it…”

"Honestly," William said, taking Grell's hand. He held it up to his face, brushing his nose against Grell’s palm and the soft leather there. "How does a lady manage to get her hands so dirty?"

The shock on Grell’s face at William’s sudden, invasive actions were quickly replaced by something a bit more smug, his cheeks coloring a bit as he looked away. "That’s a fresh pair, actually," he said quietly, placing his other hand lightly on Will's hip. "Though I suppose that lovely scent can't quite be washed out."

"Hmm," William sighed absently, nuzzling his face against Grell's palm and inhaling, "I am loathe to admit that the trace is rather intoxicating."

"Such a keen sense of smell you have," Grell purred. "Like a hungry, ravishing hound on the hunt for carnal pleasu--"

"Stop your nonsense," Will growled quietly, "and open your mouth."

Grell’s mouth was already open, in surprise, as William leaned forward to claim it, nipping gently at one of Grell’s lips before his tongue was inside. He ran his hands over Grell's hips, his grip gradually tightening as Grell raised his arms to wrap them around William’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

When William pulled away, Grell was breathless-- speechless even, for once. William took one of his hands again and, without preamble, began to suck on Grell's gloved fingers, kissing each one in turn; he kissed his palm, inhaled the scent of blood and leather and the light perfume of roses that seemed to intoxicatingly soften any space Grell occupied.

“Oh my,” Grell muttered, flushed and out-of-sorts, watching through half-closed eyes as William lavished a very new sort of attention upon him. “What’s come over you?”

“Your gloves,” William said bluntly, meeting Grell’s eyes as he kissed Grell’s index finger, “rather… suit you today.”

“Really,” Grell said, pulling his hand away from William’s grasp, thoroughly entranced now by William’s behavior. "I’ll admit they were an indulgent purchase, but… I'm afraid I'll just have to dirty them.”

William’s grip tightened sharply on Grell’s hips as Grell unfastened his trousers. “Oh, look!” Grell said in mock surprise, gently pulling William’s cock free as William closed his eyes and breathed out a moan. “A little gift here, for me. Or rather, a large gift--”

“Touch me,” William groaned. “Now.”

Grell hummed as he ran his fingers over the shaft and William’s breath quickened and swiftly dissolved into a clipped, quiet moan as he watched Grell wrap his gloved hand around his cock and begin to stroke, slowly at first, languid and teasing, the cool, worn leather providing just the right amount of surprisingly unique friction as Grell moved his hand.

"Does that feel nice?" Grell asked, his voice low. William’s response was to go for the buttons on Grell’s pants, even as Grell began to protest—

“Shh," William hissed shakily, as he began to stroke Grell’s cock with his own gloved hand, placing his other gently over Grell's mouth to muffle his sharp moan. “You tell me,” he whispered.

Grell swatted William’s hand away from his mouth, grabbing the back of William’s neck again and pulling him down for another kiss, wet and hot and decidedly urgent. He could hear footsteps and the murmur of voices in the hallway outside and grinned against William’s mouth.

“Feeling risky today?” he said quietly, then sucked in a sharp breath when William squeezed before letting go of his cock, reaching both hands up into Grell’s hair and pulling, tilting his head back to continue the kiss, his grip tightening as Grell stroked him faster. Grell whimpered at the mingling of pain and pleasure wrought by William's steady pull on his hair, and William began to move his hips, thrusting into Grell's hand as he closed his eyes, panting against Grell's open mouth.

Grell almost collapsed when someone rapped loudly on the door.

“One moment,” William said, loud and unmeasured, pulling back from Grell as adrenaline flooded him. Nobody (except for Grell, of course) entered William T. Spears’ office without express permission following a knock, but there was always the chance—

“Mr. Spears?” called a voice through the door. “May I have a word?”

“I’m in a meeting,” William called out, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. “What does she want?” he mouthed silently at Grell, an absolutely incredulous expression on his face. Grell just shrugged and covered his mouth to muffle a giggle.

The girl answered, and Grell and William stared blankly at one another as she spoke, her over-eager voice muffled through the door. "Mr. Spears, sir! I just need you to look over this requisition form for me-- I don't think the previous shift filled it out correctly, and I wouldn't want to mistakenly account for another Deathsycthe not--"

"I’m afraid it will have to wait," William said, and Grell stilled his hand. William tugged on Grell’s hair, and whispered hotly into his ear. "Did I say you could stop, Sutcliff?"

The voice outside his door came again as Grell's eyes rolled back and he began to stroke again, leaning his face against William's shoulder as William made a quiet noise in his throat.

"What time should I return then, Mr. Spears?"

"Please address my person after lunch," Will said, summoning every inch of willpower to keep his voice steady.

"Are you alright, Mr. Spears? You sound a bit--"

"Yes--“ William said, his voice straining as Grell sucked gently at the skin below his ear. He smacked Grell lightly away as Grell bit back another laugh. “Please-- I beg you, do take your leave."

Finally, there was the merciful sound of footsteps retreating, and then silence. William sighed; Grell could feel the tension that had sprung into his body suddenly dissipate.

“Well that would have been a conundrum,” Grell said against William’s neck, pumping his cock faster, now. “My reputation would be--ahh--“ he whimpered as William pulled his hips closer, reaching down to unclasp Grell’s hand from his cock, “ruined.”

“I daresay your reputation doesn’t quite place you as a lady of… honorable standing to begin with,” William said quietly, as Grell’s head tilted back and his mouth fell open at the feel of William’s cock thrusting, smooth and hard and hot, against his own.

“Oh shush,” Grell breathed shakily as he gripped William’s shoulders, the comment quickly forgotten as William’s hands slid down to grip Grell’s ass and Grell wrapped his hand around the both of their cocks, now. The sheer, indecent thrill of almost being caught in an act such as this had brought Grell quite close to the edge, and he pumped his hand erratically now as William took the lead, thrusting insistently.

“Yes,” Grell whispered, “Please, Will, yes, almost…”

“Grell,” William moaned, pushing his face into Grell’s hair and breathing heavily against his ear. “You…”

Grell pushed his face against William’s shoulder, gritting his teeth and panting out quiet, restrained noises as he came, shuddering, his grip on the two of them gone loose and unfocused, fingers of his other hand digging into William’s shoulder. William followed almost immediately, growling into Grell’s ear. “You…” he finally continued, breathless, panting, his hands traveling of their own accord, shakily, up and down Grell’s back from his shoulder blades to his ass and back again. “You’ve put me behind schedule.”

“And you,” Grell said weakly in-between heavy breaths and gentle kisses to William’s jaw, “put me at another trip to the cleaner’s, darling.” He looked down at his hand. “I do hope you’ve a spare pair of gloves here.”

William took Grell’s hand and brought it to his mouth, keeping eye contact with Grell as he slowly licked at the soiled leather. Grell sighed, shivering at the sight, and then laughed.

"I didn't realize you enjoyed such exotic appetizers before tea. Do I suit your palette?" Grell asked coquettishly.

“Sutcliff,” William sighed, and dropped Grell’s hand. “Must you… sully this moment?”

“We’re having a moment?” Grell cried, his eyes widening and his demeanor brightening in such a way that indicated nothing less than a guaranteed onslaught of poetic crooning and swooning. William raised a hand, silencing Grell before he could start.

“Just clean yourself up, Sutcliff,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “Honestly.”
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