Archive of Our Own

There are 840 minutes in an 8-hour shift. Ray knows this well, especially since he’s counted down from 60 over five times in the past hour. The corner of his desktop reads 3:15, meaning he’s got a little less than two hours left in his workday and another 15 minutes until he has to make his way to the fourth floor to make a meeting marked important on his calendar.

Let’s make one thing clear: Ray has been productive. If anything, he’s done all too well at keeping himself occupied, managing to check off just about everything on his daily task list, the last item being a meeting with Gerard. That predicament in itself was a two-way street, requiring the other party to be present. That being said, it’s not his fault he’s got nothing left to do save for sitting around and waiting. Ray was running on Gerard’s time, nothing more, nothing less.

She’d mentioned something about a new project on its last legs, the final touches being brought into fruition. From what Ray could tell, it sounded like she needed a second pair of eyes to gloss over what’s already been set into stone. He was more than happy to oblige.

3:30, my office. The words settled like the pressure of a paperweight, ruminating between each task struck out, bridging the gap between the day’s trajectory and the highly anticipated hour.

3:30. Ray checks his desktop one last time. It’s a general consensus; Gerard hates feeling rushed, despite the days when it feels like everything she says or does has an air of urgency to it. It’s now 3:17 and he feels restless. Surely Gerard isn’t so busy that she can’t squeeze him in a few minutes earlier than their scheduled meeting time. Of course, there’s also the possibility that she’s genuinely swamped with work—payroll, paperwork— the onslaught of monotonous tasks seeming inevitable in her case.

Ray hesitates, thinking of ways to kill time, deciding he’d rather just bite the bullet and make way towards the elevator. The whole time, he keeps his head down, patiently waiting for the door to slide open before he makes his way inside. The elevator door closes, Ray pushes one of the buttons inside, and then it hits him; he could’ve run to the break room and made coffee or something.

Fuck, he mutters, the opportunity already having slipped straight through his fingers. No time for that now. The elevator dings, an automated voice declaring Ray’s on the fourth floor. Before he knows it, he’s walking down the corridor and swinging a left, Oxford shoes meeting their stride against polished tile.

Suite 4440. Gerard Way, Project Manager.

Ray stares at the door plate before his eyes meet the windows of Gerard’s office. Inside, he can see her, tucked away with a landline phone to her ear. Her hands are occupied by something, which he can only assume is the project mentioned prior.

Gerard raises a finger in wait—she’s got leather gloves on—pristine, empowered, the motion leaving Ray swallowing hard. As if on cue, she looks up from her desktop and towards the windows that Ray so graciously has positioned himself in front of. He’s sure to adjust his tie, continuing to wait patiently for Gerard to let him in. It feels awkward watching her through half-cracked blinds, even when his eyes have nowhere else to wander.

He’d much rather look at her than his shoes. They’re not all that interesting, anyway. Moretti, Macon, plain toed. Nothing worth noting, given there are about five other similar pairs scattered throughout his department. Gerard, on the other hand? Well, she’s one of a kind. There’s not one person in the office, let alone their company’s branch.

“Ray,” Gerard says sternly. She swiftly opens the door to her office before her tone takes a turn for the hospitable. “So glad you could make it. I’ve been waiting for you,” she hums.

Ray matches her demeanor, presenting himself as warm and welcoming, sure to wave hello despite being caught off guard.

“I was a little early, sorry about that,” Ray begins. Gerard waves a hand dismissively, one of two leather gloves glistening under the corridor’s incandescent lighting.

“Not too early. I was just wrapping up my last call. You can come in now. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No worries. Just didn’t want you to feel rushed or anything like that.” Ray mumbles the last bit.

Gerard shrugs haphazardly.

Ray’s seen her chew out other employees for less. He knows there’s an air of favoritism there. Both of them have had their fair share in dipping their pens in the company’s inkwell, and everyone within their radius is far too aware of this. It’s one thing to bridge the gap between work and play, but to carefully implement a grey area catered towards unadulterated means of leisure? Well, neither of them particularly harbors any shame towards the matter.

“You’d be surprised,” Gerard hums, heels clicking against hardwood floors.

Ray stays standing for a second, expectant. He glances over at the open blinds surrounding the two of them. When Gerard addresses him again, he blinks hard, trying not to let his expressions give away too much at once.

“You can take a seat here,” Gerard suggests, hands settling against the back of her rolling chair. She pushes it forward ever-so-slightly, wordlessly insisting Ray takes what’s being offered to him.

“Are you sure?” Ray inquires, still staying in one place. He motions to the blinds cautiously.

“Oh, I’m positive.”

Gerard relinquishes her hold on the chair, leather dragging against leather before her heels click off towards one of the windows in her office.

Ray takes a seat, pushing in the chair once he’s settled. He glances at Gerard’s desktop screen, seeing one of her projects pulled up. He thinks that must be it: the thing he’s supposed to be looking over. He won’t touch it just yet, not when he’s still uncertain of what it might actually be. Instead, he folds his hands in his lap, peeking back over to see what’s holding Gerard up.

Gerard’s overly cautious, peering out her windows before she wordlessly draws her blinds shut. The last thing she does before making her way back over to where Ray is sitting is lock the door. Once she’s right in front of him, she drapes herself on the corner of her desk, one leg promptly crossing over the other.

Ray scans her face for a moment, watching as a sigh brandishes Gerard’s actions. Everything she does is so poised; she’s never one to relinquish decorum if it means she stays commanding whatever room her presence happens to grace. When her shoulders drop, that's when Ray can tell what he’s really here for: running errands.

“Ray…” Gerard hums, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.

Ray knows better than anyone that Gerard has an itch only he can scratch. She’s insatiable, in and out of the office: always one to hold Ray to a golden standard, given the fact that no one else in the office performs as well as he does. Of course, this has nothing to do with conversion rates, or metrics, or anything relevant to the space the two occupy during the day.

It’s more so about what they get up to behind the scenes: the things that make for good water-cooler talk amongst their peers, what everyone whispers about in the break room when the two of them aren’t around. Everybody knows Gerard and Ray are involved with each other in some way. They’ve seen the two of them on coffee dates, catching rides home together, and even leaving company events in tandem. All signs point to the obvious; there’s just no telling what the intricacies of their relationship truly encompass.

“Yes?”

Ray scoots his chair in further, hands now resting on top of Gerard’s desk as opposed to being folded neatly in his lap. He drums his fingers along the surface, all too comfortable with where he’s currently sitting. He’s familiar with this routine of theirs; Gerard calling a one-on-one meeting, asking Ray to stay behind because, for some reason, Gerard finds a way to make it the company’s business analyst’s job to look over whatever up-and-coming “project” she’s got on her plate.

Like anyone believes that.

“So wound-up. The blinds are closed for a reason, darling. It’s just us two right now. Loosen up, will you?”

Ray shakes his head, fingers staying in time as they continue to tap against Gerard’s desk.

“I thought I was here for a meeting,” Ray tuts. He knows he’s there for something, just not that.

“You are. You’re getting paid, aren’t you?”

One of Gerard’s hands slides over the top of Ray’s. She interrupts the initial rhythm he had going with the rise of each finger, snuffing out any further opportunities for motion with the wave of a leather-bound hand.

“Did you expect me to punch out? I’m supposed to be here for…” Ray’s voice trails off, glancing back with recall towards the idle screen of Gerard’s desktop. Ray squints hard, looking at the time. “Another two hours.”

“Right, right. No reason to leave early, but maybe one to stay a little later?”

Ray wags his finger, knowing Gerard is setting the mood; her plan is for him to go home with her. He has no problem with this.

“Oh, I don’t know, Gerard. I was really hoping to be home by a certain time. I’ve got to meet someone for dinner later, and I’d hate to keep her waiting.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Ray affirms, dangling the figurative invitation in front of Gerard as she leans in closer. Gerard smiles, proceeding to drag her thumb along the top of Ray’s hand, foot tapping against one of the legs on her desk.

Ray peeks over, noticing the contour of her legs as they remain crossed. Something’s amiss. Ray notices it as soon as he’s met with exposed ivory skin, the musculature of sturdy legs fully on display. Normally, Gerard wears a sheer pair of tights: Wolford black, backseam, intimate apparel. Ray knows those tights well. He’s been over-familiarized with them, given the fact he’s thrown them aside time and time again, so to see Gerard not wearing them raises a handful of suspicions in the back of his mind.

“I’ll clear my calendar,” she follows up. Her hand stays put. The two of them stay like that, carrying silence before Ray clears his throat, interjecting with a burning question.

“So, you wanted me to look over something?”

Gerard blinks, a shallow laugh drawing out before she nods her head yes.

“I mentioned needing a second pair of eyes earlier, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Perfect. I just wanted to run a few things by you to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Sure thing,” Ray nods affirmatively. He wonders why Gerard’s asked him to sit in her chair, and only when she starts hiking up her skirt does he realize what exactly it is Gerard wants him to look at.

“We’re on the same page, right, Ray?” Gerard speaks cooly, sliding off her desk with a hum.

“Well, that depends, Gerard. What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?”

Gerard doesn’t waste a moment hoisting her skirt up further; there’s nothing beneath it, save for the supple expanse of Gerard’s thighs and her cock stirring between her legs. She shudders, a draft buzzing at the contrast between her suite’s cool air and warm, exposed skin.

“Ah–” Ray closes his mouth. Gerard’s hands drop down, the fabric of her skirt following in tow. Ray feels an electric shock, his body a conductor running on low resistance. The thought of Gerard sitting in her office, doing work with no panties on, is one he never wants to live down. He wonders when she decided to take them off, if she even bothered wearing them when she came into work today. He also wonders if Gerard has more in store for him, if there’s a pleasant surprise waiting, if he continues to play his cards right.

Ray’s brain short-circuits for a second. Gerard taps him back in, making sure he doesn’t leave reality behind just yet.

“So? Same page?”

Ray shifts in his seat, one leg moving to cross over the other.

“Did you come into work like that, or was this all planned out?”

“So definitely on the same page,” Gerard coos, her arms crossing over her chest.

“I’m just curious. You always tell people to ask questions when they’re not sure about things. Did you come into work like this or take them off before I got here?”

“Does it really matter? You’re going to be fucking me one way or another, aren’t you?”

Ray swallows; his fate’s been sealed. Gerard’s got him wrapped around her glove-bound finger, and all he can do is smile and nod so she knows he’s along for the ride. He moves too eagerly, hands gripping the armrests of Gerard’s chair before she points at him, tutting.

“Stay put,” she instructs. Ray obeys, biting at the skin on his lip as Gerard approaches him. Her demeanor is too cool, the head on her shoulders level, ready to continue commanding the space between them.

“You don’t mind if I get a little extra work done before we have a little fun, do you, Ray?”

Ray shakes his head. He knows that the destination has been predetermined; Gerard’s going to be the one who guides him there. The two of them have to function on her time, though. After all, Gerard is the one calling the shots. She was the one who carefully put this meeting together, and it would be rude of Ray to impose on plans that were already set in stone.

“Not at all. Is it something I can help you with?”

Gerard folds her hands together before she smiles, all teeth, crow’s feet on display as her expression falls nothing short of a true grin. She’s already draping herself on top of Ray, sure to take up space in his lap as she presses herself against him.

“How good are you at solitaire, Ray?”

Her hands wander, tugging at his collar, fingers drumming along broad shoulders.

It takes Ray a second to fully process her question; it’s so unserious that it leaves him blinking hard, wondering if he heard her correctly in the first place.

“Average, I guess. I’m not completing games in record time or anything. Are you saying you just play solitaire on company time?”

“No. I do other things,” Gerard retorts, mouth opening with the click of her tongue.

“Spider Solitaire doesn’t count,” Ray hits back, moving to let a hand rest on Gerard’s thigh. She places a hand over his firmly. A light squeeze prompts Ray to move, and he leads his hand down to the hemline of Gerard’s skirt.

He waits, hooking his finger under the bottom of the fabric before pausing. Gerard snaps at him, quick to usher his hand beneath her skirt further. He holds her steady, sure to push Gerard down on his pelvis. Gerard holds firm, still letting Ray grind her down on his lap.

“What’s your best solitaire time, Ray?”

Ray brushes his hand against one of her thighs, letting it slide inwards to grab a tender handful of Gerard before she puts up a finger in wait.

“Ray?”

“Are you serious about the solitaire thing? Is this a gimmick–”

“Best time?”

“Fine. Five, maybe six minutes?”

“Interesting,” Gerard says. There’s no expansion on the context of her initial inquiry. All she does is shift in Ray’s lap one last time, as if for good measure, before her shoes click against the hardwood under her feet. Without another word, Gerard turns her back, taking more interest in what’s on her desktop than Ray’s waning answer. She tends to her computer’s screen, elbows propping against her desk as her fingers flit along her keyboard, typing something into the search bar.

Ray can’t help but slump down in his seat a little; Gerard’s back is turned to him, and his eyes manage to wander beneath the belt without any second thought. He’s face-to-face with her ass, and there’s nothing he can do about it. All he can do is observe from a less-than-respectable angle, one where there’s no panty-lines, no stockings under Gerard’s skirt for him to distract wandering eyes with. Instead, the concept of Gerard’s legs, barren beneath her clothes, and her cock waiting to be handled is enough for Ray to shift in his seat one more time. Under any other circumstances, he would be all over her: moulding his hands along the curve of her ass, tugging at the bottom hem of Gerard’s skirt so he could dive in tongue first, all for the sake of getting just a taste. It’s nothing more than wishful thinking at the moment, if not a reminder that his only purpose is to keep lying in wait.

He wants to know what other surprises she’s got up her sleeve, or more so, hidden under her skirt.

Ray has a feeling Gerard’s doing all this on purpose because more often than not, she’s been one to leave him feeling like a live wire. There’s this air of understanding between the two of them that Ray is supposed to be holding some metaphorical line; opting for composure, even when things feel so dire. Gerard likes to call it abiding by company policy, but Ray’s seen her break said policies on numerous occasions. In fact, everything they’re doing right now feels more like an infringement on professionalism than anything else. This is no meeting; it’s obviously a come on.

Ray doesn’t care. He knows Gerard’s going to take good care of him and vice versa. No one, save for the two of them, understands the intricate levels of push and pull that encompass their relationship: how their playful state of affairs makes for greater means of intimacy and a casual flair that might leave any onlookers to cast questionable glances.

There’s no such thing as being held at arm’s length between either of them, given the fact that at this point, Gerard and Ray make for a perfect pair. They’re complementary, and the way they manage to always find time for each other, even on their busiest of days, is enthralling to say the least. The connection becomes all the more alluring when the two manage to shamelessly waltz around behind closed doors without a second thought.

The state Ray’s been left in, however–– all pent up with no sign of relief anytime soon–– is very much, in fact, driving him up the fucking wall.

Gerard leans into the aspect of no shame much more than Ray does. It’s especially apparent when it comes to dragging out their encounters in the office. There’s no doubt she’s always had a flair for the dramatic; it’s one of the things Ray always finds himself wrapped up in. Right now? Gerard is certainly playing things up, sure to string Ray along just to ensure he’ll unravel on her call.

“There we go,” Gerard says.

Ray can only imagine what she’s pulling up on her desktop. When she moves to the side, turning around to show him the screen, all he can do is lean closer in disbelief.

“You called a meeting for me to watch you play solitaire?”

“Among other things. You don’t mind, do you? You finished your work for the day, didn’t you? What's one more task for the road? You are still on the clock, Mr. Toro.”

That leaves Ray straightening his shoulders. He stays hot on the heels of Gerard’s wit, trying to keep the metaphorical playing field level.

“I think sitting here watching you play solitaire is more of a chore––”

“I think you forgot what I said before,” Gerard interrupts, “You’re going to be fucking me one way or another.”

Ray nods, defeated. Gerard just shut down whatever future retorts he could have conjured up. He tries to straighten himself out in his seat. Gerard turns around again, and all Ray can hear is the mouse dragging as she lets it hover over New Game.

“Are we still on the same page?” Gerard’s tone softens when she touches base. She looks over her shoulder, pleased when Ray responds.

“I’m fucking you one way or another, right?”

She nods in agreement, managing to seat herself against the edge of her desk one last time. Gerard lets her palms rest atop her desk at either side of her before she looks down at Ray, who’s taken the liberty of pushing his chair closer towards her. She’s more than comfortable with a little bit of leverage, specifically the pleasure that comes from a sudden revelation. When she looks at where one of her feet is positioned, all she can think about is how Ray's groin is an ideal distance from being pressed against one of her heels. Gerard can only grin at that. She’s always been resourceful; there’s no reason for her not to indulge, either.

“You don’t even know the half of things, Ray.”

Ray doesn’t even get the chance to ask what. Gerard places one of her feet in his lap, managing to wedge her toebox between Ray’s legs. She’s like a heat missile, seeking refuge wherever Ray's cock has started to spring against his pants.

“So are you gonna leave me to guess?”

“No. You seem very hands-on, so I’ll let you find out for yourself.”

Ray shifts ever so slightly against the pressure Gerard is increasingly applying against his cock. The two of them haven’t even taken off a single article of clothing, and Ray is already seeming desperate from an unraveling sense of decorum.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Mr. Toro. Didn’t you see what I pulled up? We’re both still clocked in. We’re still in a meeting, in case you forgot.”

Ray inhales and exhales, nodding. Gerard has never been more aware of the effect she has on anyone else than right now. It’s hard not to when she can feel Ray’s erection throb underfoot. She likes the power trip that comes with that knowledge: the fact that all it takes to get him hard is a stern talking to and just a little bit of pressure.

“Sorry,” Ray responds, breathy, grappling with paying proper attention and appeasing Gerard.

“When I take my foot off, start taking off your pants, okay? Then you can get your hands on me.”

Ray tries not to dig himself into a deeper hole than he already is. He’s neck deep in the thought of Gerard keeping the ball rolling, and all he can manage is a simple nod of his head. He doesn’t say a word; all he can do is wait for the less-than-alleviating feeling of Gerard’s foot abandoning its post against his hard-on. Everything seems to hang overhead, like whatever touch Gerard ushers his way lingers for too long. Ray breathes in and out. Gerard releases him from her hold.

It makes Ray realize it was never even that firm to begin with, because one swift movement later, and it’s gone, leaving behind nothing more than a deeper sense of dread encompassing the fact that he wants more.

“Go ahead.”

Ray moves for his belt buckle without any further resistance. He feels pliant, like Gerard’s words are his command. What she says is doctrine, and all he can do is abide. It’s like some sensual code of conduct, and Ray has no choice but to uphold its values and make sure he provides Gerard with nothing short of exemplariness.

It’s almost like he’s being supervised. Gerard doesn’t let her eyes peel from him once. Ray’s fingers flit against the metal, working leather out of the loops holding it in place. Gerard watches intently, peering down as she drinks in the sight of him awkwardly positioning himself to get his pants down to his ankles.

He’s had to have done this exact thing dozens of times. Gerard’s been there for just about all of them. Ray can’t quite put his finger on it, but right now, what he can tell is that Gerard’s presence feels more domineering than usual. When he hears a haphazard “Oh” come from Gerard, he knows exactly what she might be acknowledging.

She doesn’t follow up with anything else, either, but Ray can tell what she’s got her sights set on. Wet polyester. Under any other circumstances, the sight might be unfortunate. Ray can’t help but feel embarrassed at that, though Gerard reassures him with the gentle click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“I didn’t know you wanted it that bad, Ray,” Gerard chides.

Ray rolls his eyes, hands out, waiting for Gerard to do something, anything, and before he knows it, she’s turning back around, practically handing her ass over to him.

Eagerly, he starts to pull the bottom of Gerard’s skirt upwards, curious to see what he’ll be met with when he goes to spread her cheeks. The pad of his thumb aligns itself with her crack before he pushes one cheek away from the other. When Ray sees it, his breath hitches.

“You had this the whole day?”

“Think of it as a placeholder. It’s good to be thorough. You know this.”

Gerard doesn’t even turn her head to look at Ray, but he can sense that she’s probably smiling, trying to stifle a gentle fit of laughter as she snickers into the leather of her gloves.

Ray can’t help but think about Gerard working herself open prior to his arrival. He wonders if the phone call she was taking earlier was legit or if it was just her trying to make herself look busy. He thinks about how she was probably thinking of him when she did it, too, how she probably had to bite her tongue to keep herself from crying out his name right then and there. Then there’s the thought of her spending the day with a plug inside her, gently nestled between her cheeks.

“Something wrong?” Gerard asks.

Ray can’t lean further into his previous thought. Not if he wants to keep things moving along.

All that comes out is a soft-spoken “You did this for me?”

Gerard hums. Ray can see her nod her head yes and for a moment he thinks his heart might have stopped beating in his chest. He stares back down at the flared base of the plug, swallowing the lump in his throat. He doesn’t even know when that accumulated. When he takes another breath, he thinks he may have died and gone to heaven. As of right now, Gerard doesn’t fall short of being an angel. It’s almost like her generosity knows no bounds, and Ray has never been more thankful.

He lets his thumb press against the base of the plug, earning a just-barely-noticeable hiss through Gerard’s teeth. He lets her compose herself before moving on.

Gerard doesn’t attest when Ray gives the plug a cautionary tug; all she does is squirm at the sensation. Ray proceeds, and Gerard’s sphincter accommodates by helping ease it the rest of the way out.

“God fucking damn—” Gerard begins, only to slide one of her hands over her mouth when she remembers where they are.

Ray can’t help but shush her.

When Gerard glances over her shoulder, he can see how her brows are furrowed together. Her look alone sets him straight, leaving Ray backtracking, trying to correct his mistake.

“We’re in a meeting…” Ray mumbles. He tries to ease himself out of the hot seat by paying special attention to Gerard’s hole. It’s lube-slick, wide open, and ready for him to intrude. His thumb runs along its perimeter, never managing to make decisive means of contact.

All he needs is the okay from Gerard, whom, as of right now, he can’t get a full read on.

“Right, it’s a pretty important meeting too. Lots to do. And there’s so little time left in our shift. We should get back to work, shouldn’t we?”

That’s Ray’s cue; it’s the brush of permission he was waiting for, but Gerard seems to have other plans. Ray doesn’t get a chance to get his hands on Gerard again. Instead, he feels her leather-bound hands swat at him before she positions herself over his cock.

“Ray.”

“Yeah?”

“How long did you say your best solitaire game was? How long did you last?”

Gerard’s obviously cherry-picking her words. Still, Ray responds promptly, reinstating his previous answer to the same question.

“Five, maybe six minutes.”

“Alright, then.” Gerard never fails to keep things vague, especially when it's something catered towards her best interests. Ray really has no room to argue; she managed to hammer a point into his head. He was going to be fucking Gerard one way or another.

Within the timeframe in which two of them have pushed well past the point of being colleagues, Gerard has always managed to adhere to her word. At this point in their relationship, whatever she says could be considered doctrine. Of course, Ray doesn’t get the chance to fully expand on that premonition.

Gerard aligns herself with the head of his cock and takes the initiative to sink down on it without any second thought.

“Shit,” Ray says, distressed, trying to stifle a groan. The back of his head presses against the head of Gerard’s office chair. His brows knit together for a moment before he starts moving his hips. Gerard’s embrace is soft and wet; it’s like she was hand-tailored to hold him like this.

“Ray–”

“Fuck, yeah?”

“I didn’t say you could move.”

The room goes silent. Ray ceases the buck of his hips and moves his hands down to rest over Gerard’s sides. Apologetically, he leans forward, pressing himself up against Gerard’s backside.

“Tuck the chair in, I said there’s work to be done earlier, didn’t I?”

Ray obliges, sliding one of his arms over Gerard’s waist before he uses one of his feet to send the rolling chair forward. He makes sure Gerard is close enough that she can operate her desktop’s mouse. From the looks of it, he can tell she’s not as busy as she seems.

“What’s the plan?” Ray can’t help but ask.

“You’re going to sit there and wait for me to finish this.”

Gerard motions to her desktop screen. All that’s pulled up is the menu for a Solitaire game that has yet to start.

“You’re making me sit here and watch you play solitaire.”

“Yeah, and?”

Ray goes quiet, going ahead and moving his other arm around Gerard’s torso so he’s holding her in a proper embrace. His mouth mumbles against the fabric of her blazer, a soft spoken no pressing past his lips. The two of them are closer than ever, yet he feels like he’s going to burst out of his skin if he doesn’t get any further means of contact.

“So,” Gerard trails off. The click of her mouse signifies she’s started her game, and all Ray can do is sit around and wait for her to finish. After all, the two of them are quite literally attached–not at the hip–but via coitus. “Tell me about your dinner plans, Ray. I’m interested.”

It’s almost unsettling how plainly Gerard can speak when she’s sitting on Ray’s cock. Her composure is unmatched.

“Dinner? Right, yeah. I was thinking…” Ray exhales, trying to fish for plans on the spot. If he’s being honest, he didn’t expect Gerard to ask him about this just yet. He was hoping he could ask where she’d like to eat after the two of them were off work. Looking at his current predicament, though? He doesn't think Gerard is going to let that slide. It’s not like he can change the subject, either. Gerard is in full control of their situation, and the two of them know this is no understatement.

“You were thinking?” Gerard asks, sure to continue dominating their conversation.

“Mediterranean.”

“Yeah? Where.”

Gerard squints at her computer screen, watching as the tableau is dealt into seven piles. When she sees that nothing can be dragged from one to another, she clicks on the stockpile.

Ray’s glad Gerard isn’t paying much attention to him right now. He feels like he’s grappling for thought, specifically ones that don’t involve him making any sudden moves.

“Oh, you know. That place that did the catering for the annual business meeting? Shit, the one down by Pennsylvania Plaza?”

“Oh wow, The Dynamo Room? Penn District, right, right.” Gerard is sure to punctuate her intrigue with the constant click of her mouse. Nothing seems eligible to add to any of the piles until an ace turns over to the left of the screen.

“I don’t think I’m going to beat your record time, Ray. You know, they have that oyster cellar there, right?”

Ray’s cock twitches at the first half of Gerard’s sentence. He takes a deep breath and lets the arms still lingering around her midsection give her a pathetic squeeze.

“At The Dynamo Room?”

A haphazard Uh huh presses from Gerard before another series of clicks pulls her from the dregs of their conversation. Ray manages to take a peek at the screen when he tilts his head. Gerard has barely made a dent in her solitaire game.

“They’ve got an ocean plateau for two, you know. Does the raw bar sound appetizing?”

“Raw bar. Yeah. I wouldn’t be–”

Gerard cuts Ray off, shifting ever so slightly in his lap. She doesn’t miss a beat, refusing to leave the conversation hanging in the air.

“Well, there’s also oysters meuniere, or those tomato rigatoni roasted pine nuts. I’m just throwing a few things out there, though. I’d probably have to look at the full menu to actually decide what I want. What about you, Ray? Do you know what you want?”

What Ray wants is to move. He’s already halfway through the process, cock tucked deep inside Gerard. All he needs to do is settle into the motions. All it takes is the simple grind of his hips, the languid roll of his lower half, but someone seems to be keeping him at arm’s length.

Gerard smiles as she drags several other cards towards a growing tableau. Ray can’t see the way she bites down on her bottom lip at the realization she’s filling Ray with chagrin.

“Still with me?” Gerard speaks up.

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

“About what you want?”

Another roll of clicks fills in the cracks between their conversation. Ray wonders how much time has passed since Gerard has situated herself overtop of him. It couldn’t have been that long. Of course, what does Ray know? He’s currently too caught up in trying to keep his composure in check. To no surprise, it’s even harder to do that when Gerard won’t stop trying to coax out further exchanges between the two of them.

Ray inhales, releasing the secure hold he’d been keeping around Gerard. Instead, he lets one of his hands rest on the crest of her knee. Bare skin, no coverage, it’s something new for Ray to focus on. He taps his fingers against where his hand is resting against Gerard’s knee, shifting ever so slightly under her weight.

“So?”

“So?” Ray echoes back.

“What do you want?”

“I’d have to look at the menu,” Ray admits. He almost sounds defeated. Gerard hasn’t even done anything, yet she’s still managing to leave him strung out, grappling for coherence.

“What about drinks? You’re into wine, aren’t you? You were showing me your wine cellar the first time I came over. What are you getting to drink?”

“Probably–”

“Red or white, Ray?” Gerard arches her back. She hasn’t turned to face Ray once throughout what might as well be an interrogation. She’s obviously far too engrossed in the sight of cards flitting towards designated piles.

“Red. Red wine.”

Ray had no clue his breathing could be this labored without even doing a thing. His fingers continue to drum along Gerard’s skin, deep breaths keeping him in check.

“We both know you can elaborate on that. I wouldn’t expect any less from someone with such extensive knowledge on aging and storing wine. You talked about how you renovated your basement, too, didn’t you? How you wanted a wine tasting room to pair with it so you got one.”

“Gamay. Gamay wine since it pairs nicely with fish. Seafood. All that.”

“Alright.”

Gerard seems unimpressed. Ray knows she’s just trying to drag things out so she can get a rise out of him. It’s the most push-pull encounter the two of them have had in a while, except Gerard is all push and Ray can’t quite push back just yet.

“It’s dry. Low acidity. Approachable.”

Everything Ray manages to get out is punchy to say the least. He thinks it’s better than flat-out ignoring Gerard. That in itself has its own consequences, and he’d rather not get to the bottom of what exactly doing so might entail. This alone might as well be torture. Gerard’s clearly taken it upon herself to ensure she plays the world’s slowest game of solitaire.

Ray can tell this rings true when he takes another peek at her desktop screen. Gerard’s been dragging each individual card towards their respective matches. In a sea of cruel and unusual punishments, this has got to take the cake.

“You know you can click each individual card, right? It’ll do that automatically. You don’t need to be dragging all of them towards their pair.”

“Well, yeah, but it just feels wrong.”

Gerard has got to be joking. A shrill “How” pushes past Ray’s lips, leaving his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“Hold on, hold on. How can that even feel wrong, solitaire’s so straightforward.”

“Well, it just does. Also, why would I even do that? Doesn’t it defeat the whole purpose of the game if I just let the computer play for me? Oh…look at that.”

Gerard tuts, pouting when she taps the corner of the computer. 7:21. Gerard is well over Ray’s best time.

“Looks like beating your time’s no longer on the table. That’s unfortunate, right?”

“So are you done playing–”

“Working, Ray. I’ve been working.”

“Fine. Are you done working now?” Ray bites his cheek. He has a gut feeling he’s not going to like what Gerard has to say next.

“No. I still have a game to finish, don’t I? You know, a good work-life balance is very important. ”

Ray goes quiet. He takes a deep breath, continuing to watch as Gerard’s hand proceeds to move at a grueling pace. There’s clearly no urgency on her end. He thinks if she could, she’d keep him here all night.

Gerard’s never been big on working overtime, though.

Still, Ray’s patience is wearing thin, and if he takes one last tragic misstep in the wrong direction, he thinks he might spontaneously combust right then and there.

“What do you want to do after dinner, Ray?”

Here we go again, Ray thinks. He rolls his eyes, huffing once before he presses himself against the back of Gerard’s office chair.

“I was hoping I could take you back to my house.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe. Can we order off the dessert menu?”

Gerard knows no mercy. Ray doesn’t know why he even bothered answering in the first place, given he’s fully aware of what her current gimmick is.

“Tiramisu. To share.”

A content hum manages to free itself from Gerard’s throat. For a second, she shifts again, earning a short-lived groan from Ray, who is still very much inside her.

“Get out of my head. You seriously read my mind,” Gerard exclaims.

Ray tries to laugh it off. If Gerard had said that within literally any other context, he might have seen it as endearing. Right now, though, all he can think about is how Gerard is nothing more than a perpetrator taking part in building his own personal hell. Someone might as well scribble horns and a pointy little tail over her photo on the company’s roster.

For a second, Ray thinks this is what it must be like to die and fall short of the pearly gates. He can see his headstone now: Here lies Ray Toro, died several, aching inches deep in the one he loved.

All seems lost at the moment. Ray thinks he’s never going to escape the sexual limbo Gerard has submitted him to, that is, until she speaks up again, a hint of disappointment coating her statement.

“I think I fucked myself over trying to beat your time. This is just embarrassing now,” Gerard sighs. She drops her head, frowning, before Ray manages to sneak another glance at the screen.

There are only a few more cards until Gerard can finish her game. A measly five minutes have passed since Ray last looked up, but since then, Gerard has clearly made significant progress on the world’s most grueling game of Solitaire.

“I dunno, Gerard, I’m sure people have taken longer than this.”

“I could take longer.”

Ray feels frantic at that implication. He corrects a blunder, shaking his head to emphasize how apologetic he really is.

“No, no, it’s fine. Do whatever you need to do.”

Gerard continues to scan the expanse of her computer screen. In the time Ray has last looked at her game, she’s managed to clear a generous portion of cards from the tableau.

“You know, Ray, Solitaire’s also called Patience. I think it’s for good reason.”

Ray feels a rush of panic wash over him. A lump rises in his throat, and when Gerard’s hand wanders away from her mouse, he swallows hard. Her game is nowhere near finished; she’s just wasting time at this point. It’s almost like Ray’s being tested. It feels like Gerard just wants to see how thin she can stretch him before he doesn’t have the bandwidth to tolerate her relentless teasing.

“Uh huh. Patience.”

“Speaking of which, you’ve been so patient, haven’t you, Ray? Anticipation always seems to make things better, don’t you think?”

“I think all this anticipation is going to kill me, Gerard,” Ray finally admits.

Gerard folds her hands in her lap, letting Ray’s confession settle between the two of them. To her, it feels like doing so is for good measure, like it serves as a final gap for Ray to bridge if he wants to see the result he so desires.

Ray, on the other hand, wants to protest. He wants to tell Gerard how unbearable it is to be held deep inside her and denied the chance to open any floodgates of pressure. In fact, it makes him feel like he’s scrambling for words. He decides to ditch them altogether, given that nothing he thinks of would harbor any means of structure. Feelings of contempt rise as he squirms, hands grasping at the armrests on Gerard’s office chair.

Gerard sighs, letting her head tilt back slightly. The time on her solitaire game is well past her goal. It went way over six minutes about five minutes ago. Gerard managed to get a generous handful of cards in their respective order. The stockpile has been run dry. All the aces are in their proper place, and Ray knows that if Gerard folds and gives way for a few more clicks, the screen will show the rest of them out automatically.

Once that happens, he’ll be home free, and he’ll finally be able to act on whatever drives currently have him in a chokehold.

“You’ve been so good for me. Can you hold on just a little longer so I can get these last few cards where they need to be?”

Ray’s thinking of a last-ditch effort, one that consists of him playing up desperation to get Gerard to budge. A waning mmhmm manages to slide past his lips before he allows for his chin to rest idly against one of Gerard’s blazer-bound shoulders. That’s something he does well; letting her know just how much he wants her. The thing is, Gerard has a will of steel that makes it near impossible to get her to change her mind.

The two of them operate on separate ends of a permissible spectrum when it comes to rendezvous such as this one. Gerard falls under the umbrella of being stone-cold in the sense that what she says is meant to be interpreted as law. Ray, on the other hand, is the polar opposite. If their roles were reversed, he’d probably let Gerard off scot-free the moment she started growing antsy, let alone if she even dared to ask Ray to move.

Of course, the two of them prefer things to be this way, with Gerard calling the shots and facilitating a generous portion of their expenditures deemed not safe for work. Despite any of his current qualms, specifically ones having to do with Gerard showing no signs of wanting to get him off–at least for the moment–Ray doesn’t think he’d have things any other way. There’s an underlying thrill that comes from knowing Gerard has such a strong hold over him, not to mention the way she’s keeping him in line is so, well, to get straight to the point, downright sexy.

Ray’s canines clamp down against the pink of his lips, and before he knows it, one of Gerard’s hands is reaching back to cup itself around his jaw. She holds him there for a moment, sucking her teeth before she breaks the silence she’d implemented prior.

“I know you can wait a few more minutes. You’ve heard that saying, haven’t you? Andy Warhol? You know, the idea of waiting for something makes it more exciting.”

Gerard’s free hand motions to the screen before the one around Ray’s grips at his chin a little harder.

“Fuck, Gerard,” Ray huffs. What he really wants to say is Fuck no and that he needs Gerard to stop pulling him every which way. What he ends up saying is a less-than-enthusiastic “Yeah, I can.”

Satisfied with Ray’s response, Gerard finally returns her attention to pick up where she’d left off on her game.

Ray looks over again, lips pursing into a thin white line.

King of hearts, King of spades. If Gerard puts a little more urgency behind her actions, he’ll be all over her in no time.

“One more thing,” Gerard says.

Ray takes one of his hands and rubs at the bridge of his nose. He has no idea what else Gerard could want from him, but the moment the demand rolls off her tongue, the words strike him head-on on and he can’t help but feel like he’s come alive.

“Will you tell me how you want me? How are you going to fuck me here, and how do you want me after dinner? You’re taking me home after that, aren’t you? You don’t mind bringing a bit of work home with you, do you? You’ve always been such a good sport about stuff like that. You’re always looking out for the company’s best interests.”

Gerard arches her back against Ray one last time, leaving him squirming beneath her again. This time, he shifts his weight, the sudden movement trapping him in a neat little feedback loop. The sudden movement sends a wave of pleasure through Ray, but all he can do about it is sit still and hope Gerard spares him from any ridicule within the last few moments of her game of solitaire.

The time he’s spent waiting was clearly not in vain, given the fact that Gerard is practically extending a highly anticipated olive branch for him to grab onto. All he has to do is pass one final test, then he can move and send Gerard reeling for the twenty-plus minutes of hell she’s put him through.

“Well?”

“I don’t even know where to start, Gerard, ” Ray hisses through gritted teeth. He exhales, hard and heavy, desperately trying to collect himself one last time.

“Sure you do. I know you’ve been sitting there clenching your teeth, just dying to fuck me properly. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking. If anyone else were in your position, I don’t think they’d be able to hold out this long. I don’t like to pick favorites, but you are nothing short of an exemplary worker, Ray. I really do like you, you know.”

That statement alone goes straight to the head of Ray’s cock. It makes him think of just how deep Gerard and his relationship go, and if that isn’t enough to coax a response out of him, he doesn’t know what else would be.

“Fuck, finish your game, please.”

“Say it,” Gerard commands.

“I want to fuck you over your desk. Actually, I want you on your back with your legs over my shoulders, does that sound good?”

A single click emits from Gerard’s mouse, and Ray can see her dragging one of two king cards towards its final resting place.

“And?”

“And after dinner, we can head back to my apartment. I don’t care, we can do whatever you want, I just need to have you tonight.”

Gerard thinks one of the most attractive things a man can do is beg and plead, especially when it comes to showing he cares. In this case, Ray’s gone above and beyond, fulfilling every one of Gerard’s requests, regardless of how far-fetched and over the top they’ve managed to be.

“Lucky you,” Gerard coos. “I’m all yours.”

One last click and the screen flashes with an end card reading You Won.

Ray sees it, and Gerard turns her head to catch a glimpse of his expression.

“So what was that about fucking me on my desk? You can move now, by the way.”

Ray doesn’t hesitate. Gerard’s kept him hard this whole time, and all he could do about his aching cock was smile and nod. Now? The word decorum has no meaning; Ray’s quick to buck his hips straight up, leaving Gerard groaning at the friction the two of them have been building up throughout the duration of her solitaire game.

“Good things really do come to those who wait.” Ray huffs. He pats Gerard’s thigh, trying to get her up and off of him so the two of them can reposition themselves.

“I hope you don’t mind me making a mess, Gee.”

The two of them are clearly past formalities. Their shifts are about to end, anyway. There’s no reason for either of them to keep up a front, especially when they’ve both got a one-track mind, focused on nothing but the pursuit of pleasure.

“Honestly, Ray, I don’t give a fuck about anything else right now. Just…help me clear this.”

Gerard motions to the items on her desk, sure to release Ray from her hold. When she stands, she tugs her skirt down all the way, scrambling to move an assortment of office supplies so nothing gets in the way of Ray staying true to his word.

“Let me…” Gerard trails off. Ray’s taken it upon himself to finish up the last of their impromptu cleanup, leaving Gerard to shimmy her way out of her skirt to ensure it doesn’t get caught in the crossfire of spontaneous release.

The two of them still have plans to get dinner together, and Gerard would prefer they don’t have to opt for taking a detour for the sole purpose of freshening up, more so changing clothes entirely.

“All good?” Ray asks. Gerard’s desk is as clear as it can get, the exception being her desktop and keyboard, which are far enough off to the side that they don’t serve as much of a concern for either of them. Thank god for U shaped desks.

“I will be once you’re back inside me. Sounds fucking great, doesn’t it?”

Gerard hops up onto her desk and eases her back down onto it. Ray stares adamantly at the way she spreads herself out for him; legs parting, cock flushed, precome glazing the skin around her naval. It’s something to behold, yet there’s no time to appreciate the sight before him.

If Ray were to wait any longer, it might just drive him mad.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, Gee.”

“I already know that!” The words come out strained. Ray hasn’t even done a thing, and Gerard’s already trying to grip the surface of her desk. Her hands move along its top, but they can’t seem to find anything to cling onto.

There’s no further hesitation on Ray’s end. Gerard is past thoroughly prepped, meaning when he pulls her close and aligns his tip with her hole, he slides in with barely any resistance.

The initial sink leaves Gerard throwing one of her arms over her head. She cries out, pursing her lips straight after in an attempt to save her dignity.

“This feels even better than before, are you fucking kidding me?”

Gerard tries to adjust how she’s got her legs, trying to guide them into a more comfortable position. Ray meets her halfway, quick to place his hands along the sides of her hips. He does this all for the sake of clueing her into the position he wants her in.

“Fuck, you’re a piece of work.” Gerard groans. She caves, bringing her legs up just a bit more so the pits of her knees barely grace the crests of Ray’s shoulders.

Seashell. Gerard can feel the burning stretch in her hamstrings. The position itself borders on juvenile; the way she’s over exposed, overly eager to be railed within an inch of her life.

Ray’s already fucking into her, trying to make up for wasted time, too. He leans into Gerard a bit more, making sure the feeling doesn’t just graze surface level.

Gerard swears under her breath, eyes squeezing shut when the head of Ray’s cock meets her prostate. There’s a strange mix of sensation: deep tissue and internal, leaving her holding her breath. This is the push to her initial pull; with the right amount of pressure, she’ll crack.

Ray’s fallen into a steady rhythm of thrusts. He’s practically looming over Gerard at this point, strands of hair clinging to his forehead with the sweat he’s just begun to work up.

“Jesus, fuck. I’m not gonna last.” Ray admits. It’s embarrassing to say the least, but his reasons are justifiable. He realizes he’s moving things along all too quickly.

“Me neither.” Gerard almost sounds disappointed. Ray’s got her folded in half, legs raised, and calves now resting comfortably overtop his shoulders.

Gerard’s half-naked, gloves, dress-shirt, and heels were still intact. She looks like something straight out of a movie, one where Ray and she star in it together. It's filthy, something too risqué to bring up unless the two of them want to face the swift hand of workplace misconduct.

“Fuck, Ray, and you want to take me home after this?”

Ray nods frantically, a series of swears trudging through an insubstantial train of thought, when he lets his head fall forward. Both of his hands are splayed out alone at the top of Gerard’s desk, supporting his weight as he continues to piston deep into her.

Gerard seems to be struggling as well; the way her face flits through a panel of strained expressions serves as a dead giveaway. The only thing missing from this equation is her skirt, but Ray realizes it’s less of a constraint, keeping it off for the time being.

“Fuck, you don’t know how worked up that— that solitaire shit had me.”

Gerard’s mouth hangs open, and for a second, no sound comes out. She swallows hard, teeth clicking together for a second when her brain manages to recalibrate and connect with the rest of her body.

“Save it,” she finally spits. Gerard manages to raise a finger, haphazardly pointing it right at Ray. The sentiment is short-lived. She’s not going to last, and the best part is she thinks she might finish before Ray does.

There’s a coiling sensation building up in the pit of her stomach, not to mention the muscles in her legs feel drum-tight. She wants to drop her current position, but knows there’s no chance of that.

Ray slows his pace, trying to keep himself from shooting off right then and there. He moves in and out, keeping an erratic pace almost as if to keep Gerard on her toes. Ray’s sure to drink in the sight of her ever-changing expressions, keeping himself in tune with her body. He pays close attention to the way her legs start twitching whenever he manages to hit her prostate spot-on.

With the way he’s fucking her, Gerard can’t help but begin to believe this is Ray’s way of getting even.

“You—”

“Are you close?” Ray cuts her off. He slides his hand under her shirt, letting it bunch up and expose a tender expanse of flesh he can’t refuse his hand the pleasure of sinking into.

At this point, Gerard feels obliged to sit back and let Ray do all the work. She throws her head back, feeling it hit the top of her desk, hard.

“Oh, shit! Are you okay?”

Gerard groans, letting her eyes roll back before she retorts.

“Just finish me off, Ray, I’m so fucking close, I’m going to—”

“Whatever you want.” Ray doesn’t even let Gerard close her statement before he bottoms out. He can tell she’s getting tired of holding the same position for so long.

“Fuck, you’re so great.” Gerard trails off, a shallow moan ejecting itself from her throat. “Employee of the fucking month—”

“Shh! We’re in a meeting!”

Ray doesn’t miss a beat. The hand that isn’t currently pressing down on Gerard’s stomach moves to slide over her mouth in an attempt to stifle unwanted attention.

Gerard’s eyes open wide before it clicks; she’s being too loud.

“Oops,” She mumbles through Ray’s palm.

Once he’s certain Gerard won’t make the same mistake twice, he drops the hand over her mouth to support the back of one of her legs. He can feel the way it's flexed, overexerted, and attempting to accommodate for the way he’s managed to keep her folded in two.

“C’mon, Gee, you can let go now.”

Ray won’t say it out loud, but he knows he’s functioning within deeper contexts of want than Gerard is. Despite having to wait longer than her, he still manages to put her first.

That, for one, is never going to change.

Gerard feels compressed to say the least. It’s like, at any minute, she could lose all elasticity waiting for Ray to give her what she wants. She doesn’t care about sounding needy—she’s all wound up, ready for Ray to give her a run for her money.

It won’t take much prodding, either. All he really needs to do is push her over the edge, and soon she’ll be sputtering, seeing stars, and trying to keep her head on straight.

Ray doesn’t even bother beating around the bush, either. Ray’s well-versed in drawing things out of Gerard. Once he picks up on how Gerard’s breathing has changed, he dials it back before his brows are furrowed together and he’s back to bucking up and into Gerard.

“Oh my fucking god—” Gerard exclaims.

Ray knows not to get too comfortable just yet. It’s almost second nature how quickly he springs into action. He won’t know peace if he doesn’t keep Gerard quiet.

“Shh,” He hisses one last time.

Gerard doesn’t bother snapping back. Instead, her mouth is left wide open. An invitation. Ray lurches forward and catches her in a kiss. It’s meant to serve as a buffer more than anything else, but it still manages to get heated within its short span.

Everything is sloppy, languid rolls of the tongue, leaving Ray groaning when Gerard pushes back and sucks on his bottom lip. He does a good job of keeping her quiet for the most part.

By the time he’s pulling away, she’s too blissed out to put much effort into any other task. When Ray finally pulls away, she whines and moans as a last-ditch effort to keep him right where he is.

“Gee, hold on, I—I haven’t even finished yet.” Ray mumbles. “Give me a break, baby.”

He doesn’t know how Gerard has it in her to be that clingy, especially when he can tell she’s nearly spent and practically grasping for straws.

Ray made sure to work her down to the bone, too. He just hopes she doesn’t mind that he plays around just a bit longer. All he really has to do is find his original tempo. He had a good thing going earlier; it shouldn’t be too hard to pick up where he had left off.

“All good?” He asks one last time, letting his hips snap straight into Gerard. He barely even registers what she says in response to his question. It’s something between the lines of “Oh my god” and “Hurry up”.

Ray’s back into the basic swing of things, one resilient thrust ensuring his orgasm’s nothing short of visceral. His shoulders tense up and raise before his legs buckle underneath him. Unlike Gerard, he can keep quiet. For a second, Ray thinks he’s going to bite straight through his tongue. Coherency is beyond him. Ray shudders, feeling the euphoria lap away at him.

There’s nothing on Ray’s mind save for how Gerard was right; The idea of waiting for something makes it more exciting.

“Consider this…” Ray trails off, trying to stop himself from falling forward. “Over time. Compensation. Less payroll for you to oversee. Thanks,” he continues, putting his hands out at both sides of her to keep himself held steady.

“Down.” Gerard groans. She pats Ray’s bicep, signaling she’s had enough of being in seashell. Ray nods, letting her legs drop back against her desk, watching her feet dangle off its edge.

“Clock out. Take me to dinner. Raw bar. Oysters.” Gerard’s just saying anything at this point. She’s very clearly trying to bring herself back down to equilibrium.

“Give me a sec,” Ray sighs, falling back into Gerard’s office chair. He runs the back of his hand over his forehead, feeling the beads of sweat catch along his skin.

The two of them take the lull in conversation as a sign to catch their labored breaths. Ray peeks over, watching as Gerard’s chest rises and falls. She’s sprawled out on her desk, eyes shut tight.

“Do you want me to punch us out?”

“Yes.”

Ray nods, pursing his lips. The punch-clock is just down the hall. He rethinks his decision, clearing his throat.

“But just, you know. Give me a second.” He motions to his lower half; much like Gerard, he’s naked from the waist down.

“Sure, sure.” Gerard waves a hand dismissively, looking down at her button-down clinging to her sweat-slick skin.

“What’s the verdict? The major takeaway from our meeting?”

Ray crosses his arms, waiting to see what Gerard has to say now.

“Well, one thing is for sure: we need to stop at my apartment.” Gerard declares, sitting up to emphasize her point. “I’m not going out to dinner after wearing this. Not after what my poor blouse has been through.”

“Agreed, but I dunno, maybe the waitstaff will dig your post-coital chic. It looks good on you.”

Gerard shakes her head, finger curling, telling Ray come here.

Ray drags one of his feet against the floor, bringing himself closer to Gerard, who’s now seated on top of her desk.

Gerard leans forward, resting her elbows against her knees.

“Don’t you want to get me to that point, though? I mean, post-coital chic is a two-person job, you know. It takes a bit of effort to make someone look this disheveled.”

“Isn’t that for after dinner, though?” Ray looks down when Gerard grips his tie in her hand. She pulls him forward, keeping a minuscule amount of space between the two of them. When she speaks again, Ray can feel the warmth of her breath against his lips.

“Well, dinner is a given, but you’re not looking at the bigger picture: I’m insisting you come over, Ray. I’m shooting for two out of three.”

“Whoa, three?” Ray grins, pecking at Gerard’s lips. He abides by the fine line of keeping things chaste. Ray doesn’t think he could go for another round—not right now at least— and has a feeling Gerard’s also looking for some downtime after all that over exertion.

“Not here, though. We’ve still got to clean up, punch out, and put our clothes on. You know. Look presentable. We are at work, after all.”

Ray nods, affirmatively. He whistles long and low, echoing the tail end of what Gerard said.

“Two out of three. Wow.”

“I won’t make you wait around this time.” Gerard pecks Ray’s lips for good measure before dropping his tie. She smooths it out with her hand, continuing. “Does that make up for the solitaire thing?”

“We can cross that bridge after we get past round three.”

Ray shakes his head, sitting up in his chair.

“We will. Three rounds.” Gerard puts up three fingers in emphasis.

“Do you think you’re going to be able to hold out that long? I don’t want you falling asleep on me by the time we make it back to my apartment.”

“I’m not going to, I swear. Also, who said the third round had to be tonight? I’m not opposed to a little wake-up call.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Should I make a reservation, then?”

“After.”

“After what?”

Gerard waves a hand dismissively, sure to crack a smile when she tells Ray what she expects to go down.

“Round two, obviously.”