Archive of Our Own

"Him? Why him? Why couldn't it be Phyllis, or that Karen from the typing pool?"

"Annie, I – I'm so sorry...we just..."

"Don't give me your excuses, please! Don't you dare try and justify what I saw in there. You disgust me. I'll collect some of my stuff tonight and the rest when you're not there."

"It wasn't meant to be like this. I'm weak, Annie. I couldn't help myself."

"Letting him suck your nuts in a public place. You know better, but he's just a man trapped in a squirrel's body. Weak, defenceless and furry. How could you, Sam?!"

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Sam. Just his name was enough to send an electric charge from head to groin. Memories of eyes flashing with desire and heat; dark, all-consuming. A mouth searching across skin as if trying to find the answers to all the questions falling in the spaces between their bodies.

A twisted, burning flame spreading from his gut and consuming his very soul. A heart reduced to ashes from the guilt that followed every time Gene came in Sam's hands.

Hoping, and praying; desperate that this would never stop. Knowing it had to, before Sam's wife found out.

Annie deserved better.

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It never occurred to him to mind the punches to the gut; the sniping to the team that made them snigger and smirk.

It never occurred to him to mind; he knew once the office was empty, he'd be trapped against the nearest hard surface – with their hands, and hard cocks, and their desperate need weaving through each other's hot breath. The world fell away around them and it never occurred to either of them to mind.

It never occurred to Sam that being spread across the desk as Gene slid inside him was for any other reason than love.

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"You're staring at me, Gladys. Must be because you've never seen such an outstanding specimen of manhood before. Well, if you are going to stand there with yer mouth hangin' open like that, put it to some use, get down on yer knees, and start drinkin' from the love pump of the Manc lion."

"Gene...you...you've...only got...where's the other one?!"

"What?! Oh, that. Accident during National Service. Though as you can clearly see, my little deputy dawg, I'm still hung like a midget's arm holdin' an apple – and ready for action. Now stop burblin', and start suckin'..."