(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

"So," Alex is saying to him, plugging in his iPad to Washington's monitor, "This is the kid."

He points to a man, late 20's at best, in mid-shout. The kid is sort of generically unthreatening - no tattoos or piercing, soulful eyes, average build.

"He doesn't look familiar," Washington says.

"He's new," Alex replies, and he folds his hands across his chest, "He was basically on this thing to just add warm body. John said he was acting super anxious? And thought he might be some kind of bait, so he kept an eye on him. But then the kid - Ben - looks at him and goes 'we're walking into a trap' and John, because he's an idiot, was like 'Nice!' and Ben was like 'No, like, we're all going to be arrested.' So the kid goes to talk to Lee, running the raid, but Lee's like 'go fuck yourself,' but Lee can put his face in a juice press, but then John says Ben was like 'We're gonna get caught, we're gonna get caught' and he's making a scene, forcing the situation. So John, because he's an idiot, goes and checks out the place even though Ben's actions kind of threw off the whole thing, and guess what?"

"It was a trap."

"Cameras and fucking trick walls everywhere."

"Huh," Washington says, and sits back in the chair, "Did you talk to Ben about it?"

"Yeah, but he wasn't exactly Sherlock Holmes on me. He was just like 'I knew' 'I saw this' 'Lee was acting weird'... blah blah. I mean, obviously new. Barely knew who I was, even. But seemed like he was trying his best."

Washington folds his arms across his chest and stroked his chin. "Reward him. What does he want?"

Alex smirks. "Well, I wrote a check, but he wasn't like, amazing thrilled about it, so then we just got to talk about how ended up here, he said his dad was a reverend or something, I don't know, daddy issues, blah blah. I said 'oh, that's neat, so do you have a girlfriend?' and he was like 'Boyfriend. But no.' So then I was like 'Oh, you're queer? Hey, me too. And you know, this is a very queer-friendly workplace. Do you have like, a thing?' And he got all embarrassed, but I needled it out of him."

Washington quirks an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"He's into older guys," Alex says, pointedly looking Washington up and down. "Powerful older guys. That will, you know. Hold him down a little. Make him beg, be rough." He clears his throat. "Now. Who do I know who fits that profile, likes younger men, and especially ones that, you know, don't mind being knocked around a little?"

There's a very long pause. Washington looked from his assistant, then to the noted man in the picture, still paused on his screen, and then back. "You sincerely are suggesting I reward this stranger, even though he saved us a fair bit of money and jailtime, by having sex with him. That seems dangerous. Not even all the regular associated dangers of having sex with strangers, but also he could murder me mid-coitus."

"Danger is the spice of life. And he's STD free. We talked about it." Alex lifted his hands in mock-surrender. "Of course, don't take my word for it. But I did notice he had very pretty lips, and I'm sure they would like really, really good choking on your dick."

Washington sighs.

**

The kid is very handsome in real life. He looks strong enough to run a little while, but he's no body builder. Average height, average weight. The soulful eyes are more soulful in real life. His lips are really soft-looking, and Washington curses his long-time assistant for putting inappropriate thoughts in his head. Washington is a man of sensible control and the danger of intimacy, but he is only human, and once the scent in his nose, it's hard to shake it out. Especially because Alex was right - Ben is in many ways just his type, soft around the edges, young and pretty. The kind of thing Washington would have zero issues fucking his sweet mouth for a little while, or maybe even bending him over his desk and getting deep inside what he's sure is a deliciously tight ass. Or maybe even - well, he steadies his thoughts.

There's something anxious about Ben as he stands before him, like a deer. He stands straight in Washington's office and forces himself, with evident strain, not to flinch. There's fear but he's working hard to suppress. There's the what is going to happen to me anxiety that he's trying quite hard not to fall too. It's all quite lovely, and going on right in front of him. Washington doesn't lick his lips, but he thinks about it. He definitely wants.

"You did good work for us, Mr. Tallmadge," Washington says, standing up from where he was sitting behind his desk. he folds his hands behind his back and studies the kid, looking down his nose at him. "Usually, it can take quite a while to become distinguished."

"I don't see any reason to wait to do the best I can for the organization, sir," Ben - Benjamin Tallmadge, he now knows - answers. His voice is firm and doesn't shake. Good. Ben follows him with his eyes as he comes closer. Washington reaches and evens out the collar of Ben's polo shirt, watching him with intent. He catches the flicker in the man's throat and the tiny little intake of breath at his touch. He doesn't smile, but it's a very close thing.

"That's an attitude that will take you far, here," Washington replies, and he steps back, walking in a very slow circle around Ben to take him in. His jeans are nice, though perhaps a size too small. They do well at highlighting the lines of his legs and the curve of his ass. No suit, perhaps. Well, running away from your family to join the mob is usually not done with an extensive budget, unless you're a French heir.

"I hope it does," Ben says. Ben doesn't turn his head to meet Washington's study, instead staring straight ahead and letting Washington take him in. It's very nice. A good sign. Washington's fingers feel a spark, an urge to touch. He'd like to fit his hands to Ben's hips and press his front to that very lovely backside.

"You saved us a lot of money and a lot of good people," Washington says, and he walks back over to his desk, though he doesn't quite sit down. "I know that my associate Mr. Hamilton gave you a bonus. I was wondering if there was anything we could provide you with, to thank you for your loyalty. Clothes or cars, or whatever else you like."

"I don't need anything, sir," Ben says, and he bows his head.

"How noble," Washington leans against his desk, studies Ben down his nose, "This isn't usually a business noble people get into." There's a pause, and he looks away, and then back. "You know," he continues again, "If you wanted something else, I'm sure it could be provided."

A hint of a frown appears on the corner of Ben's lip. "Excuse me?"

Washington doesn't respond, but he steps closer again, reaching out and tracing his thumbs down the line of Ben's neck. He can feel Ben's heartbeat pounding away there, and a little warmth to the skin. Ben looks at him, with bright, questioning eyes, and those pretty lips that Washington would like to have at his groin. "It's important to me to make sure my employees know they are valued," he says, and his hands slide down Ben's shoulders, idly down the starched front of his polo. "So while I can offer familiar things, if something unfamiliar or unusual might be desired, it can be arranged."

Ben stares at him like he's grown a second head. His mouth hangs open, words clearly lodged in his throat. "I wouldn't want to impose," he says, finally.

"Impose?" Washington repeats, and he walks in a slow half circle to behind Ben again, and this time he does not deny himself. He presses his front against Ben's back, and lets Ben feel the beginning stirrings of his desire. Ben doesn't move - doesn't even flinch, doesn't pull away, doesn't even look at him. What Ben does is lift his chin and look resolutely forward, his hands clasped in front of him.

"A guy like you is probably too busy for a guy like me," Ben says, and fails to disguise the evident want in his voice.

"I think a guy like me decides who I have time for," Washington replies, breathing directly into his ear. Ben shudders, and to Washington's great delight, presses back against him.

"I'm a nobody," Ben says, and Washington's fingers work his belt open.

"You are, aren't you?" Washington echoes. He keeps one hand on Ben's hip to keep him close, and he slides the other into Ben's boxers, taking his half-hard cock in hand. Ben nods, and Washington feels the moan held back. "But you're a loyal and intelligent little nobody."

"Thank you," Ben says, breathlessly. His hips are moving in a deliciously maddening way against Washington's front, and his cock is stiffening nicely in his hand. Washington lets go, takes Ben's balls in his hand and gives them a rough squeeze.

"Thank you?"

"Thank you, sir," Ben corrects, and Washington bites his ear as a reward, gets a moan only half-suppressed this time.

"So," he says, and he pulls his hand out of Ben's open jeans, but makes sure his cock stays inside, pressing against his zipped-up fly, "If there's anything I can do for you, to express my gratitude, now would be the time to tell me."

"You... you can," Ben gasps out, and he reaches out, grabs Washington's wrist, and pulls it back to the bulge, "Yeah. You can."

"Oh, good," Washington replies. He doesn't let the hand guide him, though. He twists out of it with ease and instead squeezes Ben's crotch through the handful of his jeans and boxers underneath. Ben bites his lip and makes a lovely little sound, so Washington squeezes harder, strokes him through the material. It’s nice, how Ben pushes up into his hold, how Ben grinds himself shamelessly into Washington’s hand. He thinks he could listen to Ben’s desperate little gasps and moans for a while, just from rubbing him off through his jeans. Maybe this is the sort of asset that can be put to other purposes, rather than trying to look threatening when they peddle drugs and guns. After all, he does have a very stressful work environment. He might be improved having a pretty young thing like this, clearly extremely into their present activities, kept around for when he needs him.

“Christ,” Ben says.

Washington slides under Ben’s shirt, feeling out the strength of his stomach. Athletic. He digs his short nails in, hears Ben gasp, feels his hips jerk. He pushes Ben back against him, lets Ben feel where he’s straining against his boxers. He wants - definitely fucking wants - but he needs to be measured about it. You’d never catch him giving completely over to his lust and grinding his clothed cock into a man’s hand.

“Sir, I--” Ben stammers, wriggling like a beached fish in his grip.

“Words, Mr. Tallmadge,” he says, but he knows the way Ben sounds, and the way Ben feels, and the way Ben obviously aches for him all over. He gives Ben an extra firm squeeze, and Ben’s back goes tight against his front, and Ben sputters out a ragged gasp and comes in his jeans, shaking with the force of his orgasm. Washington smiles a hidden smile into the man’s hair and takes more of Ben’s weight.

“Sir, I,” Ben says again, and this time Washington can hear the embarrassment, “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He asks, keeping his voice meandering and casual. His hand hasn’t strayed from crotch of Ben’s jeans, and when he gives the man another experimental squeeze, he’s rewarded with a delicious gasp. It sounds good enough that he keeps doing it, even though he can tell Ben’s soft now. But still sensitive, apparently - very sensitive. Worth further speculation.

In between his needy little whines, Ben does get some words out. “Let me -- you -- for you--”

It makes enough sense that Washington stops his torture, so that Ben can wrangle back the threads of his consciousness.

“I want you,” Ben manages, after a few moments, “Let me suck your dick. Please.”

“Hmm,” Washington says, and he brings the hand on Ben’s stomach out of his shirt and twists it expertly in his collar. Ben gags, but he doesn’t try to fight it as Washington drags him, half-suffocated, to the other side of his desk. “You did do a lot for us,” he adds, and only the smallest amount of pressure is required to bring Ben to his knees. Ben gets the hint quick enough when he settles into his chair, and he licks his lips without thinking, those pretty lips now spit-slick. Washington only needs to cast him one what are you waiting for? look, and then Ben’s hands are flying at his belt buckle and wrestling him out of his slacks. The enthusiasm, if nothing else, has a certain kind of charm to it. Ben sucks his dick like this is the last dick he is ever going to suck. Ben fucks his own mouth against Washington’s cock. It’s a spectacular show, wet and messy and insistent, and Washington should be upset at the spit soaking his boxers but he’s distracted by the groans Ben makes deep in his throat, by the wonderful-looking stretch of his lips, by the magnificently tight heat of his mouth.

He thinks about bending Ben over his desk and fucking what’s sure to be his tight hole, but in the end that seems like so much effort, to prepare him and then fuck him, what with the fact that he’s already got this exquisite throat swallowing around him. He comes with a groan, and Ben doesn’t pull away, practically slurps him down. It’s only when Washington reaches down and gives the boy’s hair a tug does he finally pull away.

He’s catching his breath when he looks down and notices. Ben’s hard again, his eyes focused on that, when they manage to focus at that. Washington smiles a little smile. What a desperate thing that’s rescued him.

“Come here,” he says, and pats his lap. Ben wobbles to his feet, unsteady, but eventually between the two of them they manage to get Ben in his lap, Washington’s hands pulling his renewed erection from his stained jeans and stroking him with something like tenderness. Ben whimpers and balls his fists, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he presses back into Washington’s chest, letting his head loll. It’s a wonderful way to hear those moans, and it even gives him a perfect angle to watch Ben find the energy, somewhere, to fuck up into his fist. It takes almost nothing to get him staining his polo shirt with his come, and when he comes down he’s barely solid against Washington’s chest.

“How many times can you come in one night?”

Ben doesn’t seem to hear the question at first, but then Washington drags his fingers across Ben’s cockhead.

“Four,” Ben says, gasping, as Washington keeps stroking him, despite his plaintive whimpers.

“Well,” Washington says, “We’ll work up to that.”