(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

Anonymous asked
Ironflint, Alex finally gets the goody two shoes intern to fuck him.

hi anon! guess what! i was thinking about how to do your prompt. and actually i came up with something that really ISN’T your prompt. hey, did you know i’m the worst human ever? there’s barely even any porn! i just wanted to write a super rad queer woman, i guess. that’s what’s up.

Alex is not actually involved in the hiring of the woman who he sees in the shit desk in the design department. He makes a note, for what must be the thirtieth time, to buy a desk that doesn’t have a thing wedged under the corner to stop it from rattling. He’s actually looking for that fucking cockwad Meade, who seems to have been told of him in advance and fucked off.

The woman is definitely new. Alex is good at faces, and she’s recognizable. Every queer sense in his head goes off. The office is traditional, and he’s barely gotten away with having long hair - but she somehow has managed to do her makeup in the way that makes her jaw more square, and her hair is just the right length between can i speak to the manager and businesswoman. and the dress - something about the dress, maybe the square shoulders, maybe –

“Hi, have we met?” she says.

“Now we have,” he recovers, “I’m looking for Rich Meade. Have you seen him?”

“He’s out for lunch,” she says, “I’m Leslie. New design intern.”

“Alex Hamilton. I’m Mr. Washington’s assistant.”

She has a stronger handshake than he expected.

She seems to take him in just as well, perhaps some ringing sense in her head seeing the bruises under his clothes. “It’s nice to meet you, Alex. What do you like to do, when you’re not assisting?”

“I do a lot of assisting. But I also like to watch TV and read.” Maybe a little hurry for get fucked, although part of him thinks it wouldn’t go over that badly. “What about you?”

“I’m into art, like most designers are. And craft beer.”

“I like craft beer,” Alex replies, although what he really means is he likes being shitfaced, “Can I buy you one?”

“Sure,” she says.


**

Her name is in fact Bethany, but he keeps that to himself. When they meet for drinks she wears a sleeveless t-shirt and has a brilliant tattoo sleeve which curls away from his eyes. She talks about beer; he listens, but really he’s spending most of his time trying to figure out what the best way to get into her pants will be. It’s funny, the last woman he remembers wanting to fuck was Eliza, and she’s - well, she’s into dresses and makeup and she would never, as Leslie tells him, consider shaving off all of her hair.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” He asks her one day. She takes him in, maybe doubts, for a second, because she has a vibe that he’s bad news, which she seems to now be ignoring.

“Sure,” She says.

**

The cleaning person just came two days ago, and as a result his mess is only relatively messy, and not disastrous. Alex thinks one of those design motherfuckers must have been telling Leslie what the fuck he likes in attempt to shame him or something, but joke’s on them, because now some queer hot chick is pushing him up against his apartment door and biting his throat.

“Jesus, you don’t play easy, do you?” she says, when he gets his shirt off.

“I work hard and play hard,” he replies. She laughs.

“Do you have a safeword?”

“Nah, fuck that shit.”

Leslie frowns at him. “I’m not gonna be your mom here or anything, but you know.”

“Whatever, Les.” his hands finds her shirt, slide it off. Bra next. More of her pushing him against the door and hardly even letting him grind off against her. The tattoo, he finds out, is a huge Asian dragon thing, which she explained, but he wasn’t listening.

It’s actually not too bad, doing the fucking. They have a good thing too, share the hobby of mind-altering substances and kink, even if he keeps his more exciting escapades to himself.

“Hey,” he says, after one of their events. “You should fuck me.”

“Why did you wait so long to ask?” He double-takes, and she laughs. “It’s not hard to tell.”

“I have plenty of toys,” he says, and he points to the closet. “I bet you can even fuck me tonight and I”ll get off on it.”

“You’re so fucked up,” Leslie says, half-affectionate. She crawls off bed. He gets the lube out of the drawer, sighs as he opens himself up for her.