(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

His condo smelled like cooking when he opened the door. Alex, definitely, mostly because he was sure he hadn’t hired the chef today. He hung the jacket on the coatrack. If he concentrated, he could hear his assistant muttering, as was his habit, although he couldn’t make out the words exactly. Toed off his shoes, thought about the upcoming pitch they were making in Virginia. He’d put Alex on the case, despite some competition from their foreign partners. But his assistant occasionally needed to be rewarded with actual projects, even that he felt him more useful immediately by his side. It was a delicate, rewarding thing, to manipulate the other man. The way to get the best use out of him was to occasionally give in, and so he did.

Alex was wearing only his shirt and slacks in the kitchen where he was stirring a cast-iron pan. His sleeves had been rolled up. The top of a hickey was visible with his collar unstarched. A closed pot was there too. From hear, he confirmed his guess that the man was thinking about Yorktown. They had rivals for the project. Alex knew. It was important.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, getting two glasses and pouring them rye.

“Pasta with tomatoes and stuff,” Alex answered, without looking back at him. He stirred the pan for a moment. Then: “I was thinking about Yorktown. There’s no way Cornwallis and his assholes can compete with us. They just don’t have the resources. Especially not after your thin with that French guy. It’s a good thing you have me to point these things out to you.” He looked over his shoulder and grinned. “I think I deserve a reward.”

“A reward?” Washington echoed, picking up the morning’s newspaper from the table and unfolding it, eyes scanning over the headlines.

“Yeah, a reward,” Alex said from the other side of the newspaper. He heard the sound of what he guessed to be a handful of pasta going into a pot of boiling water.

“Well,” he said, and folded the newspaper down, finding the relevant article he wanted to read about a local politician’s scandal. Seemed unlikely the business tax they had been promoting would get much more play now, “What kind of reward do you want? A bonus?”

“Fuck a raise,” Alex responded, turning down the heat on his pan and leaning against the cabinetry. Washington tilted his head, and Alex laughed. “I don’t know how you’d do that. I mean, I could just put the money in my ass, but I don’t really feel like that’s being fucked by a raise. That’s just putting money in your ass. And I feel like putting the money in a dildo or something isn’t really serious either.”

Washington suppressed the sigh and put the newspaper back on the table. Alex meandered over to him. Smirked a familiar smirk and reached out, pushing out invisible wrinkles. Washington reached around and pulled the hair tie from his man’s dark hair, letting it fall around his shoulders. It felt good, to run his fingers through Alex’s hair. A pull at the end, and Alex’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Have you ever been to Taiwan?” He asked. Alex shook his head, lulled into silence when Washington pulled on his hair. Yes, he knew how to calm his assistant down, in his way. “Or we could do something more unusual. I’ve heard that Nairobi is a good destination.”

“Kenya?” Alex echoed. A bit of pressure on his shoulder and he sunk to his knees without complaint. “Really?”

“Would you prefer an island of tropical savages?” He leaned back against the refrigerator, stroking Alex’s hair and listen to the soft simmer of water and low-heat tomatoes.

“Fuck you, I didn’t mean it like that,” Alex snapped, but he seemed to discard the jibe entirely after that, fingers working at the button of his slacks. Even though his boxers, Alex’s hand felt good, rough and soft, stroking him with the ease of practice.

“Yes, you did,” he replied, and gave his hair another tug, “But I’ll still reward you, because it’s more important we have good business relationships than your casual racism.” There was no response to this, just Alex pulling his boxers down and pressing his face into Washington’s groin, his breathing uncharacteristically even. He took Washington, even soft, into his mouth, a little groan coming from his lips.

It felt good to run the dark hair through his fingers, imagine the eager stroke of Alex’s tongue against him, listen to the little labored breaths hissed through Alex’s noise. His assistant was certainly useful in more ways than he’d previously imagined, and perhaps this was further than he preferred to push it, but it was not a matter of dropping a lost cause. The switch had been flipped to add this tangled thing to their relationship, as peculiar as it had already been. Very little, Washington thought, sighing as he hardened up with the attention, was really much different.

He took two handfuls of hair in his fists and gave a sharp pull, and the groan in response vibrated all the way up his spine. Another tug, and another groan, and this time he hissed pleasure. Hard to imagine rewarding another person could so hot in his stomach, really. He had rewarded plenty of people in plenty of ways, but was more for the positive reinforcement than anything else. But rewarding Alex, especially Alex on his knees and working him in his mouth, certainly brought with it additional benefits. Alex knew very well how to please him, and he in turn knew what his assitant liked, in their activities. And wasn’t it nice that they were compatible here, like they often seemed elsewhere?

“Mm,” he rumbled, as Alex pressed his mouth close, and Washington felt the flutter of his throat to accommodate him. The heat and tightness of it was exquisite, and better with each thrust, each desperate little pull of air Alex took, each time he drew slick lips across the sensitive shaft of his cock. “I hope you’re feeling very rewarded.”

Alex pulled his mouth away and Washington pulled on his hair again, harder this time. His assistant just laughed, cleared his throat, coughed. Then, wiping his chin of drool and the few tears just barely hiding, he met Washington’s eyes. “Well, rewarded enough,” he answered, voice satisfyingly hoarse, “But I could feel more rewarded. And honestly I feel like I should feel more rewarded.”

“I don’t think you’ve done so much to be that much more rewarded,” Washington answered, calm as he stroked his hand through Alex’s hair, and each time Alex waited for the tug and was disappointed, “You did well. But we haven’t won yet. And there’s no reason to reward you for a victory we haven’t accomplished.”

Alex frowned. “Excuse me,” he replied, and only Washington’s hand moving to his shoulder stopped him from standing up again, “This is not like a dog-bone situation. What if I’m not motivated? I could… get distracted and start working on something else. You never know.” A sneer.

Washington quirked an eyebrow and let his hand stroke down the two-day stubble along Alex’s jaw. He considered the option. In truth, there wasn’t any reason to deny his man. There was a good reason to keep him happy, because it was never a bad idea to keep your employees happy, and moreso when it cost you nothing or very little to do so. Keeping a valuable employee was practically, if not more important, than finding them in the first place.

“What could I do to persuade you?” He asked, taking his cock in his hand and drawing it across Alex’s lips. The man’s eyes fluttered shut again - good. All it took was the slightest push and Alex’s throat was fluttering against him again. A swallow, and it shook, and Washington groaned. “Maybe we could go to Johannesburg,” he said, fake-thoughtful, holding Alex’s mouth more forcefully against him, keeping his cock lodged in the back of Alex’s throat and listening to the rasp of breath through his nose. “That place has a nice history of white supremacy.”

Alex tried to complain, but it was a series of inarticulate noises, drool on his slacks, and the press of that sweet tongue against him. Better. He pushed his hips forward into that sweet mouth, felt it tight around him, the pressure of being forced to accommodate. Wonderful, to have just let himself fuck deep into that sweet mouth, to feel Alex gradually adjust, go soft in his hands and let himself be used. His dysfunctional little tool. His poisoned well which he went back to, over and over.

He took another firm grip on Alex’s hair and pushed him back, pulled him forward. It was a sight, to watch his cock slide in and out of those lips, to see the little tears that formed at the corner of his eyes, to watch the drool drip from his lips. Alex’s hands clenched his thighs. He’d have to get his pants dry-cleaned. It was fine. It was a worth cost in comparison to the benefit, that throat swallowing around him, pressure and lava-fire warmth and the desperate noises Alex made. He held him tight to his groin, thrust forward, came with a gasp as Alex choked and gagged, acting without thinking.

His legs felt wobbly under him. The refrigerator was cold on his back. The sonata of Alex trying to breathe held him like a lover. He held the pose for a moment, then released the man’s hair, watch him pull away sputtering and coughing. His assistant looked good, sprawled awry on the floor. For a few moments there was just breathing, and then Alex began to move his hand toward the bulge in his slacks.

Washington pressed the toe of his loafer to Alex’s wrist. Alex glared up at him.

“Earn it,” he said. There was a pause, where Washington presumed Alex was trying to decide how much better it would be to earn it, versus the immediate gratification of getting himself off on the kitchen floor.

Alex slowly pulled his hand away. His eyes were dark, and unfriendly little smile had settled in his lips. Finally, wiping his mouth, he stood and went to the sink to wash his hands.

“You owe me for that,” he said, and took the boiling pasta off the stove.

“We close this deal and you will be rewarded extremely thoroughly.” A beat. “I know you love Oslo.”