What Not to Wear – TUESDAY

“What day is it?” Doug grumbled as they strode swiftly across the lobby to the elevators.

“Tuesday,” Beckett muttered back. He was still trying to button the bottom of his shirt properly; Doug had been groping him in the car during the journey to work. Glancing over, it galled him to see that Doug’s own jacket was neatly fastened. “Early staff meeting, seven-thirty. You know how it is. But we’re almost inevitably going to be late, and I’m still on warning from that offensive e-mail you sent to the Sales Director.”

“That was unintentional. Just my bad luck.”

Beckett raised an eyebrow. “Apparently that’s not the word you typed. Close, but a critical letter misspelled. And inserted rather neatly, just before the director’s name.”

Doug shrugged and grinned, waving at the half-open doors to wait for them. The car was almost full already with other employees arriving early, but Beckett knew they couldn’t afford to wait for it to return. They had fourteen floors to travel and seven minutes to make it in time. He pursed his lips, and dropped a little way behind his lover, just for the gratuitous joy of watching Doug’s tight arse wriggle into the crowded car. It was a small measure of compensation, he reckoned. Then Doug’s hand reached out for his arm and pulled him in.

People crushed around them. There were sniffles of cold, sharp elbows, silent glares. No one was fit for any social conversation so early. Beckett was almost nose to nose with Doug. Doug made no attempt to give him more room. Instead, he nuzzled up against him, and Beckett could feel Doug’s hand at his crotch. It started to stroke, lightly but deliberately, and Beckett gave a soft breath of protest. There was a gentle aroma of male sweat in his nostrils, which may have been the other passengers or may have been him. Beckett had showered when he got up, same as usual, but then Doug had sneaked into the shower with him and run a hand teasingly under his cock and balls, announcing he was looking for the lube, oh look, there it was, all over Doug’s hand already…!

Beckett shivered gently with the memory of hot, fresh water running into his eyes and nose, and Doug’s balls slapping against his buttocks. He coughed, trying to refocus his attention on the present. They should have showered properly again before leaving home, but then they’d never have made work on time. Their smell this morning was almost sinful, mixed with the tang of come and the fruity smell of a new lube.

God. The refocusing wasn’t working.

Doug squeezed gently at Beckett’s crotch and sniffed, too loudly for it to be accidental. Maybe he read minds. Beckett glared, but Doug just lifted an eyebrow in mock innocence. Beckett tried to shift around on his square foot of space, but all he did was stand back on a woman’s toe. She yelped aloud.

The elevator rocketed up from the lobby, shaking the passengers against each other. “Disgraceful overcrowding,” someone grumbled at the front of the car. Phrases such as “infringement of civil liberties” and “invasion of personal space” were muttered elsewhere. A man near the front of the car insisted he was on his way to speak to Health and Safety about the building’s access provisions, though his voice was rather muffled against the faux fur collar of another woman’s coat. Beckett glared at Doug, who was nodding in sober agreement with all of the complaints, especially from the woman whose toe Beckett had squashed.

They stopped at the fourth floor and the doors slid open. Several people stumbled out, and the others sighed with relief. Moving around in an attempt to find more space, Beckett saw Doug loosen the button of his jacket so that it fell open casually. Or maybe not so casually. Just before Beckett was nudged back up against the side of the car, he caught sight of his lover and colleague’s T-shirt. His gut gave a familiar churn and his mouth dried. Doug smirked and brushed a hand down under the jacket’s lapel. The writing was further exposed.

If you’re already this close, why don’t you just jerk me off?

“Good God.” Beckett muttered the words half under his breath, trying not to be heard by anyone else. A stress pain was nagging at his right temple, and he hadn’t even started work yet. “I thought we said…”

Doug bent his head closer. “You bought this one, too,” he whispered. “Remember?”

Beckett flushed and grimaced back. He felt an instinctive – and not entirely unpleasant -throb in his groin. Bloody man. He shook his head and mouthed a silent, “Selective amnesia.”

The elevator lurched to a stop at the sixth floor. Half of the remaining people tumbled out. An umbrella got caught around a man’s legs, and there were more irritable complaints. The door closed again, and the passengers rearranged their positions. Beckett stumbled a few steps and found his back against the far wall. Doug was still pressed up against him. Beckett scowled into Doug’s face, but that didn’t seem to deter Doug in the least. In fact, Beckett was rather afraid he recognised that gleam in Doug’s eyes, and it wasn’t eagerness for the work day ahead. He glared back. He’d once discovered some graffiti on the restroom wall that referred to his managerial “death glare.” But if there was one employee he’d never suspected of the willful damage, it had been Doug Jensen. The man had never been intimidated by anything Beckett did. Well, maybe a few things, but they were far from appropriate here and now. Beckett felt his groin throb again.

Doug coughed as if to regain Beckett’s attention. As Beckett stared, Doug caught his lower lip between his teeth and ran a hand back inside his jacket. On his T-shirt, the word jerk creased up, the fabric jerking to match. Beckett knew Doug was pinching and caressing his nipple under the shirt; he knew that glazed look of delight and mischief in Doug’s eyes.

“Do it,” Doug mouthed at Beckett, nodding down at the slogan on his chest. “You’re close enough.” He reached down for Beckett’s wrist and pulled it up against the front of his trousers.

Without any further encouragement, Beckett’s traitorous fingers closed around the swelling he found. Like he had no control over them. None at all.

Over Doug’s shoulder, Beckett could see the back of people’s heads as they waited for the next stop. The woman in the faux fur coat was wrestling with her handbag, trying to reach her comb; a man swung his briefcase backward, nearly digging into the back of Doug’s thigh. Near the front of the car, Beckett thought he recognized the poor haircut of one of the administrative assistants from the Human Resources department.

“Never,” he mouthed to Doug in return.

Doug grinned and rubbed up against him, the hard shape of his dick pressing into Beckett’s palm.

Beckett groaned to himself. He’d never acknowledged the existence of the word surrender until Doug joined his team – and started wearing down any inhibitions Beckett still clung to. Desire overtook common sense. He had no time to dwell on the fact that that was a perfect tagline for his relationship with Jensen. He shook off Doug’s grasp and his fingers flipped open the button of Doug’s trousers. The sliding zip sounded hideously loud, but no one turned around. Floors eight and nine came and went; so did three more occupants. Beckett slid his hand down into Doug’s boxers. He met his lover’s eyes and was gratified to see shock in them. Beckett could feel a pulse beat along Doug’s swelling cock, the flesh damp against Beckett’s skin.

Didn’t think I’d do it, eh?

When the rest of the travellers exited at the tenth floor, Beckett and Doug didn’t move. Beckett had barely registered the chime as the elevator ground to another halt. He was having trouble focusing his eyes, let alone his mind. He’d wrapped his palm tightly around Doug’s bare cock and he was pumping it as vigorously as the space allowed. Doug leaned in against him, eyes half shut and a dangerously feverish flush on his cheeks.

“This your floor?” called a man at the door, holding a finger on the button to keep it open.

Doug’s eyes rolled up and a strangled gasp escaped from the side of his mouth. Beckett felt Doug’s erection grow thicker; the pre-come slipped stickily against Beckett’s fingertips. He wanted to smirk but struggled to keep his expression composed. Doug was close. Very close. Beckett’s hand knew the signs.

“We’re fine,” he called over. He looked back at Doug. “Aren’t we, Jensen?”

“Plenty of room to spread out now, at least,” joked the guy at the door, a little uneasily. He took his finger off the button slowly. Maybe he wasn’t sure why the two remaining men were still crushed up against each other at the back. The door slid across, closing off his growing puzzlement. The lift started its final ascent to the fourteenth floor.

Beckett squeezed, vindictively.

“OhmyfuckingGod…” Doug groaned, his hips bucking against Beckett’s hand as he climaxed into its grasp, his cock pumping out wetly over his boxers. The hot, thick mess seeped in between Beckett’s fingers, the smell sweet, rich, and warm. “Yes, ohfuckinghell, yes!”

“Floor twelve…” Beckett murmured into his lover’s ear, his own heart thudding and his trousers painfully tight from his swollen cock. He leaned back against the wall, his legs surprisingly weak. He wished he’d worn boxers instead of briefs this morning, but Doug had left half the laundry out of the wash again, and his choices had been limited to whatever was clean.

Mere inches away from him, Doug’s eyes snapped open. He was panting heavily and his hands flattened against the wall on either side of Beckett’s shoulders. He grinned and mouthed, “Sonofabitch.”

Beckett smiled back fondly, knowing it was meant as a compliment. Doug looked stunned and happy. Fabulous sight. Doug lifted his hand to his mouth and started licking off the come. It was no accident that he made soft, slurping noises of pleasure as he did.

“Floor thirteen…” Beckett whispered. Doug’s eyes were still glazed, but he gave an irritable grunt and scrabbled to re-fasten the button and zip of his pants.

The lift chimed for the fourteenth floor, and the doors slid inexorably open. Beckett clung to the wall behind him, still needing the support, and Doug turned around slowly. He chuckled.

“What is it?” Beckett peered over his shoulder to look. He groaned softly.

Two security guards were waiting there.




Follow the story from the beginning:

“Lunch, did you say?” Doug raised his eyebrows. He grinned broadly and licked his lips. “Like, now?”
Beckett coughed as if he knew Doug wasn’t just referring to a cheese and pickle sandwich…