Atticus didn’t sit at his desk, just perched on the corner, crossing his arms. “How did you find me?”
Jericho smirked. “I have my ways. So, you’re a doctor and a doctor, huh?”
“What is this? You figured out my father’s rich and you’re here to blackmail me?”
Jericho chuckled, floating closer, enjoying the way the other man bristled when he entered his personal space. “Blackmail you for what? I’m the one who killed Trevor. You just ate a granola bar. How would my turning you in benefit me?”
“So, why are you here?” he asked in a prissy tone that went straight to Jericho’s dick.
“Honestly,” Jericho said, stepping between Atticus’s splayed knees, “I have no idea. You’re kind of under my skin. I think it’s the freckles. I’m a sucker for freckles.”
“Sounds like you need a doctor,” Atticus said, trying for cold but seeming to dead end at unnerved.
Fuck, Jericho liked ruffling his feathers. He leaned forward to murmur in his ear. “Aren’t you a doctor?”
“Not that kind of doctor,” Atticus said.
Jericho inhaled the scent of his cologne, dick hard enough that he was sure he’d have a permanent indentation from his zipper. He ran his nose along Atticus’s cheek. “Then tell me to leave,” he challenged.
“Leave,” Atticus managed, voice a raw whisper.
Jericho brushed his lips across his. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
Atticus swallowed audibly. “You should leave,” he said weakly.
Jericho ran his tongue along the seam of Atticus’s lips teasingly. “Open up for me, Freckles. You know you want to.”
There was a brief hesitation, then his lips parted, letting Jericho take what he wanted. “That’s good. Really good. Give me your tongue.”
Atticus slipped his tongue into Jericho’s mouth. God, he was so good at following orders. Fuck. He took his time, finding he really liked the slick slide of his mouth on Atticus and the hesitant way his tongue caressed his own.
When he slid his fingers upwards to knot his hands in Atticus’s hair, he made this sound at the back of his throat, this sort of breathlesshnfthat made Jericho want to do very bad things to him. When he broke off to trail biting kisses along his jaw, Atticus tilted his head to give him more access. He bit and sucked at his earlobe.
“You’re killing me. All I can think about is your mouth on my cock. Can you do that for me? Hmm?”
Atticus heaved a shuddering breath. His indecision was palpable.
“Nobody ever has to know, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
When Atticus went rigid against him, Jericho sighed, leaning back enough to cup Atticus’s jaw, giving him a chaste kiss.
“Okay, Freckles. I get it. Message received.”
Jericho had no idea why he was pushing the issue. They had nothing in common, except they both sometimes murdered people. Not exactly something to build a life on. He shook his head at his own ridiculousness. His hand was on the door knob when he was spun around and slammed up against the door hard enough to rattle the window blinds.
Before he could process what was happening, Atticus was sinking to his knees, freeing Jericho’s cock and swallowing him down, taking him deep enough to gag. His head thudded against the door, and when Atticus’s lips retreated, Jericho’s hips followed of their own volition, not ready to give up the perfect heat and suction of those spit-slick lips.
He hissed as one of Atticus’s hands crawled beneath his shirt and the other slipped into his own pants. “Oh, fuck yes.”
Once they found a rhythm, there was only the sound of Jericho’s rapid breaths and the wet sounds of Atticus’s very enthusiastic blowjob. Whenever Jericho’s hands would clench in his hair, he’d moan like a whore, sending an electric hum along his shaft and through his balls. His movements seemed fast and slow in equal measure.
“Fuck, I’m close. I’m gonna come,” he warned, giving Atticus the chance to pull off.
He didn’t. He not only redoubled his efforts but he groaned, his body shaking as he found his orgasm. Christ. That was enough for Jericho to lose it, flooding Atticus’s mouth, eyes rolling with pleasure as he tried to milk every drop from him.
When he slipped free of Atticus’s lips, the man didn’t rise but dropped his head to Jericho’s hips, drawing in shaky breaths. It was such an oddly submissive gesture that he found himself petting his hands through his hair to soothe him. The touch seemed to jar something loose in the other man. He jerked to his feet, righting his clothing and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.
Jericho zipped up, waiting to see if Atticus would acknowledge he stood there, but he just stared at the wall of awards like he couldn’t bear to look at him. Once more, Jericho sighed. “Ball’s in your court, Freckles. If you want more, you’re going to have to find me this time.”
