Fuck sanitary, Freckles. I want to get you dirty. Really, really dirty. I want to stuff you so full of my cum that you feel it dripping out of you all day while you’re in your office trying to cure cancer and shit.
Atticus was almost positive he was bright red. He moved closer to the table to hide his obvious erection.Don’t you have cars to fix?
I’m on lunch. Besides,I’m an excellent multitasker.
Atticus snorted, earning another startled glance from the tech, whose eyes quickly darted back to their work.Yes, well, my job requires a steady hand and my complete attention.
Are you saying I’m distracting you, Freckles?
Atticus rolled his eyes but answered honestly.Yes. You definitely are. I could be handling toxic chemicals, juggling bottles of acid. How would you feel if I died?
Four crying emojis appeared followed by,Fine.I’ll keep my thoughts to myself but only if you promise to send me a dirty pic at lunchtime.
Atticus flushed bright red, once more sneaking glances at his techs, grateful they were uninterested in him or his work.
How dirty?Atticus countered.
I guess that depends on how badly you want me to leave you alone? If you want me to let you work all day, you’re going to have to send me something pretty scandalous.
Atticus sighed.You know I hate guessing. Tell me what you want me to do.
Those three dots bounced, and then another text appeared.Okay, Freckles. I want you to lock that office door, take a seat at that big old desk of yours, open your pants, and show me how hard I get you.
Fine. Ten minutes.
He had intended to take a quick pic and be done with it, but once he’d sat at his desk, his imagination sort of ran away with him. He opened his pants, taking his semi-hard cock in hand, Jericho’s words etched in his mind. He was thinking about bending him over, pushing his fingers inside him, fucking him… Atticus tried not to imagine the edge of the counter digging into his hips, the burn of Jericho’s fingers invading his body, the sparks of pleasure that would fire along his skin as Jericho’s cock slammed home.
Before he could change his mind, he clicked the button for video and began to record himself. He closed his eyes, keeping his camera trained on his hand as he let himself imagine how that scenario played out. It didn’t take him long to finish, spilling onto his hand, grateful his pants were out of the way. Not that he planned on returning to the lab after this. He had paperwork to attend to.
He cleaned up, staring at the file on his phone for ten more minutes before Jericho sent a gif of Judge Judy tapping her watch. He sighed, loaded the video and hit send. After that, there was only silence. Atticus tried not to let his imagination go crazy. There was really no such thing as too far with Jericho, not emotionally, not sexually, and certainly not morally. Still, he stared at his phone with a singular intensity until another text appeared.
This time, it was just two emojis. The drool emoji and the water droplets emoji. He frowned. What the fuck did the water droplets mean? He fired off a text to Noah, who sent back a dozen laugh cry emojis before informing him it simply meant wet in a sexual context. Atticus had flushed even though he was all alone in his office. He refused to ask for further context from either Noah or Jericho. Luckily, he didn’t have to.
Fifteen minutes later, he received a video in return. Jericho was in his bathroom, coveralls clinging to his thighs, his cock in hand. “Fuck, that was hot, Freckles. I had to come upstairs and take care of this. See what you fucking do to me?”
If Atticus could have gotten hard again, he would have. Watching Jericho fist his own cock while he kept a running commentary of all the things he wanted to do to Atticus made him contemplate taking a cold shower in his office bathroom.
“Fuck. When I get you all to myself tonight, I’m going to spread you open, slide my tongue into your tight hole while I jerk you off. Then I’m going to fuck you nice and slow until you’re begging to come, begging for me to fill you up.” When Jericho came, he was breathing hard, his voice gravel as he said, “Oh, God. Fuck. Fuck.”
Atticus jumped when Jericho turned the camera towards his face so he could see his blown pupils and sly grin. “See you tonight, Freckles. Have a good day at work.”
Oh, you too,Atticus thought snarkily.
Strangely enough, he did have a good day at work. He managed to get his paperwork done, finished the journal article he’d written for JAMA, and even managed to return a few emails before his phone buzzed. He blinked, rubbing his hands over his face before he realized the sun was already setting outside his window. He grabbed his phone from the desk, realizing quickly it wasn’t his regular phone but his burner phone.
He heaved a sigh. He had no interest in dealing with family shit tonight or any night, really. Ever since their realization that Aiden might have less than familial feelings for Thomas, he’d dreaded going home. Apparently, Thomas had gone from drinking his feelings to isolating, leaving Noah and Lucas to pick up any slack.
Despite all of that, he snatched the phone up, frowning when he realized it wasn’t his brothers but Jericho. He’d given him the number that morning for coordinating their…date with Brian/Bryan. But he hadn’t expected him to use it quite so quickly.
There were two texts. An address and another that just said:Meet me at the cabin. I’ve secured our friend.
Jericho clearly wasted no time. He was always so decisive. He saw what he wanted and he took it. Including Atticus. He was trying really hard to be mad about it, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to convince himself that he didn’t want Jericho’s undivided attention.
Atticus grabbed his keys and his wallet, grateful there was always a bag ready to go in his trunk, but grimacing about being back in that thick swampy muck. Fuck it, he was going to stop at one of the stash houses and grab a truck that wouldn’t be traced. He wasn’t bringing his baby back into the swamp. Even after three washings, the interior still smelled faintly of brackish water and rotting vegetation.
He tapped out his reply as soon as his engine turned over.
On my way.
