Word Count: 1,139
Rating: NC-17/back to your regularly scheduled porn.
Notes: For ninja007, who really wanted to see what Evan was going to do after Distraction Technique. Here you are, dear!
Evan is doing his best to rush through his remaining paperwork as quickly as he can without missing anything important, mostly because John’s slouching in the chair like he had been against the wall, and he’s got his legs splayed open and his pants are still undone, and Evan’s achingly hard in his own pants so the image isn’t helping his concentration. John’s got his elbows on the armrests of the chair and angled so his hands are in his lap, and every time Evan glances over he’s doing something almost certainly designed to be distracting: running his thumbs along the insides of his thighs, playing with the pulled-down zipper on his pants, shifting his hips, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops to open his pants a little bit further.
“You look like a whore,” Evan informs him, aiming for aloof and failing miserably.
John just grins at him. “Do I now?” he asks archly, meeting Evan’s eyes. “Nah. If I were a whore, I’d be doing something like this.” And with that, he reaches down and takes his dick in his hand, running his fingers slowly up and down its length. He’s making tiny, breathy sounds in the back of his throat. Evan looks down at the paper he’s been reading, realizes he has no idea where he was or even whose report it is, and comes to a decision rather quickly.
“You win,” he informs John a little roughly, standing and yanking one of the drawers open, reaching to the back and releasing the false bottom, grabbing the contents out as quickly as he can.
“Always prepared,” John notes with a cheeky grin, still dancing his fingers up and down himself, like he’s talking about Evan having extra pencils or a spare powerbar shoved into his tac vest.
“It helps,” Evan shoots back as he pulls John out of his chair, “in situations like this.” His hands are busily shoving John’s pants down around his knees and repeating the process with his own. He doesn’t bother kicking them off all the way, just enough to give himself some room to move. John’s grinning at him as he fumbles the condom on, and Evan reaches up to grab his head, pulling him down to kiss the look away.
Evan momentarily forgets what he had been doing, because John’s mouth is hot and open and John’s sucking on Evan’s lip, rubbing their hips together, moaning into Evan’s mouth, and Evan’s never slept with anyone who’s as vocal as John is. It’s a little funny, when he thinks about it, because John isn’t a talkative person by nature, but he’s always moaning or gasping or talking when they’re sleeping together.
Evan takes John’s face in his hands and pulls away. He backs John up the three steps to his desk and sets his hands on John’s hips, rotating him around, and pushes on his shoulders until John leans down and braces himself on the desk. His legs are spread as far apart as his pants will let them go, and Evan takes a minute to appreciate the view, to feel the thrill that still hasn’t gotten old, that John – the military commander of an entire expedition, hot as hell, lusted after by most of the people in the City – bends over for him on a pretty regular basis. It’s not a power thing, not really, more of a feeling of disbelief and gratitude and affection and this really isn’t the time to be analyzing his thoughts, Evan berates himself mildly, and focuses instead on the task at hand.
He doesn’t bother to warm the lube up before pressing two fingers in. John takes it with a groan but not much else; they’d had sex last night and again this morning, so it’s not like he’s going to need much, or at least that’s what Evan’s thinking as he pumps his fingers in and out and twists and scissors and adds a third, and John’s making those noises again, low moans and little gasps that make Evan go even faster.
“Evan,” John moans when Evan’s fingers drag over his prostate. “Go, come on, Evan, do it.”
Good advice, Evan decides as he lines himself up and pushes in none too gently. John’s gasping and pushing back, leaning his upper body on the desk so he can reach a hand down to his own dick. Evan takes a second to mentally lock the door – thank God for mental controls, he thinks, and not for the first time – before he starts to move.
For once, John isn’t talking, though the sounds are still coming. There’s a lot of sound, actually – John’s low moans and higher whimpers, Evan’s own ragged breathing, skin hitting skin, the rustling of cloth, the slight rocking of the desk as Evan pulls out and pushes back in. Evan leans forward, changing the angle, and John escalates from moans into words.
“Evan, perfect, more, Evan.” Evan has to agree, panting as he thrusts again and again, feeling the heat coil in his groin. He reaches a hand around to wrap around John’s, giving more pressure, moving more quickly, and John leans up a bit from the desk to change the angle again, sinking down just that extra little bit and moaning as he comes. Evan isn’t far behind, shoving in a few more times before stilling with a groan.
Evan leans down on top of John, pressing them both into the desk. John shifts under him and Evan moves, pressing a kiss into John’s neck. “You’re not good for my work ethic.”
“Sure I am,” John disagrees lazily. “Um, about that work.” He drags one of the mission reports from where it’s set half-under his hip. Evan looks at it and rolls his eyes, reaching out to swirl his finger through the mess on the page.
“You know, coming all over the paper doesn’t count as you signing it,” he informs John, who snorts out a laugh. Evan stands and moves to help John clean himself up, dumping the stack of ruined reports into the trash bin.
“Can you imagine the look on Caldwell’s face if we tried, though?” John’s grinning again, but it’s a satisfied, slightly amused look now.
“John?” Evan replies as he opens a drawer, pulls out a spare set of clothing for each of them, and tosses John’s at him. “Do me a favor.”
John stops smirking at him for keeping two changes of clothing in his office and cocks his head to the side. “Yeah?”
“Don’t mention Caldwell right after we have sex. Or before sex. Or when either of us is thinking about sex at all.” Evan finishes the zip on his pants and shucks off his shirt., and John laughs as he tugs his pants off.
“I think I can handle that.”