The Office Boy

Billie Joe walked to the coffee machine, massaging his forehead with one hand. He should've turned down Michael's invitation to the office party; it's not like he actually wanted his secretary there. Of course he had to invite the new guy, the clueless office boy. And then end up...Billie sighed, trying to push out what little memory he had of last night out of his brain.

“Shit,” the word came out in a near-hiss as he bent down to pick up the styrofoam cup he'd dropped. He cursed again when he looked down at his shirt-- that stain would not come out easily. An amused vice-president-of-something passed by him, grinning. Perhaps it was meant to be friendly; Billie found it condescending.

Yeah, let's all pick on Pritchard's gay little secretary. Bastards.

He wasn't usually this harsh, even in his thoughts. The hangover was really getting to him. That, and the fact that he let his boss fuck him in the back of a fancy company car. Billie sighed to himself again as he opened Michael's door and set the coffee in front of him, along with a few urgent messages that had been taken while he was at a meeting that morning.

Michael looked up from his paperwork to smile at the younger man. “Thanks,” was all he offered. Nothing else. No mention of the night before, not even a sly smile.

Billie groaned softly as he closed the door behind him and sat back down at his desk. Sure, the man was attractive but that didn't mean he wanted a one night stand. He sure as hell didn't want to be a one night stand.

And he sure as hell wished he could remember more than a few hazy details of those hands on his hips, Michael's long fingers in his hair, and warm lips gliding across his neck. With another sigh, he tried to shove all that out of his mind again; it wouldn't do anybody any good if he got all hot and bothered in this early in the morning.

Morning faded into noon, taking the hangover and Billie's lousy mood with it. Shortly after lunch, he heard a buzz on his intercom line.

“Yes, Mr. Pritchard?” Just because he resented his boss for being almost painfully hot, getting drunk and got him to do things he wouldn't normally do with a CEO didn't mean Billie wasn't getting paid to be a good, efficient secretary.

He heard the static-crackle of a sigh and then a resigned voice. “Billie, could you come in here for a second?”

And here we go. He felt like he should have seen this coming a mile away. Michael would look at him very seriously, tell him he was sorry, that his behavior towards an employee – a secretary, at that – was unacceptable and just completely ignore the fact that Billie wanted it, wanted him.

And that is exactly why, as Michael spoke, gazing into Billie with apologetic blue eyes, Billie stared back and couldn't help that his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He couldn't help that his gaze swept over the tall man's frame or that Michael's speech on propriety and professionalism was lost on him after only a few sentences.

No, Billie Joe just couldn't help it; he couldn't help himself. God, he wanted this man so badly. So, really, it wasn't his fault at all when he cut his boss of mid-sentence to grab him by the collar and pressed their lips and bodies together.

You just couldn't blame him for moaning against Michael's tongue and losing himself to the heat of the other man's body.

“Trust me, Mikey,” he whispered into the kiss. “There's nothing to apologize for.”