The Weekend Arrangement

The Way You Sound in Empty Rooms

Even simple rules are easily broken; the most simple- thou shalt not being the easiest to discard.

And discard it they did.

Every night they would lie awake missing the warmth and comfort of the other's body and every morning would rush out their doors trying to catch a few uninterrupted minutes together before the rest of the staff arrived. Even knowing the risks such things posed, seeing each other every day was like showing a starving man a feast and telling him to wait until the weekend to eat. So discarding what simple rules they had seemed like the only way to remain calm in the face of their frenzy, and carving out what time they could while at work had become a treacherous game they delighted in playing.

The Archives are too isolated, tucked away in the dim basement of an overly large building whose staff has dwindled over the years. The sheer lack of other people wandering through the poorly lit hallways; and the thick, old stone walls give them a sense of privacy even under the noses of their colleagues. They would take any number of the most paltry of excuses to sneak away or lock the office door.

Every single time they would remind each other- not here, this is too dangerous by far, we're begging to get caught, the weekend is just around the corner. Those admonishments would only last two or three days at most before an opportunity would arise and there would be another hasty meeting.

There was the time a misdated statement led to a locked office door. It did start as an actual chastisement, professional in nature and focused on the work at hand. Jon's reading glasses had slipped down his nose; and when he peered over them- every vague, half formed hot boss fantasy Martin had ever had flooded back. He hadn't even really meant to ask what he could do to smooth things over in a shivery, whispery voice. It's the voice that Jon is only used to hearing from him in the bedroom and it didn't take long before Martin was on his knees in front of Jon's chair. Jon was forced to alternate running his fingers through Martin's curls with biting his knuckles to keep quiet; all the while telling him exactly what he could do in the managerial tones that made Martin moan softly around his cock.

It was thrilling enough to make Martin winkingly suggest he ought to bring some misdated statements back to Jon's- in the office that earns him no more than a blushing laugh and a crumpled ball of paper tossed at him. That Friday though, Jon has a folder full of statements tucked inconspicuously under his arm and his reading glasses perched on top of his head as he leaves.

Once, Tim and Sasha were discussing a new restaurant that just opened some distance away and Jon told them to go ahead and take a longer lunch. Martin had hidden himself away in the stacks, but the other two were too excited for the rare boon to think about stopping and asking him to join anyway.

They spent that time on the cot behind Jon's office; Jon whispering to Martin how stunning he was, how much Jon likes the whimpery sounds he makes when he tries to stay so very quiet with Jon's hand wrapped around his cock. It was Jon telling Martin to look at him in his most commanding tones while he outlined every obscene thing he was going to do to Martin and let Martin do to him come the weekend that had Martin muffling his groans into Jon's neck.

Martin had unearthed an old, forgotten break room, abandoned sometime in or around the seventies. It was hidden away at the end of an unused corridor and the cobwebs festooning the unremembered furniture assured them even cleaning staff neglected to come to this place. They would yank each other into it with frightful regularity. It even had a dusty, hideous plaid couch, comfortable if ancient. Whenever they had any extra time, they would find themselves drawn to that room.

If they didn't have much it would be a few stolen minutes making out like teenagers, giggling and frantic; tight against the scratchy polyester that still somehow smelled of old cigarettes. Sometimes they had more space in their schedules and it had been a thrilling discovery to learn the arm was at the perfect height for Jon to brace himself on as Martin dug his fingers into his hips, and growled into his shoulder while they rushed towards climax.