Mister Postman
Buffy Summers hated staying after work. Lately, it had become a really bad habit of hers and if something didn't give soon, she’d likely burst from the pure frustration of not getting everything done on time.
So far, her boss had yet to catch on to the late hours she’d been keeping, and for that, Buffy was extremely grateful. She really didn’t want to have to explain why she couldn’t get everything done during her regular office hours, especially considering there wasn’t a reasonable explanation for it.
Actually, that wasn’t quite true. There was an explanation, a reasonable one too, she just wasn’t sure her boss would buy it if she told it to him.
What would he say if he knew her every thought was filled with a sinful fantasy of sky blue eyes, sharp, angular cheekbones and soft, pouty lips that left a trail of warm moisture from one end of her body to the other? That the thought of hot, skilled hands traveling over her bare skin left her panting with the need for release and unable to focus on anything but the dream of total, sexual fulfillment?
Would he want details? Would he ask for a demonstration? Or would he fire her on the spot and accuse her of being some sick, twisted pervert that shouldn’t be allowed to work in a high-rise office building like his ever again?
****
Nope, he’d want the demonstration. I was staring at my blue eyed boy again, hoping my stupid perv of a boss wouldn’t catch me. Blue eyed boy actually swishes his hips as he pushes the mail cart and hums some obscure punk rock tune.
The phone buzzed; Perv Boss a.k.a. Ethan Rayne of Rayne Industries was calling me into his office, the same office that was featured in the NY Blue(s) Balling porno. Mr Rayne doesn’t care what happens in the offices. Parties, orgies, and drug highs were regular occurrences and it wasn’t strange to find sleeping bodies when entering the building for the day. Half the employees didn’t actually know what their jobs were.
“Hey, love, care to get me my special coffee and a Danish?”
I nodded and tried not to fix my skirt as I walked out because I knew the old perv would be looking at my ass. Stupid Perv Demon.
The break room was well stocked with alcohol. I liberally poured some brandy into his tall black cup of coffee and hurried back towards his office, colliding with the delicious Blue Eyed mail boy. His hands saved the coffee from total annihilation.
“Careful, pet.”
A smirk itched at the corner of his lips as I felt a familiar redness bloom on my cheeks. He handed back the coffee mugs.
I felt like an old hag ogling the barely-out-of-school mail boy.
“How old are you?” The question took him by surprise, his gorgeous face alight in nervousness. His easy confidence that was normally written all over his ass as he swished back and forth with the steel cart full of envelopes had dissipated.
He gulped and I watched his Adam’s apple swallow down the tongue I desperately wanted to feel all over my shaking body.
“Seventeen, ma’am.”
“What are you doing working? Why aren’t you in school?”
His stupid long fingers scratched at the invisible stain on his perfect dress shirt.
“Finished early, didn’ I? Got smarts.”
His hand slipped down from his chest to his tiny black belt holding up the black trousers on his stupid slim hips. My eyes stupidly followed the hand’s path and suddenly I was staring at his crotch. His pelvic bone. His hips. Oh for God’s sake, I was staring at his penis. Stupid little boy with the big…
“How’d you get away with that hair? Did you turn up for the interview in leather with eyeliner and safety pins everywhere?”
“Careful, ma’am.” The smirk was back. “That could be taken as slander.”
Leaning against the metal tray, his eyes crept up and down my body, sending tingles rushing through my system as the stare burnt my skin.
“I have to…I’ve got…the coffee’s going cold.”
Later, he passed my desk, handing over my mail with a note.
Need to talk, after hours. Mail room.
****
I stayed at my desk as those who were going home packed up their belongings and filed out of the doors rather than stay for the ‘we-won-the-latest-clients’ party. There was no way I was going to get into that elevator and head down to the mail room.
So as my perfect heels clicked on the marble foyer floor and then grew silent as I headed to the rear of the ground floor on the silver carpet of the back corridors, my brain was screaming at me seven words: Oh, sweet Jesus, I’m going to jail.
“What do you want to talk about?” I didn’t enter. I couldn’t walk through the door. It would only lead to badness. Lots and lots of kinky badness.
“Come in to my abode, love.” My eyes narrowed at that smirk. Badness.
“We’re talking. That’s it. Now talk.”
“I’ve seen you starin’ at me like a lonely puppy.”
“It’s a free country, I can stare wherever I want.”
“Yeah, but…ma’am…you’re staring at me.”
That damn redness was back on my cheeks. And I swear it was also on my other places. Gah, now he was curling that tongue behind his teeth. Oh shit, tilting his head. No. I was not going to step one foot through the door.
He walked away from the trolleys and stalked dangerously towards me.
“It’s Buffy, isn’t it? But I think you like me calling you ma’am.”
Damn it.
He picked me up. The little scrawny kid picked me up and dumped me on one of the trolleys full of empty padded envelopes.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Put me down. Who do you think you are? Let me go. How strong are you? And just what the hell is your name?”
“Name’s Spike. You’re gonna need to remember it when you start screaming in twenty minutes.”
I gaped. Like fish gaped. Totally showing my tonsils. So he used my fish face impersonation to stick that damn tongue in my mouth.
And I stupidly pushed him away.
“Woah! Wait a second. Are you really seventeen? Have you really finished school? Why are you working here?”
“Took the job to fill in time before I head off to Harvard.” His hand was snaking its way along my calf and up towards my thigh. I hadn’t gotten off the cart.
“Oh.” Another hand was inching its way down my collar bone and towards the tiny little pearls that held together my blouse.
“Yeah, oh. I said I got smarts…
I want you ma’am. Do you want me?”
Simultaneous attacks of fingers brushing against my upper and lower mounds made me forget. Forget anything, everything, just not the touch and the smell and the sight of him. He smelled like fresh paper and smokes. And felt like silk and felt. And looked so brightly, so intensely into my eyes with his beautiful baby blues that I almost cried when those pouty lips touched against mine.
Okay, so it was hot. Beyond hot. No seventeen year old on earth was meant to kiss like that. And god, if his tongue wasn’t mapping out the pacific ocean on the insides of my cheeks and the 17th Century trading routes along my tongue I would have noticed his hand ripping away my panties. I only realised I was pantiless when he dangled them cheekily in front of my face while breaking the kiss to breathe.
“You’ve been holding back on me, ma’am. You’re lil’ knickers are all wet. Surely it ain’t for the Big Top Perv.” He jerked his head upwards and I just wanted those stupid talky lips back on mine.
“No…for you. Only you. Please.” Oh God, I was panting. I don’t think I’d ever panted. I grabbed the delicious little hairs on the back of his neck and tried to pull his lips back to mine but the stubborn ass jerked out of my hold.
“No, pet, I’m still going to kiss you but ‘m gonna to kiss you elsewhere.”
Holy shit. The man…damn it…boy was going down on me. So I got rid of my bra as best as I could while still clothed and being soul sucked from my pussy.
His gorgeous bluer than anything real or blue eyes bored into mine as each lick, nip and freaking suck brought me just…to…the…
“Ahhhh. Shit. Spike. Spike. SPIKE!”
“Hmm, you taste delicious. Even if you smell like office chair and mothballs.”
I was way too far in the pleasure realm to feel indignant. The boy could say what ever the hell he wanted.
I felt his long lengthy long fingers (I said I was in pleasure realm…you expect good adjectives when I’m flying?) slowly peel off my blouse and get rid of the loosened bra.
“Oh God, pet. You’re fuckin’…I dunno…effulgent or sommat.”
“Mmmmm.” His lips lapped longingly along my every inch, just like I wished. Finally, I heard the pop of a button and the swish of a zipper as I stared into his damnable eyes. Those damnable eyes that suddenly widened.
“I’m on the pill.”
One nod and my orgasmatastic hole was slickly letting him in. And letting him in. And letting him in.
“Jesus Spike, how big are…oh.”
The smirk returned once more with pleasure.
“Oh yeah.” We breathed out in unison. And then he started to move.
“This to your liking, ma’am?”
Oh God if he said ma’am one more time I was going to come all over his fucking cock.
I must have blushed head to toe ‘cause he leaned over my sprawled-over-the-executives-mail body and whispered, “You are so…bloody…tight,” he flicked his tongue against my ear, “Ma’am.”
I went higher than before, pulsing and straining and shaking underneath the seventeen year old who was still pumping his cock into me. Why was I thinking after this post-daze?
He flipped me over before I could think of anything else and my hard nipples grazed the cold mail cart and he thrust so hard the wheel brakes clicked off and we went careening towards the sorting machine. And he didn’t stop thrusting. And I didn’t stop shaking. Fuck. It’d had never been like this. Of course it wasn’t like this. We’re on a freaking mail cart. His hand snaked beneath our combined bodies and found the nub that needed to be pressed one last time. His come flooded my puss and dripped down to the empty package envelopes on the bottom tray. He slumped against my back and his lips found my bare shoulder blades.
“William, you down here? Ready to go home?” My head shot up.
“William? Go home?” I panted. Why the hell was Ethan coming to the mail room?
“’S my name. ’E’s my uncle.”
Shit. Yep. Ethan’s going to walk through that door and see me violating his nephew. I’m going to be pedophile Buffy for the rest of my life. Shit. Shit. I’m still at work. Shit. Jobless Pedophile Buffy coming right up.
“Hey, love, stop thinking. Stop worrying.” His lips found my neck and his hands ran up along my sides as he slowly pulled out. We dressed quickly and he pressed his lips briefly against mine before walking out towards Ethan.
“Goodbye Buffy.” I heard him whisper from the door. He stood framed in the doorway, back to me like it was too hard to say it to my face.
“Goodbye William.” I whispered to an empty corridor.
I’d see him tomorrow. And I’d just hope for my career and my staying-out-of-jail future that I wouldn’t touch him again. At least until his eighteenth birthday.
Author's Chapter Notes:
This is a response to the taboo_spuffy community challenge on LiveJournal, the italicized portion of the fic was the mini challenge prompt. Any injuries sustained while replicating these characters (that aren't owned by me but by those crazy people at ME) are not to be blamed on henriettaholden. Partake in simulations at your own risk of your insurance policy and bodily harm.The workplace they work in is similar to the former workplace of Riot Entertainment. Go watch RIOT ON! The doco on that crazy company.
Thanks for Beth for the beta-tastic job :D
WARNING: UNDER AGE SEX
Nominated at the Cradle of Humanity awards. Thanks to whomever nommed it :D
Nominated at the Cradle of Humanity awards. Thanks to whomever nommed it :D