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st_aurafinaTitle: All the Better to Eat You With
Fandom: Person of Interest
Rating: Explicit
Words: 587
Characters/Pairings: Root/Shaw
Warnings/Content: Under desk oral, workplace sex
Notes: Written for...? I have no idea anymore.
Summary: Shaw hates going undercover in an office but this job has some unexpected perks.
Also at the Archive
Shaw hated going undercover as a secretary. It wasn't that she couldn't fake friendly office patter and answer a phone with a smile in her voice, it was that these things made her want to kill people. That was the opposite of what she was supposed to be doing, or so Harold kept telling her.
Still, every morning, a cheery guy or girl from the sandwich place downstairs brought a basket of baked goods around the office. And, okay, maybe they always wore stupid costumes – the sandwich bar had a fairy tale theme – but at least they had food. Food was a good salve when you had to work in a place like this.
She was pretending to type up a report when she heard the jingle-jingle of tiny bells approach, so she stuck out her hand without looking up. "Spare me the patter and give me the muffin," she said.
"Well, hello to you too, you big grumpy wolf," Root said, and then, because she wasn't stupid, slapped a banana muffin into Shaw's outstretched palm.
Shaw bit into the muffin and stared at Root, dressed in a red velvet cape with a basket of goodies over her arm. Long blond ringlets cascaded down from under the hood.
"That's the Red Riding Hood cape with the Goldilocks wig and a Tinkerbell dress," Shaw said with her mouth full. "At least get your story straight."
Root propped her basket on Shaw's desk, then bent over to kiss Shaw's mouth, crumbs and all. "You know my story's far from straight, right?" She quickly glanced left and right, then slithered under Shaw's desk.
"What the fuck?" Shaw said, peering down between her legs to where Root was industriously wriggling Shaw's pencil skirt upwards.
"Harold's worried about you," Root said, easing Shaw's legs apart and wriggling in between them. "He told me to drop by and give you a pep talk."
"I really hope Harold didn't tell you to do this, Root." Shaw glanced around the office, but nobody seemed to have noticed anything amiss. Meanwhile, Root kissed her way up one thigh. Shaw closed her eyes just for a minute, then committed herself, slouching in her seat and spreading her legs wider, letting Root get her mouth right in.
Jesus, Root was good at this, she thought. Oh, fuck. She chanced a quick look down, and the beatific expression on what she could see of Root's face was enough to bring her close to the edge. The realisation that Root was working herself, too, one hand under the fairy costume, tipped Shaw right over. She clutched the edge of the desk as she came, her mouth clamped shut to stop herself from moaning. Only long training and dedication made it possible for her to keep her face blank.
When the white noise cleared from her head, Shaw realised her boss – her number – stood in front of her, asking about the report Shaw was supposed to have finished. "Uh-huh," she said, weakly. "I'll get that to you in a minute, Carol."
Under the desk, Root smoothed Shaw's skirt back into position, completely untroubled by the proximity of a witness.
"Oh!" said Carol, finally noticing the basket on Shaw's desk. "Is the sandwich girl here?" She picked her way through the muffins and pastries to find a Danish.
Shaw gave her forehead a discreet swipe; she was sweaty after all that exertion. "Yeah, she'll… she'll probably pop up any minute now," she said. Under the desk, Root kissed her knee and smiled.
Fandom: Person of Interest
Rating: Explicit
Words: 587
Characters/Pairings: Root/Shaw
Warnings/Content: Under desk oral, workplace sex
Notes: Written for...? I have no idea anymore.
Summary: Shaw hates going undercover in an office but this job has some unexpected perks.
Also at the Archive
Shaw hated going undercover as a secretary. It wasn't that she couldn't fake friendly office patter and answer a phone with a smile in her voice, it was that these things made her want to kill people. That was the opposite of what she was supposed to be doing, or so Harold kept telling her.
Still, every morning, a cheery guy or girl from the sandwich place downstairs brought a basket of baked goods around the office. And, okay, maybe they always wore stupid costumes – the sandwich bar had a fairy tale theme – but at least they had food. Food was a good salve when you had to work in a place like this.
She was pretending to type up a report when she heard the jingle-jingle of tiny bells approach, so she stuck out her hand without looking up. "Spare me the patter and give me the muffin," she said.
"Well, hello to you too, you big grumpy wolf," Root said, and then, because she wasn't stupid, slapped a banana muffin into Shaw's outstretched palm.
Shaw bit into the muffin and stared at Root, dressed in a red velvet cape with a basket of goodies over her arm. Long blond ringlets cascaded down from under the hood.
"That's the Red Riding Hood cape with the Goldilocks wig and a Tinkerbell dress," Shaw said with her mouth full. "At least get your story straight."
Root propped her basket on Shaw's desk, then bent over to kiss Shaw's mouth, crumbs and all. "You know my story's far from straight, right?" She quickly glanced left and right, then slithered under Shaw's desk.
"What the fuck?" Shaw said, peering down between her legs to where Root was industriously wriggling Shaw's pencil skirt upwards.
"Harold's worried about you," Root said, easing Shaw's legs apart and wriggling in between them. "He told me to drop by and give you a pep talk."
"I really hope Harold didn't tell you to do this, Root." Shaw glanced around the office, but nobody seemed to have noticed anything amiss. Meanwhile, Root kissed her way up one thigh. Shaw closed her eyes just for a minute, then committed herself, slouching in her seat and spreading her legs wider, letting Root get her mouth right in.
Jesus, Root was good at this, she thought. Oh, fuck. She chanced a quick look down, and the beatific expression on what she could see of Root's face was enough to bring her close to the edge. The realisation that Root was working herself, too, one hand under the fairy costume, tipped Shaw right over. She clutched the edge of the desk as she came, her mouth clamped shut to stop herself from moaning. Only long training and dedication made it possible for her to keep her face blank.
When the white noise cleared from her head, Shaw realised her boss – her number – stood in front of her, asking about the report Shaw was supposed to have finished. "Uh-huh," she said, weakly. "I'll get that to you in a minute, Carol."
Under the desk, Root smoothed Shaw's skirt back into position, completely untroubled by the proximity of a witness.
"Oh!" said Carol, finally noticing the basket on Shaw's desk. "Is the sandwich girl here?" She picked her way through the muffins and pastries to find a Danish.
Shaw gave her forehead a discreet swipe; she was sweaty after all that exertion. "Yeah, she'll… she'll probably pop up any minute now," she said. Under the desk, Root kissed her knee and smiled.