willyoufixitforme:

mistersmoran:

willyoufixitforme:

mistersmoran:

willyoufixitforme:

mistersmoran:

willyoufixitforme:

mistersmoran:

willyoufixitforme:

No, you’re not.  You’re a strong, intelligent man.  But you’re still addicted to me.  And I have no intention of making this easy.

You could even tear off my suit.

….

If I fuck you, you’re going to go gloat to my Jim, aren’t you.

The fact of the matter is, if you fucked me, I wouldn’t want to move for at least a few days.  If you fuck me right.

That didn’t sound like a no. And please, who do you think you’re talking to? It wouldn’t be about not wanting to move, you just wouldn’t be able to.

I won’t tell him.  There’s nothing to gain in that.

Really? It would certainly ruin your chances for a second go.

Are you certain you don’t care about that suit? Because I’d rather cut it off you.

It’s only a Ralph Lauren.  I could buy another.   I got this one on a whim.

Don’t be too accurate with that knife.  A little blood is fine.

Fantastic. But perhaps it’s time you put your phone away, wouldn’t you say, boss?

Oh, I will be perfectly accurate with this knife, but I sincerely hope that you are not expecting ‘a little’ to be the proper description. Because it won’t be.

-Jim takes a second to purse his lips, lifting the phone just enough to click a photo of the other man, sending it to his e-mail swiftly.  The lust in his eyes was something Jim wouldn’t mind seeing again.  With a little shrug, he tosses his phone to the side, chewing his gum for a few moments more before just swallowing it and holding his arms out.-

All I ask is you don’t ruin the tie.  It’s one of my favorites.

Fine.

-It doesn’t take a second; Moran’s strides are long and fast and he slams Jim against the nearest available surface, kisses viciously. He loosens the tie just enough to get Jim’s collar out of it and then tightens it- more then necessary- around Jim’s bare neck.-