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Mr. Willet comes with them to the offices afterwards, spilling over in relief at his own aquittal. He collapses into the visitor's chair for five minutes, and Apollo discretely retreats towards the corner behind him as Mr. Gavin receives their client's praise with a polite smile.
"Gavin," says Mr. Willet as his elated worship reaches its finale, "you should join me for dinner."
Mr. Gavin lifts his eyes to meet Apollo's, and holds them for two seconds before he sighs with perfect regret. "I'm afraid I cannot take you up on that generous offer," he says softly, and the soles of Apollo's feet start tingling. "There's so much to take care of in the office these days, and I promised Mr. Justice that I would find the time to show him the case files for a client to whom he is assigned to follow."
Mr. Willet turns to look at Apollo, who nods in response to the barefaced lie Mr. Gavin just served their client.
Mr. Willet merely shrugs. "Well, your junior associate would naturally be invited along to the celebration, but I suppose the best attorney in town is not lacking in customers. Good!" he stands from his chair, and reaches out a hand for Mr. Gavin to shake, "Again, thank you for a job excellently performed. I would have been - oh, you know where I would have been if it wasn't for your efforts. I expect I'll find someone else to share with my celebration. Mr Justice," here, he winks, "make sure your boss doesn't overwork himself, now."
"Of course," says Apollo, and then the office is thick with silence as the door slams behind Mr. Willet and the fainting sounds of his steps against the carpeting outside.
"Justice," says Mr. Gavin with the same pleasant smile with which he dismissed their client, "lock the door."
Apollo's spine resonates with the firm snicking sound of the lock falling into place. Mr. Gavin has stood to let the blinds down; he doesn't close them, and the afternoon sun leaks into the office as he sits down in his chair and kicks back, making space between himself and his desk. He meets Apollo's eyes and pats a hand against his thigh, and Apollo feels his blood pooling downward at the sight.
He swallows, and lowers his eyes, and the he walks over and around the desk to gingerly sit in Mr. Gavin's lap. He looks down at his hands and says nothing, does nothing, as his boss' hands pull him down to lean the weight of his torso against his chest.
Apollo is painfully conscious about the mass-produced nature of his shirt and waistcoat as he rests his cheek against Mr. Gavin's shoulder and lets his entire being be embraced by the fine fabric of Mr. Gavin's jacket, the delicate scent of Mr. Gavin's cologne, and the ridiculous manicure of Mr. Gavin's finger's stroking the side of his face as the other arm pulls him closer into his embrace.
There is a hint of roughness to Mr. Gavin's chin against Apollo's forehead, and the fingers move down to trace his lips with a gentle touch in which nothing, really, suggests seduction. Apollo turns his head to bury further into the embrace, and shivers as the gentle warmth of Mr. Gavin's hands spreads against his back.
"Oh, Apollo."
His boss never uses his first name except when they're like this, and the times when he wants to suggest it to him; Apollo has long since been conditioned. He doesn't even consider supressing the needy sigh that is provoked by feeling the purr of his name from Mr. Gavin's adam's apple.
"Apollo," a hand trails down his thigh, then up again to rest against his buttock, the tips of the fingers creeping teasingly down towards the crack, "oh Apollo, do you like it when daddy is good to you?"
The tidy office is brimming with the golden warmth of the sun nearing the gentle end of a day's hard work, and Apollo lifts an arm to cling to his boss as he gives his answer in what isn't quite a whisper.
"Yes. Daddy, please touch me."
Mr. Gavin trails his fingers back and forth over Apollo's forehead, teases the hair that has been firmy gelled down, and Apollo basks in the feeling of his chest rising and falling beneath him. Mr. Gavin's hand has fallen to his crotch, where the back of his fingers are softly stroking as Apollo swells. Apollo watches, sighs a little as the hand shifts to let the thumb apply firmer pressure, locating the head beneath the fabric and caressing it in firm movements. He shudders as Mr. Gavin's index finger trails the entire length down, before the hand starts caressing his thigh instead.
"Apollo, look at me."
Apollo obeys.
"Take off my glasses."
Apollo has to sit up straighter to do it, and then lean forward to reach Mr. Gavin's desk. Things are noticably tighter than they were when he sat down not five minutes ago.
Mr. Gavin's smile is the same as always as he lifts the hand to turn Apollo's chin. It's an awkward angle to kiss at; Apollo is a bit too short and Mr. Gavin holds him too close for him to shift around. They press their mouths together at an odd angle, and then again, and chasteness of the kisses are rendered less so by Mr. Gavin licking Apollo's lips and and mouth every time he pulls away. He never pulls back longer than it takes to break the kiss and start a new one, and Apollo feels the wetness of his breath against his lips and the rough surfaces of his tongue, and finally can't stand it. He struggles against the tight grip of his boss - unthinkable, in any other situation - and Mr. Gavin gives in, and lets Apollo sit up straighter before he clamps down, once more. His tongue fills Apollo's mouth almost before Apollo can register what is happening.
Apollo isn't in love with Mr. Gavin and he's pretty certain Mr. Gavin's not in love with him either; it isn't professional admiration or even friendship that makes him lose his grip on conscious thought as his boss ravishes him. It's happened before and Apollo has no objections to let his sensory input hotwire his brain as Mr. Gavin kisses his breath away. He is disoriented when he is finally let up, takes five seconds to realise that they're in the office, that he is sitting in his boss' lap and his boss has his hands up under his shirt and his hair undone from Apollo's hands.
"Apollo," says Mr. Gavin sweetly as he shifts his knees and uses the hand on Apollo's back to firmly guide him into a standing position, "please take your clothes off for daddy."
Apollo obeys by pulling his tie loose and over his head, but halts as Mr. Gavin pulls the rest of his shirt out of his pants and rests his hands on Apollo's waist. This thumbs meet at his belly button, and Apollo can feel it in his spine when one of them digs into it. His cock pulses with every firm push inside, and he pants open-mothed at the feeling.
"Why did you stop, Apollo?"
"Because it feels so good when you touch me there, daddy," says Apollo, "it feels really, really good."
"Of course it does," says Mr. Gavin, and smiles, "but you will feel even better when you are naked."
Apollo nods and starts to unbutton his west. He shrugs it off, folds it, places it on the desk behind him, and repeats it with his shirt. Mr. Gavin strokes his sides as he folds it. When he has put it away on top of the west, Mr. Gavin takes his hands and holds them in his, stilling them.
Apollo merely lifts his foot, and Mr. Gavin pulls his shoelaces loose and slips off the shoe, and then the sock, caressing the heel and the toes before gently setting the foot down and telling Apollo to lift the other.
"Take off your pants, now," he says, and leans back in his chair to watch. Apollo can't get himself to feel embarassed as he lets his slacks drop and steps out of them, folding them gingerly as he stands there in boxers that do little to hide his erection. Mr. Gavin's seen it all before, in the office and in daylight, and Apollo has come to love this moment, the minute in time where he pulls down his underwear and reveals his arousal to the world. His boss watches with appreciation, and Apollo watches back, less demurely than he probably should, at how the only signs betraying Mr. Gavin's involvement is his hair and the place where his slacks, too, are straining.
There is a stretch of time, many breaths long, where Mr. Gavin only stares at Apollo's naked body in front of him, and Apollo basks in being naked in the office and shamelessly aroused in front of his boss. The sounds of traffic on the street below bleeds through the blinds along with the long rays of afternoon sunlight, and Mr. Gavin finally shifts, brushes his hair back over his sholder, and languidly pushes himself out of his chair.
He stops mere inches from Apollo's body, and uses his thumb to press Apollo's bottom lip down. "Are you ready for Daddy's love?" he asks, and bends down to steal a short kiss.
"Yes."
"Then you should get down on your knees."
He knocks the back of his head against the edge of the desk as he obeys, and his boss places a protective hand on the sore spot as he gets comfortable. Mr. Gavin's body is blocking the light from the window now, and the only thing Apollo can see is the groin of his pants.
"Open your mouth, Apollo."
Apollo wets his lips and lets his tongue poke out just the barest bit as he looks up to meet Mr. Gavin's impassive eyes. He cannot fathom how Mr. Gavin can look as cool as he does in court as he unfastens his belt and opens his fly, eases his boxers down below his buttocks and reveals an eager cock to the room. He pulls his balls out so that the elastic rests beneath them, and pulls back his foreskin to reveal the head fully.
"Can you see how much Daddy loves you, Apollo?" he says, and before Apollo gets the chance to sing his praises to that gloriously uncut cock, Mr. Gavin's left hand is holding his jaw apart as the right guides said cock into Apollo's mouth.
There are rules to this game of theirs, primarily: Apollo should only do what Mr. Gavin tells him to do. Letting his jaw relax and his lips close tight around Mr. Gavin is one of those many ignorable details that is never mentioned. Both of Mr. Gavin's hands are now holding the edge of his desk for support, and Apollo's - well-trained that he is to remain passive until told otherwise - are clutched at his sides.
His boss has closed his eyes and let his head drop back in bliss. He just stands there, breathing and resting his arousal in Apollo's mouth, and Apollo loves it. He wonders sometimes why he gets off of playing the helpless part in the bedroom when he is anything but outside of it, but he's figured that that's just the way sex works. With a best friend who has made it a hobby to look at the weirdest porn he finds, Apollo has mostly concluded that playing horny-father-and-underage-son with his boss is well within the normal range.
His boss, at any rate, just seems to get off of ordering people around and never being questioned, and Apollo is perfectly fine with that even if his jaw is starting to ache slightly as Mr. Gavin is moving his cock only minutely, and never pulls out. When he finally starts fucking, it is with languid, careful moves. Apollo sits and breathes and enjoys the steadiness of his boss' hips moving back and forth in front of him. Mr. Gavin has got a hand in his hair again to keep his head still. "Good boy," he says after a while, and that's all he says, that's the only words to disrupt the sounds of air going in and out of Apollo's nostrils and wetness being pushed back and forth by Mr. Gavin's cock.
In the end, even Kristoph Gavin cannot deny his body. He starts breathing audibly as he starts pushing rougher into Apollo's mouth. Apollo is just getting to the point where it isn't so enjoyable any longer when the crisp, clear sound of Mr. Gavin's telephone cuts everything short.
Mr. Gavin stops moving, and removes the hand that is in Apollo's hair as he shifts slightly, leans forward, and answers.
"Gavin and co. law offices, Kristoph Gavin speaking."
Apollo's mouth is still full with Mr. Gavin's cock as Mr. Gavin is listening intently to whoever is on the phone, answering only in affirmatives for what seems like an eternity. It is a woman speaking, but the speaker is too far away for Apollo to catch any details. He soon stops trying to listen in, and concentrates instead on keepins his mouth open and his teeth away from his boss' cock. His jaw is aching from the effort of keeping his mouth open for so long, and Apollo wonders if he could possibly suggest that daddy instructs him in doing oral that involves a bit more activity than this. He's never been with an uncut man, and longs to play with that cap of skin that enticingly hides the head every time Mr. Gavin takes it out of his pants.
"Yes," says Mr. Gavin to whoever is on the phone, "yes, of course. I'm sorry, could you hold the line for a moment?" he mutes the speaker by pressing it against a still-clothed part of his thigh, and strokes Apollo's hair as he carefully pulls out of his mouth.
"Darling, you did wonderful," he mutters. It takes Apollo a few seconds to notice that the hand in his hair has become demanding, but when he does, he willingly lets his head be pressed up against Mr. Gavin's thigh, and then be turned towards his groin. "Can you feel Daddy's stones?"
"Yes, I do," says Apollo with his lips against the balls in question.
"Will you use your mouth to make it feel good like you did Daddy's love?"
Apollo answers by pressing closers and giving it a broad, wet lick.
Mr. Gavin's left hand keeps his head in place as the right lifts to continue the telephone conversation. "Thank you, yes, you mentioned the eighteenth?"
Apollo can only marvel at how cool his boss can play it with the client on the other end of that conversation as Apollo is on his knees in front of him and sucking one of his testicles into his mouth.
The thing Apollo loves best is the illicit nature of their trysts; what turns him on the most is having sex in the very same office where Mr. Gavin receives their clients and colleagues and various legal staff involved with his cases. The Chief of the Police was visiting just this Tuesday, and Apollo had felt himself going hard at the knowledge that on Monday night he'd on his knees before the seat of his chair while his boss took him from behind. Apollo loves the memory of sucking Mr. Gavin in his chair, of being licked and bitten and fingered on the carpet in the middle of the room, of lying naked on Mr. Gavin's desk as Mr. Gavin's cool fingers explored everything between his legs their very first time. His job is often not very challenging, often repetitive and dull; Apollo spends his days remembering arousals and orgasms and waiting for the secret signals that sounds so innocuous to whoever else might be around to hear them.
Lock the door, Justice.
After the conversation has ended and Mr. Gavin has capped his expensive pen, Apollo finds himself pulled away and told to stand. He is dizzy with arousal, so ready to be touched that he whimpers in gratitude when Mr. Gavin pulls him in close and thrusts his tongue into his mouth. Apollo is being pressed up against the desk, and the feeling of the edge digging into his buttocks is negated by the feeling of Mr. Gavin's fine suit against his own naked skin, except where Mr. Gavin's stiff cock is nestled close to his.
It's on pure instinct that Apollo lifts a leg to change the angle, to get a different footing and to press himself closer, to pull his boss tighter to him with his thigh. He is faintly aware of a steady stream of whimpers being swallowed by Mr. Gavin's mouth and escaping in a muted for from his nose, he can feel the way Mr. Gavin's chest is rising and falling against him, notices that he is being steadily pushed against the heavy desk by Mr. Gavin's hips.
When they let up, Mr. Gavin's hair is mussed. He doesn't seem to notice, is seemingly struggling to stop his hips as a hand is cradling Apollo's hip.
"Apollo," he says, and pulls air several times before he continues, "Apollo, are you ready for Daddy to give you all of his love?"
"Please," is all Apollo can think to say, and before he has the chance to say anything more he is lifted to sit on the desk, and then pushed down so that he's staring at the ceiling, back flat against Mr. Gavin's desk, his legs dangling over the edge and his cock pointing upwards. He hears his boss open his desk drawer, hears him close it, and he clenches his fists around the edges of the desk as Mr. Gavin comes to stand in front of him again.
The knuckles of a delicate hand strukes the underside of his cock, and when Mr. Gavin speaks, it is softly. "Apollo, raise your leg."
Apollo obediently lifts his right leg up to bend at the knee, and shudders in pleasure as Mr. Gavin's hand strokes the planes of his thigh before his thumb starts massaging just behind Apollo's balls. Apollo stares at the empty ceiling as a thick thumb presses into him, bending as if it's trying to tear out of him from the inside, slipping in and out in quick, slippery motions as the other hand is holding his balls, squeezing them gently, rubbing the thin skin carefully.
"Please, Daddy," says Apollo, "please, may I have something deeper?"
"Of course, dear," says his boss, and the thumb is pulled out and two longer fingers are pushed in as a part of the same motion, "is that better?"
The fingers are pressing upwards as they pull out again, as they are thrusted back in, and Apollo starts breathing with his stomach. He sees nothing but the white ceiling, hears nothing but his own heavy breathing, the cars down below, the occasional squelching sound from the lube.
It is a moment of perfect bliss, of savouring the fingers slipping in and out of him, of his balls nestled tightly in a warm hand, of the delicious ache of being denied the very peak. When Apollo feels that he has had his fill, he tells Mr. Gavin so.
"Daddy-"
"Dear Apollo, do you want Daddy to fuck you?"
"Yes, oh yes, oh Daddy, please fuck me."
The hands pull away and he lets his thigh drop to rest the tips of his feet against the floor. There is a sound of fabric being dropped, and he guesses that Mr. Gavin has taken off his jacket at last. Foil is torn, and dropped into the waste basket next to the desk, and then Mr. Gavin is lifting both his knees.
"Be a dear, and put your legs on Daddy's shoulders so that I can reach better."
Apollo obediently lifts his legs, closed his eyes, and screams when Mr. Gavin thrusts into him in a firm, controlled stroke.
His legs are bent down towards his chest as Mr. Gavin leans forward, releases his hips, caresses his waist and his arms, whispers in a voice low and rough. "Can you feel how Daddy loves you, Apollo?"
Apollo is panting and trying to catch himself and bring himself down again. He nods. Then he says it out loud. "I feel you all the way inside. Daddy, you're so big, you fill up everything."
Mr. Gavin rocks his hips gently, so gently that he is merely pressing all the way in and slipping the tinies notch out in dizzying waves, and his voice is gentle as he speaks.
"Apollo, hold on tight."
Apollo obeys and closes his eyes as his hands tighten around the rounded edge of the desk.
"Oh, Apollo, you're so good to Daddy," Mr. Gavin whispers, and then there is nothing gentle about the way he fucks Apollo.
Apollo knows that he is crying out for every time Mr. Gavin thrusts so deep inside of him that it's just a bit uncomfortable - but Apollo likes the discomfort, he loves the way Mr. Gavin doesn't care to ask if he's going too fast or too deep. There'll be no-one waiting outside, no-one present to listen at the door and hear Apollo releasing his pleasure in a series of 'daddy, daddy, daddy' every time his boss goes in to the hilt.
He only opens his eyes as Mr. Gavin pauses to catch his breath. His jacket and the tie is gone, his hair is hanging around his face in tendrils of platina, and his arms are resting at Apollo's sides. He stares at Apollo with an unreadable distance, before he lifts his left hand down to take a hold of Apollo's right.
"It wouldn't do to dirty my shirt," he says, and guides Apollo's hand until it is tight around the head of his cock. He then slips his own hand down to fondle his balls again while he repeats the miniscule motions of pressing in and letting go, again and again and Apollo can only lie back and close his eyes. He's not shouting any longer; instead, his pleasure leaks out in a shivering quality in his moans. Mr. Gavin is using his off hand this time, and his control isn't as fine as it would normally be; he sometimes squeezes too hard, his the rhytm of his contractions is uneven and sometimes broken. That little uncertainty, that little fear that he might slip up and do it too hard or too tight, just makes it better.
Apollo jerks himself off to that, and cries out as he comes, dutifully catching everything between his palm and the skin of his abdomen.
Mr. Gavin promptly releases his balls, pulls out of him, and flips him over before he has even come down. Apollo barely has the time to brace himself against the desk before his boss shoves his legs apart, parts his cheeks and thrusts back inside.
Apollo tries to brace his feet against the floor, though the angle makes it difficult. Mr. Gavin has no such concerns, anyway; there are moans hidden in his panting. He fucks Apollo with firm and certain strokes, but it doesn't take long at all before it's fast and desperate, and Apollo is resting his head against his forearms as his body again and again absorbs the impart of Mr. Gavin's lust. There's little else for him to do now; he is spent both bodily and mentally, exhausted and slowly taking in the various aches now that arousal no longer occupies all of his brain. What little focus he can muster all goes into bracing himself so he won't collapse over the desk when Mr. Gavin's hips ram against him.
He counts nearly a hundred seconds before one of Mr. Gavin's thrusts is more desperate than those before, followed by another one and then another one, before he stiffens and pants audibly, completely still deep inside Apollo. Apollo feels his muscles instinctively relax, and he melts a little more against the wood beneath him as he feels the whispers of Mr. Gavin's hair against his naked back, and feels and hears how Mr. Gavin is supporting himself on his elbows as he pulls in breath after breath of air.
They rest like that until Apollo notices that Mr. Gavin's cock has gone so soft that it's starting to slip out of him at his own volition. It seems that Mr. Gavin, too, notices, because he straightens immediately and pulls out of Apollo with a satistyingly wet sound. Apollo can't muster the will to move, and he guesses that that's okay, right now. He lets himself sink back until he is on his knees before the desk, his arms crossed on top of it and the top of his head resting against them. Behind him, he can hear the sound of the full condom being dropped into the waste basket, and of Mr. Gavin fussing with his clothing and packing up for the day.
"Be in by nine thirty tomorrow, Justice."
"Will be, sir."
When the door snaps shut, Apollo remains in the same position for a few breaths more, before he sits back and slowly climbs to his feet. The office is starting to go dark; the sun has set completely and Mr. Gavin never turned the lights back on. The traffic below has taken on a different sound, and Apollo doesn't care that he's as naked as they day he was born and has sperm smeared on his stomach as he walks over to pull up the blinds; no-one can tell from below anyway. His backside hurts, every step he takes is uncomfortably slippery because of the lube smeared on his buttocks, and Apollo feels better than he can ever remember feeling. He hobbles back to the desk and and sits against it and then he lies down on it again. He dangles his toes against the carpeting and stares into the ceiling, and just right then, he is convinced that his life is absolutely brilliant.