"And that, I think, is it."
Michael looked up at his Aid and smiled, holding out the last of the files. Sebastian eyed it with something akin to distrust. "Are you sure?"
"Sebastian, it's midnight," Michael chuckled and dropped the file on his desk. He rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. "The time for work has passed." He picked up the whisky tumbler and swirled what little of its contents remained.
"Another drink then, Prime Minister?"
Michael sighed. He could see the hopeful look on his Aid's face, and could imagine the scowl on his wife's. "What the hell! One last drink before bed. And have one yourself, Sebastian."
Sebastian beamed and picked up the file. "Thank you, Prime Minister." He minced to the cabinet beside Michael's desk and bent down to store the file in the bottom drawer. Michael noticed how tight his trousers were. He pretended not to, told himself he didn't – but he did.
"You're seen me through two elections. Call me Michael."
Sebastian turned, still crouched on the floor, and smiled sweetly. "Michael." He used one finger to daintily brush his hair from his eyes and bit his lip. The Prime Minister couldn't help watching it turn from pink to white, and back to a deeper red. He had felt those lips against his, however unwelcome they had been. At the time.
Sebastian seemed to remember himself. He slapped a hand on Michael's knee and used it to push himself up. He averted his eyes like it didn't matter, like he didn't notice the fingers trail higher up his leg before regrettably withdrawing entirely.
The Aid busied himself with decanters and glasses, leaving Michael to shift in his chair and feel awkward. It had been two months since that very public kiss. It still embarrassed him – not the kiss itself, but that so many had seen it. And yet he had not mentioned it. Sebastian could be so excitable, it was generally better not to rock the boat. Besides, there was no need, no harm done. It was just a kiss.
A glass was placed in front of him, and Michael realised he had been rubbing his lips. They were tingling.
"Thank you," Michael said, picking up the glass and taking a hefty swig. He winced as the whisky burned. His eyes watered.
"What were you thinking of? You were miles away?"
As Prime Minister, there had been many occasions when Michael had had to make the choice between telling the truth and saying what people wanted to hear. Considering his current audience, he suspected the two were one and the same. But the truth still did not come easily.
"About election night, actually."
Sebastian's face was inscrutable. There had been so many incidents, so many inappropriate comments and scenes, and yet Michael had never considered sacking his Aid. Sebastian had never shown any sign of fear. It was an agreement between them, an aspect of their relationship. Sebastian would push the boundary, and Michael would push him back again. Apart from that night. Michael had not pushed him away. He had let him. Now there was a small part of him that was afraid of why.
"It was a good night," Sebastian prompted. There was the usual look of hope in his eyes that always made Michael smile. In his line of work criticism was the norm. Having a friend who was always complimentary and supportive was a great boost to his confidence.
A friend. That's what Sebastian was.
"Yes it was." The words slipped out before he could stop them.
"I'm glad you agree. I was worried…" Sebastian just smiled and quickly downed his small glass of whisky. He stood and walked around the desk, coming behind the Prime Minister. "You look so tense."
Michael's head was fuzzy, moving one step behind Sebastian. A distant part of his muffled mind told him this wasn't good.
Then cool hands were sliding over his forehead, fingers raking through his hair. He smiled and closed his eyes. He did not open them when Sebastian removed his glasses. He did not open them when a hand slid down his cheek, his neck, when a finger played over his collarbone and began to undo the buttons at the neck of his shirt.
Then soft warm lips touched his forehead tentatively, contrasting with gently scratching stubble. That made him frown. Sebastian would have to shave more closely.
Michael opened his eyes as his Aid lent over him and pressed their lips together. His protests were muffled by his colleague's probing tongue, which danced with his, tempting, inviting. So warm and soft, so insistent. Michael's protests were lost as his hand knocked the whisky tumbler over in its eagerness to hold the back of his Aid's head. His fingers slipped through short hair, free from the usual tangle that made kissing his wife awkward. There was no barrier here.
"What do you need, Prime Minister?" Sebastian whispered against his lips, his hot breath sharp with alcohol. The tall man was awkwardly perched in Michael's lap, hands caught up in his shirt.
"Need?" Michael muttered agitatedly. Couldn't Sebastian understand that what he needed was scant inches away? He lent forward to capture those hot, bruised lips again, and could feel it when Sebastian smiled.
If asked, Michael would never have complained about his relationship with his wife. It was as good a marriage as any, but after twenty years nothing was ever new anymore. Kissing for pleasure, anything beyond a peck for the cameras or a quick snog before sex, had stopped years ago. The long, slow exploration of another's mouth was a pleasure he had almost forgotten. Having finally given in to Sebastian's advances – not delusions, not camp silliness, but purposeful, sexual advances – he thought it best to make the most of it.
Sebastian began to shift away. Michael pulled at the nape of his neck, as though afraid that this (whatever this might be) would end, and normality would resume. But Sebastian only settled himself between Michael's legs, kneeling up to continue kissing along Michael's jaw and nuzzling at his neck. The Prime Minister traced circles with his fingers at the nape of Sebastian's neck. His hairline dissipated into a thin line of hair that led down beneath Sebastian's collar, scattering into a hundred soft, silky hairs.
Michael felt hands slide up his thighs, until they stroked over his erection, making him jump and groan. "So long," Sebastian whispered against his neck. His voice was a low growl, far more pleasing than the falsetto he had assumed since Michael had ever known him. His addled brain would even go so far as to call it attractive, even as his cock twitched in agreement.
The Aid had grown bold, and massaged Michael's hard dick through his trousers. He did not pull away from the older man's neck, but had stopped kissing and nuzzling. He simply rested his head on the Prime Minister's shoulder and panted against his neck, eyes closed in the imagined pleasure of what he would love to do with the cock that finally swelled in his hand.
"Please," Michael groaned. He twisted his head to the side, searching for the hot, wet mouth that had begun this madness. His hips bucked as teeth clashed and tongues fought hungrily for supremacy. He barely registered when Sebastian pulled down the zip of his trousers, moaned as his hot fingers wrapped around his cock and pulled it out.
"Michael, let me-"
Michael's eyes shot open for the first time, as he was certain Sebastian would say "Let me go". He saw his own fearful face reflected in Sebastian's eyes, before re-focusing on the needy expression they held. Their desire was equal. Sebastian would not reject him.
"Let me do this for you."
Sebastian slid down between the Prime Minister's legs and placed a soft kiss on the head of his cock. Michael watched him with lidded eyes, as he pulled back the foreskin and swirled his tongue around the head. Sebastian looked up at him, made sure that he was watching, that Michael knew who was making him feel this way, before sliding Michael's cock into his mouth and sucking on it hard.
The Prime Minister couldn't watch, only slide down in his chair and stare at the ceiling as his Personal Aid worked his cock. His eyes glazed and he considered how long Sebastian had been in his service, at his service, servicing his needs, servicing his cock and sucking it and licking and teeth and wet and hot…
"Gyah!" Michael gripped Sebastian's shoulders as he came hard down the young man's throat. Sebastian greedily drank down his employer's cumm, licking his lips to savour every last drop.
The smile on his face became quickly false, though. He pulled away from Michael's lap, stood up and looked at him carefully. The Prime Minister was slouched low in his chair, eyes closed and, for the moment, smiling. Sebastian wondered, for the first time in his life, if he had gone too far.
Pale blue eyes opened, and slid lazily up to his face. Sebastian noted, with no little pride, that they paused briefly at his crotch, before continuing up his body.
"Sebastian." Michael's voice was gravely and groggy. He cleared his throat in an attempt to clear the sex from it, and pulled himself more upright in his chair. "You have always proved an invaluable member of my cabinet. I don't think I've ever thanked you for that."
Sebastian smiled. "Thank you, Michael."
"I haven't finished."
The Prime Minister stood. He could not quite look Sebastian in the eye.
"No one can know about … tonight. You have never been a discreet man, but I need you to pretend this didn't happen. Can you do that?"
Sebastian looked at the hideous carpet that plagued number ten.
Michael reached up and wiped the tear-track from Sebastian's cheek. His thumb slid down to brush his lower lip. His hand stayed there.
"I don't know what to do for you."
"You mean with me."
The Prime Minister tilted Sebastian's head up.
"I mean for you."
Michael kissed his Aid. He took a step so their bodies were flush, and his hands fell to Sebastian's belt.
The Prime Minister was telling the truth: he didn't know what to do. But he knew Sebastian would teach him.