Disclaimer: POTC belongs to Disney
A/N: What can I say? Really?
It has been a long day, which has capped off a long week, and I still have an hour until I'm able to leave work. My slave driving boss has practically filled my office with papers to be read, signed, and filed away. The light is beginning to shine at the end of the tunnel, but my vision is also beginning to blur, and I feel my focus starting to wane. The clock displays the time, but it isn't what I wanted to see.
A low groan breaks the silence of the room. I've just realized I had been working nonstop for two and a half hours, and I now feel even more exhausted. Feeling the need for a break, I decide to stand and stretch. My unusually large window is inviting me to gaze out of it to peer down at the street five floors below. I do, and I see that Mary Stanton and Neil Howard are leaving early, once again. Lately it's seemed as if it is becoming a regular occurrence for the accounting department to skive off to avoid the evening traffic.
I roll my eyes at them and make my way back to the desk to sit down. A yawn escapes me, and I decide to use my hands to prop my head on my desk. I am so tired, and I can't help but allow my eyelids to droop, and it only takes two minutes before I drift off.
An angry buzz from the speaker phone makes me jump. "Elizabeth, a client is here to see you."
"There's no one scheduled for today."
"I can't see anyone today. Send him to Hank," I say, hoping to pawn him off on my supervisor.
"He says he's here about the Roddenberg file. Says it's important."
I rub my eyes in frustration. The Roddenberg file. It wasn't supposed to be wrapped up until next Thursday, and I told my idiot of a boss that yesterday, but apparently the message wasn't relayed to his miscreants. "Tell him we'll have it by next Thursday."
There's a pause and then, "He says it can't wait." Another pause. "He says he has more information to add to the file."
That was the one thing that prevented me from refusing this man's request yet again. Reluctantly, I finally agree to grant him access, knowing that this little meeting will more than likely delay my departure by at least another forty minutes. I figure I should call Will to let him know I will be late, but the annoying visitor knocks on my door before I have a chance to find my mobile. As quickly as I can, I rearrange the mass chaos on my desk into manageable piles small enough so that I could see the man when he sat down in front of me. Then I call him in.
To say that I am shocked in discovering the identity of my visitor is nothing compared to my utter disbelief that the secretary – who makes it her business to be in everyone else's business – did not recognize my fiancée. Will quietly closes the door behind him, and I stand there like a love sick fool, staring at him standing before me in his nicest suit. Granted, he rarely wears such fashions, much less carries a briefcase as an accessory, but honestly, what is wrong with the receptionist? He doesn't look that different than he normally does.
"What? Can I not even get a simple 'Hello Will! I'm so glad you're here!'?"
"I'm sorry," I say, crossing over to hug him. I'm actually very surprised to see him. He hardly ever visits me here, and it all seems so romantic. It was clever of him to play off the Roddenberg file to fool me. I realize it's silly, but something about seeing him always makes me react like a fourteen year old girl. Because I'm so very tired, I walk back to my office chair to sit down. "I'm very happy that you're here. It will make having to stay and complete these stupid forms more bearable."
"Maybe this will help," he says.
I look up at him as he places his briefcase on the only clear area on my desk, opens it, and pulls out two glasses and my favorite bottle of wine with one hand. My jaw drops in awe of how fantastic – and bold – he has become, but the deal is sealed when he presents me with a handful of white primroses.
"Will! Where did you get these?" I grab them from his hand and lift the flowers to smell them.
"I found them in a florist's shop. I had planned to have them put into a vase on your table when you got home, but I decided to meet you here instead."
He starts pouring the wine into the glasses and hands me one of them. I split my attention between the wine and flowers and spend the rest of the time giving him googly eyes. Will could have asked me to do anything at that moment, and I would have agreed wholeheartedly.
"You have no idea how much I want to shag you right now."
His comment catches me off guard, and I very nearly spill the wine in my glass all over myself. If I didn't know any better I would have thought he had just read my mind. "What?"
He says nothing in response and only smiles innocently.
"Will, I'm already breaking company policy by drinking this wine in my office. Hank is right across the hall. There's no possible way–"
"I wasn't suggesting it, but now that you've made the assumption, it's not a bad idea."
I scoff. Normally I would be the one proposing a romp in the park, and he would be the one balking at the thought. Now that the tables have been turned, I realize how much of an influence I have had on this man. I drain the last bit of my wine in one go. When I set the glass on the desktop, I immediately notice Will is no longer sitting in front of me. Instead, he's standing to my left, swirling the small amount of wine remaining in his glass as he smiles down at me. I know there are gears turning in his head, and it piques my interest.
He finishes his glass and sets it beside mine. "You never responded."
"Responded to what?"
His hands grabs mine and pull me so that I am standing in front of him. Suddenly, I feel them on my waist, and then he's kissing me. For some reason I can't help but laugh, and I pull away to look at him. I will be off work in a little less than an hour, and I know that I can't allow myself to get sucked into his charm. "I've got to finish working on these papers before I leave, and there is no way on earth that I'm going to shag you in this office."
He is genuinely asking me why. I laugh. "Because this is were I work. As scatterbrained as the receptionist is, I'm almost positive she'd notice. Even if she didn't, there's no way I'd risk the chance of Hank walking in here and finding me sprawled out starkers on my desk."
"You're wearing a skirt. You don't have to be starkers."
I'm not given a chance to retort because his fingers slide under my top and travel along my lower back, slowly making their way higher and higher. Then I feel them working the clasp of my bra until it finally gives way. Instinctively, my lips find his, and there is nothing my brain can do to convince me to stop. However, a loud knocking and the irritating voice of my boss can and does.
"Elizabeth! You busy?"
Without thinking, I shove Will under my desk, drop the wine and glasses into the largest drawer, and chuck the briefcase into a cluttered corner all in the span of six seconds. It creates a lot of noise, and I silently pray I don't seem too conspicuous. "What do you need Hank?"
Without being invited, the man waltzes in. "Dawn tells me you've got a visitor for the Roddenberg file in here," he says, glancing around the room.
"He's gone to the loo. He's a bloke from their firm wanting to pitch in a few more papers is all," I said, sitting down in an attempt to hide the fact that my tits were not supported. This idea was a mistake. As soon as I sit down Will starts stroking my leg. I can almost see his idiotic grin.
"What a sod. Could it not have waited until next week? You've got more than enough to do all ready. Am I right?"
I struggle not to roll my eyes. It was his fault I was drowning in work as it was. "Too right you are Hank."
"So this fellow's got nothing I'd be interested in? Nothing to sign or any of that sort of thing?"
Will's hands start roaming farther up my legs, and I can feel my pulse speed up as it pounds through me. He's making it very hard for me to concentrate on the conversation, and I realize now exactly how much Will has learned from me. My toes are curling inside of my shoes, and I scold myself silently, but at the same time, I vow to make him pay for this later.
"Should I wait for him to get back and introduce myself?"
Will's fingers suddenly arrive at my knickers, and I jump, unconsciously slamming my fist down onto the desk. It scares Hank, and he looks at me curiously. "You alright, Elizabeth?"
"I'm – I'm fine, Hank. Just tired."
I can hear Will's muffled laughter, so I stomp on his free hand with my heel. When I hear his cry of pain, a secret satisfaction creeps through me, and I smile, congratulating myself for deciding to wear stilettos this morning. Hank continues to eye me wearily, so I ask, "Is there anything else you need?"
"No, I just wanted to see how things were. Have a good weekend."
"You too, Hank."
When the door closes, I kick my fiancée in the stomach.
"What the hell, Will?"
"What are you on about? You're the one beating the shit out of me!"
"It doesn't help that your fingers were wandering. I could get into some serious trouble if everyone realized what was happening in here."
Will stands up, taking off his jacket before throwing it on top of his abandoned briefcase. "I can fix that," he says and walks over to one of the chairs in front of my desk and shoves it under the door handle.
He grins at me as I run around the desk to pull it away. When I reach out for the chair, he wraps his arms around me and lifts me into the air. Adrenaline is coursing through my body, and I can't deny the eroticism of what is happening. The possibility of getting caught has overthrown my desire to be an upstanding employee. Realizing that he's successfully persuaded me, Will places me on my desk and wastes no time in removing my jumper. I'm not sure how, but he's able to take my bra with it, and now I'm sitting in front of him completely topless. The air in my office is cool, and suddenly I realize the window drapes are open.
"Close the curtains!"
I quickly cover myself as he hurries across the room. Despite being so high off the ground, I don't want to take any chances of someone in the building across the street getting a free show. As he's pulling them together, I carefully move the stacks of folders and papers onto the floor. There's no sense in undoing an entire day's worth of work by scattering files when we shag.
The room darkens considerably, and Will loosens his tie as he walks back to me. I ask him to keep it on because there's something innately sexy about neckties. I'm not sure what it is, but apparently neckties are a bit of a fetish for me.
Will's hands resume their interrupted paths across my back at the same time his mouth latches onto the front of my neck. My fingers only manage to unbutton the top three buttons of his shirt before I lose all of my fine motor skills. I pull it over his head roughly and discard it before clutching him tightly against me, eager to have him continue. I know there will be a large bruise, and it will be awkward to cover when I visit my father tomorrow, but right now I can't fathom stopping Will. His tie feels so smooth against my chest, and I try to wrap my legs around him, but my skirt restricts my ability to do so. He notices this and diverts his hands to my waist in order to pull it down my thighs. My shoes are kicked off and go flying across the room, landing on a rug with two dulled thuds. The skirt is finally pulled away from my body, and I go to work on his belt.
It's apparent that my motor skills haven't yet returned because I'm having a difficult time getting the buckle undone. Will doesn't notice because he grabs my hips and presses his own against me. We're kissing again, and I find myself falling backwards. Inwardly, I am thankful for having the sense to move my work out from under me because just seconds earlier, Will's hand knocked over my desk organizer, causing pens and business cards to tumble off the side of the desk.
Thankfully I've managed to solve the belt buckle issue, but now my hands are desperately trying to unfasten his trousers. He's slowly rocking against me, and that lovely tie is sliding over my stomach, and I wonder how he is able to make me so completely randy just by showing up to my office with a bottle of wine.
I feel the zipper give way, but before I can get his pants around his ankles, one of his fingers slips into my knickers, and I gasp. My mouth is right beside his ear, and I know that he can hear my embarrassingly uneven pants, but at the same time, I secretly know he loves it because his teeth are nipping that bruise on my neck, and I can almost swear that he's smiling.
I realize that my fingernails are digging into his shoulders, and I wonder how they got there because I really don't remember moving them. But it doesn't matter because his fingers are driving me mad, and I feel the familiar exhilaration building between my legs. I'm holding on for dear life, but then the intensity suddenly diminishes, and I notice that the kisses against my neck and his fingers have stopped. Before I can object, I feel my knickers being pushed to the side.
And then Will is inside me, and the intensity comes back with a vengeance. I was so oblivious to what was going on around me that I didn't know his trousers had fallen to the ground, but what is obvious to me is that my moans got the best of him. And this creates a giggle that bubbles out of me. If he hears my laugh, he doesn't acknowledge it. He is completely immersed in the moment.
His body is pressed against me, trapping the silk tie between us as he keeps his thrusts slow and deep. My thighs are being held by his hands, and he's using them to pull me hard against him. There is something pressing into my back, but I ignore it and pull his face to mine. We're snogging like there's no tomorrow, and the thrill of being in my office heightens the overpowering feeling inside me. My knickers are creating an odd sensation as Will keeps his rhythm, and I know there is no way that I'll be able to last much longer. My climax is slowly gaining momentum within me, and I have to break away from his kisses just to breathe. Those embarrassing gasps are back in full force, and I think I may be saying his name, but I'm not entirely sure. Whatever I'm doing, it's encouraging Will, and he's thrusting against me with a renewed energy. I'm only slightly aware of my nails clawing at his back before I come undone. I'm taken to another place and unaware of anything and everything. When it's over, I have no idea where I am. Will is resting against me and breathing heavily, and I come to the conclusion that he must have climaxed while I was lost in the clouds.
Eventually he stands up and helps me stand as well. We collect our clothes and get dressed slowly, as both of us are still trying to slow our heart rates. As I retrieve my shoes, Will says, "Shall I visit you next week, then?"
"I'm afraid that if this becomes a regular event, I might never leave work. I'm supposed to be leaving now, but I still have to sign and put away these files."
He takes my shoes from me and suggests I show him how to help. I do, and it only takes us twenty minutes. As we're collecting the wine, getting ready to leave, Will suggests we have another go before we do. I only consider it for a second before shaking my head, but as we climb into his car, we decide that weekly visits may not be such a bad idea after all.