Work Text:
Title: Mr Mortensen’s Office
Author: 
legolas_is_mine
Beta: gattodoro Any remaining mistakes are from my last minute fiddling!!
Rating: NC17
Warnings: AU, Hints of D/s style relationship about to begin. Nudity, but nothing really happens in this. Also there is a really bad pun but I’m totally NOT sorry.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, just playing with them. Also, Santa totally exists.
Orlando couldn’t help but giggle as he put down his pen and pushed the sheet of paper to one side. It was slightly ridiculous for a grown man to be writing a letter to Father Christmas, but he had been sending the letters since he had learned to write. In the beginning, he had really believed that his Mum was sending the letters to the North Pole. In his teenage years, he had kept writing only to humour his Mum, from whom he had inherited his puppy dog eyes and pouting lower lip. Now though, it was just what you did on Christmas Eve – a silly, harmless little tradition that he usually kept to himself, and used in the same way most people use New Years’ Resolutions; a time to reflect on his hopes and wishes for the next year. Although, he did not usually make a list of things he would like to better about himself, more who he would like to meet and what he would like them to do to him. Orlando was 100% submissive in the bedroom, and had found that finding the right dominant was not at all easy; most of them seemed to want a living doll, rather than a human being.
Orlando looked at his letter again, and added a P.S. requesting Not that he would be sending this particular letter to the North Pole, or indeed to his mother. Its contents would land him straight on the naughty list. He would probably just throw it in the bin before he left for the day, or maybe it would be best to take it home – he didn’t want some cleaner nosing in on his private fantasies.
His hopes and wishes for the following year centred largely around one of his co-workers. His boss, in fact. Mr Mortensen was, in Orlando’s opinion, entirely TOO good looking – his short, dirty blond hair and blue eyes were just delicious, and they were always teamed with a sharp suit that made the most of his trim figure. It gave Orlando tummy butterflies to think of Mr Mortensen putting Orlando over his knee, or forcing him to wear a plug or a cock ring at work all day. It really messed with his concentration in meetings when he was trying to stop imagining all the things he would like Mr Mortensen to do with him. Or to him. Starting with ripping his trousers off and throwing him over the table, and ending, usually with Orlando tied up and getting to find just what was inside those designer trousers. Orlando had the feeling that Mr Mortensen had a wonderful stocking stuffer hidden in his trousers, and he very much wanted to find out for sure.
Orlando sighed. Mr Mortensen would never be interested in him. Orlando was very, very junior in the office. Little more than an errand boy really, he spent most of his working day delivering coffee and typing up documents. Which is what he should be doing right now, instead of writing letters to Santa like a five year old. Orlando had just started to type, squinting at his boss’s scribbled writing, when he was startled by a hand on his shoulder.
“Orlando, how are you getting on with those letters?” Oh crap, it was Mr Mortensen.
“Not quite done yet, Sir. Sorry,” Orlando stammered, cursing mentally at allowing himself to become distracted. He looked up at his boss, but Mr Mortensen did not seem angry. He was looking down at something on Orlando’s desk, and smiling, although he seemed more bemused than amused. Orlando looked down and – oh bloody hell; it was his dirty letter to Santa.
“Got a little distracted, did you?” Mr Mortensen asked, picking up the sheet of paper and raising his eyebrows as he read some of the juicy details which Orlando had written. “This is very interesting. I feel like we should discuss this in my office.”
Orlando bit his lip, and nodded, stupid, stupid, stupid to do this in the office, but he had known that by the time he got back home after work tonight and finished wrapping gifts and packing his car ready to drive to his parent’s house in the morning, he would never have time to complete his little Christmas ritual. He figured he was probably about to be fired.
“Should I turn off my computer?” He asked, nervously.
“Good lord, no.” Mr Mortensen replied. “Now, follow me.” Orlando followed his boss through the glass door into his office, and stood awkwardly whilst Mr Mortensen closed the blinds and locked the door, before moving to sit behind his desk.
“So,” he began. Orlando interrupted with a flood of apologies for inappropriate behaviour and promises to do better in future.
“Orlando, please sit down, and be quiet” Mr Mortensen commanded, exasperated by Orlando’s attempts to excuse his behaviour. Orlando’s mouth snapped shut, mid flow, and he dropped into the chair in front of his boss’s large, mahogany desk.
“Now, first thing is first – your job is safe, no matter the outcome of this conversation. I want you to know and remember that. With that said, you have expressed some… interesting concepts in your letter, and I would like to pursue them further. Would you be agreeable to that? I can’t help but feel like the fact that you chose to do this here, at the office, means that part of you wanted to be caught.”
Orlando stared blankly at Mr Mortensen, unable to process his words. It sounded like Mr Mortensen wanted to make Orlando’s dreams come true, but that couldn’t be right. Could it?
“What do you mean?” Orlando asked, wrinkling his brow.
“I mean, that these things that you want me to do to you, I would like to do to you. Very much.” Mr Mortensen smiled wickedly at Orlando. “In fact, right now I want you to take your clothes off and come over here so that I can have a closer look at you.” Mr Mortensen quirked an eyebrow in what was definitely a challenge. “I need to check if you’re on the good list or the naughty list.”
Orlando exclaimed in surprise, his hand covering his mouth, and the flush on his cheeks, for just a moment before he moved it to his tie, pulling it loose and off over his head. He began to unbutton his shirt, lip firmly held between his teeth, glancing up at Mr Mortensen every couple of seconds for confirmation that this was still what was wanted.
“Good boy” Mr Mortensen murmured, when Orlando’s shirt was lying on the desk in front of him. “Now your bottom half please, and then come over here. Keep your hands by your sides.”
Orlando stood so that he could do as he was bid, then moved to stand in front of his boss, fingers twitching as he fought the urge to cover himself. Mr Mortensen’s eyes were inspecting him closely, from the top of his curly brown hair to the tips of his toes. The visual inspection made Orlando blush all over, not from shame - he didn’t have a bad body in fact, he was in pretty good shape and put in plenty of gym time, but it was unnerving how long Mr Mortensen was spending just looking at him. His eyes seemed to linger especially on Orlando’s peaked nipples and Orlando would swear that his cock was getting harder just from Mr Mortensen’s gaze.
At a twirl of Mr Mortensen’s finger, Orlando turned, slowly and swore he could feel the intense gaze travelling down his back, pausing on the faded scar, although Mr Mortensen knew the story of how it had been acquired, in a bad fall some years before, and then coming to a stop on his pert behind.
“Turn back” It was clearly an order, and Orlando did not hesitate to obey. His eyes met Mr Mortensen’s briefly before his boss stood and closed the space between them, taking Orlando’s head in his hands and nipping his lip until Orlando opened his mouth to allow his boss’ tongue entrance. The kiss was electrifying, Orlando responded eagerly, wanting more, though he was already feeling light-headed, and he sighed as Viggo ended the kiss and his hands moved down Orlando’s body, coming to rest on his slim hips. Only an untimely knock on the door precluded any further activities.
“Mr Mortensen? Are you in there? Mr Bana is here to see you.” Damn. Mr Bana was an important client, and Orlando knew that Mr Mortensen would want to speak to him. His boss looked as disappointed as Orlando was.
“Just a moment” Mr Mortensen called, before continuing more quietly “You had better get dressed Orlando. But you should plan on working some overtime tonight through. We’ll pick up where we left off and see how we get on.”
“Yessir” Orlando nodded, hurrying to pull his clothes on, straightening his tie and making sure he had buttoned his shirt correctly before reaching for his boxer shorts.
“Wait” Mr Mortensen ordered. “I’ll take those, thank you. You can have them back later, if you’re a good boy. ” Orlando squeaked, shocked, but then handed over the boxers and pulled his trousers on, grimacing as he tucked himself in – he could already tell that the rest of his afternoon wouldn’t be comfortable. “You can report back here at five, and I’ll be taking you out to dinner after we get finished up… Unless you are having second thoughts?”
Orlando shook his head firmly in the negative. Definitely not.
“Good.” Mr Mortensen smiled, like a cat who had got the cream. “Don’t be late.”
Once Orlando was as neat and tidy as he could make himself in such a short time, he went over to the door. Mr Mortensen winked at him, before speaking loudly – for the benefit of anyone outside the office.
“I expect those corrections to be completed before you go home tonight Orlando, I don’t want this still hanging around after the Christmas break. The new year is going to be busy enough as it is.”
“But I’ll never get them done before five, Mr Mortensen. It’s already three thirty” Orlando protested as he opened the door and began to leave.
“Then you’ll have to stay until they are finished. If you’d done them properly the first time then we wouldn’t be having this conversation, so I suggest you spend more time on quality control and less time daydreaming at your desk. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be home before Christmas” This, apparently, was the end of the matter, as Mr Mortensen proceeded to ignore Orlando and greet his client, inviting him into his office and dispatching the receptionist for coffee.
Orlando exchanged glances with the receptionist who had brought the visitor, and then slunk back to his desk to try and muster enough concentration to finish his work before he was called back into Mr Mortensen’s office. It looked like he had been a very good boy this year, because Santa had granted his Christmas wish, and then some.
TBC…