Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

You will not be late today.

The alarm hasn’t gone off and your laughter bounces off the walls as he kisses his way down your stomach.

“Sex is not a valid excuse for being late.”

“Sure it is.  I’ll take a quick group vote once we get in and prove it.” 

His words are muffled as he speaks against your skin and you let out a soft moan as his hands take their rightful place against your hips.  You have plenty of time, so you spread your legs just a little farther apart.  You close your eyes and get lost in the moment. 

You will not be late today.

Dwight is keeping a calendar and Angela is finding new ways to contort her face at you and you really can’t afford to be late again this month. 

Its 7:45 and he’s still in his boxers, but you are fully dressed in your black skirt and new blue shirt.  You are standing at the sink, flossing your teeth, and not thinking about the fact that you can feel him watching you.  Not thinking about it at all.

You have goosebumps running the length of your arms but you aren’t thinking about those, either.  You are thinking about snickers from Kevin and half-hearted attempts from Michael to suppress a giggle as you start your computer with a blush on your face.

“You look good in red.” 

His voice floats in from your bedroom, still low and sleepy and sounds exactly the way it did thirty minutes ago when his fingers were inside you and his lips were on your ear.  He likes to talk dirty and he’ll sometimes do it at work when no one is around and oh fuck you don’t have time to think about this right now.  You instinctively grip the counter as a wave of heat rushes through you and your clothes suddenly feel too tight.

“Thanks, but I’m wearing blue.”

Your voice is strained and you curse yourself as you hear him clear his throat just inside the doorway.  Out of the corner of your eye you see him standing, arms above his head, gripping the door frame. 

You glance at your watch.  Its 7:52 and you are not going to be late today.  “Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?”

“I’ve got time.” 

He takes a few steps inside your tiny bathroom and now he’s directly behind you and meeting your eyes in the mirror.  His hair is still wet but the ends are starting to curl up and you will not put yourself in a position to feel those ends against your fingertips.

“Okay, well, the bathroom is all yours, so I’ll just get out of your way.”

He places a hand on your right hip and keeps you rooted to the floor.  One step closer and he’s pressing against you and you can smell his soap and feel him everywhere.

“You’re wearing red under your shirt, right?”

You simply nod a ‘yes’ as his hand travels slowly down your thigh and you voluntarily press against him.  He smiles as he pulls your hair back and leans forward, breath warm against your ear.

“Show me.”

You open your mouth to say something, but the words are lost on your lips when he follows with a whispered ‘please.’  He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you the entire time and your nipples harden as you undo the top button of your shirt.  By the time you push the last one through the hole and your shirt falls open, exposing your red lace bra, your eyes are dark and match his own.

When you speak, your tone is light.

“I’m wearing red under my skirt, too.”

You are late.