Chapter Text
When the seventh emergency siren within an hour interrupts him mid sentence, Reece just groans and drops his head on the table with a thud.
They're in their London office, it's warm, it's humid and Reece wants someone to shoot him. Without lifting his head off the table he grumbles;
"I bloody hate London."
Steve doesn't have the energy to fight him on that, and more importantly, he bloody hates London too today. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands in the hope that that will clear the fog in his brain. It doesn't. The London smog has permeated his eyeballs, and his mind, and his entire being.
"Let's go up North then. Do some writing on a weekend away from all this."
Reece turns his head to look at him from where it’s still resting on the table, a calculating look in his eyes.
"Only if you deal with the logistics."
"Of course."
Steve picks Reece up in his car midmorning on Friday. He watches Reece put his stuff in the boot, before coming around to the passenger seat. He’s still holding a Sainsbury’s bag as he gets in.
"Did you bring snacks?"
"Naturally! Have some confidence in me!” He says, holding up the bright orange bag. “I even bought drinks."
"... Non alcoholic drinks?"
"Ah... No. Yes. Good point. I forgot about that."
"Great. So you're going to get very drunk while I drive us up to the cabin then?"
"Hm... Yeah probably." He grins at Steve.
"God, you're lucky you're cute."
"Steve. Steve. Steve. Steeeve."
Reece's words are slightly slurred as he twists in his seat, trying to get Steve's attention.
Steve just sighs.
"What do you want? I'm concentrating."
"Ugh, you've been saying that for 3 hours,” Reece complains, elongating the last word to emphasise the length of time.
"Yes. That's because I've been driving for over 3 hours, Reece. I'd rather not die today."
"You're boring."
Reece is 4 drinks in, and bored out of his mind. To his mildly intoxicated brain, the only way to overcome this boredom is by gently bullying the man next to him. And the easiest way to bully Steve is by getting him hot and bothered. It’s the easiest way for Reece anyway.
Without warning he slides his hand up Steve's inner thigh, stopping just short of his groin.
"Jesus fuck. Reece!"
Steve aggressively tries to correct the sharp pull he'd given the steering wheel.
"Give a man a warning."
"Nah, ‘snot as fun when you know it's going to happen. I'd rather keep it a surprise."
"I'd rather make it to the cabin in one piece."
"Then... Simply focus on the driving.” Reece says it like it’s the most logical thing in the world, and lets his hand ghost over Steve's crotch as he speaks.
"Easier said than done." Comes the reply through gritted teeth.
While Steve's eyes are decidedly on the road, Reece reaches over with both hands, so he can undo Steve's belt and trouser buttons. As much as Steve is pretending Reece doesn't exist, he lifts his hips a bit to make it easier for him to undo the button. Before he knows it Reece has freed his cock from the confines of his pants.
"What if I get pulled over, Reece?"
"What if... You get pulled off, Steve?"
Steve knows he's being mocked, and it boils his blood, in the way it always does, in a way he finds annoyingly arousing. He tries not to let Reece know, but it's of no use as his treacherous dick twitches of its own accord.
He's very aware of Reece's eyes boring into him from the side, but he refuses to answer.
Instead, he changes gears and speeds up. He's pretty sure he hasn't seen a speed limit sign in over half an hour, so he's decided the speed limit is whatever he wants it to be.
Reece doesn't seem perturbed in the slightest as he idly plays with the button on Steve's trousers.
"You do know you look silly, right? Going 70 miles an hour with your cock out."
No answer.
"You only need to say it and I'll help you out. I know you're just being stubborn. Just say the word and I'm yours."
No answer.
"Please, Steve. Let me help you out. I'll be on my best behaviour the rest of the weekend, I promise."
Steve takes his foot off the accelerator out of self preservation, before giving in.
"I'll keep you to that promise, you know. Now get on with it. Please."
Reece grins and dives in. Before Steve can think about it, his cock is enveloped in the warm heat of Reece's mouth. He thought he was prepared. He really isn't. He was prepared for slightly rough, dry hands. Not for the velvety feel of a tongue around his head, nor the soft lips wrapped around him. He has to fight to keep his eyes open.
"Fucking hell, Reece."
The hummed reply sends shocks through his body.
"Reece, you need to stop."
Reece does not stop. If anything, he's bobbing up and down with renewed vigour.
"You need to get off of me, Reece. I've got to… There's a... Fuck."
An especially well aimed flick of Reece's tongue makes Steve momentarily close his eyes, before snapping back to reality.
"Reece! You're on top of the gearbox. We need to slow down. You're going to make us crash."
"Fine," Reece says, with no sense of emergency, as he pushes himself up and back into his seat. When Steve glances over, he looks dishevelled and mildly annoyed.
"Well, I'm sorry I'm not letting you kill us," he says sarcastically.
"Your loss, buddy." Reece shrugs like he's completely unbothered by it, but from the corner of his eye, Steve sees him press the heel of his hand into his own crotch and thinks to himself that perhaps the loss is mutual.
"We're nearly there anyway, and we'll have a whole weekend to make up for it." Steve's going slowly enough now to take one of his hands off of the steering wheel and put his half-hard cock back in his pants. He gives himself a small squeeze to relieve some of the tension, and can tell he's being observed from the passenger seat.
"Have patience, young one," he says in his best wise Sensei voice.
"Fuck off." Comes the reply, though he can hear the smile that accompanies it.