The Fox and The Hare

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Chapter 2

George was on his third day of training when he saw Mr. Hare again, crossing the ground office while talking to a mild-mannered man on the way to elevator. It felt like a month, because George’s days had been filled with things to do, forms to fill, work to learn and questions to answer. Izabelle had been relentless, asking how in the world he had gotten the money for the crib and the rent and the packs of beer in the house. George had told her it was a bonus from the new company, but it was obvious she didn’t buy it. She was absolutely sure he had been offered some illegal work, and was only willing to let it slide because they needed the cash badly. But George could tell she was ready to pack a bag and go back to her mom as soon as something iffy made it’s way back to her.

Honestly, George was more keen to let her think he was a criminal then to let her know the truth. He was still trying to understand what the fucking hell had happened, if he had been coerced into prostitution or not, and why was it that he had liked it so much.

He wasn’t gay or anything!

It was just that... his new boss knew how to push his buttons just right. George found himself wondering if it would ever happen again. If he would say no or...

- Davis! - Clarisse, his supervisor, snapped her fingers by his ear. - Pay attention, if one of these forms get some wrong info it takes, like, a month to get the paperwork to fix it.

- Sorry. - George muttered, turning his attention back to the computer. It was boring. Gosh, this was so boring! He would give anything to be outside doing some flips on his skate or watching a game with the bros.

- You won’t see him much, anymore. - she said, and George look back at her with a quizzed expression. - Mr. Hare, I mean. He interviews everybody but then you don’t see him again until the Christmas party when he drinks and gets chummy with everyone. I noticed you looking.

George felt his face heat. He looks over at Clarisse, with her cheap but well-fitting suit and her brown hair on a ponytail. She was pretty, in her late thirties, but intimidating. Everybody seemed intimidating here. George had no idea if the interview process of anyone else had been like his.

- Why they call him Mr. Hare? - he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Clarisse let a small laugh escape her lips.

- It’s like a joke for them. Like, Mr. Hare and Mr. Fox. Because the other one is called Fox Miller... you’ll probably see him a lot more then Mr. Hare.

- Is he... I mean, is he like Mr. Hare? - George was still nowhere near being able to tell if any of what had happen to him had happen to anyone else. His attempts at fishing for the truth had all been met with blank stares and normal answers.

- Oh no! Not at all. - Clarisse waves a hand. - Now go back to the forms. You need to finish this before lunch.

George tried his best to do the boring work as fast as possible, but he still didn’t understood half of it. When he finally send the archives back to Clarisse, it was already past one, so George got up intending to cross the street and eat a burger on the joint on the next block over.

The same mild-mannered man he had seen earlier with Mr. Hare stop him in the middle of his tracks.

- You are George Davis, right? Our new intern? - he asked. George gave him a look over.

He looked to be about his early forties, had a puff of blond hair on top of his head, some basic blue shirt and faint freckles. He looked like an overworked primary school teacher.

- Yeah...

- Nice to finally meet you. I’m Fox Miller.

- Oh. Oh! Nice to meet you Mr. Miller. - Clarisse wasn’t kidding when she said they were nothing alike.

- Call me Fox. Can you come to my office for a minute?

George nodded and follow Mr. Fox back to the elevator, which they rode in silence back to the seventh floor. George tried to convince himself that everything was ok, he was fine, not at all about to get fired of anything like that. Mr. Fox spend the entire ride typing stuff on his phone, then directed George to an office on the opposite side from the one he knew belonged to Mr. Hare. It was only when George was sitting on the chair in front of a table, looking anxious, that Mr. Fox look at him properly.

- So, you are our new collaborator, Mr. Davis.

- Hum, yeah.

- Liking it so far?

“It’s so fucking boring!”

- Yeah, a lot. Still learning but, like, it’s all good.

Mr. Fox nodded slowly, looking at him with sharp green eyes. George wondered one more time about how long he would keep this job.

- I see... - Mr. Fox pull a stack of papers in front of him, and George looks around. This office wasn’t white and clean like the other one. It was all wood and trinkets, a bunch of papers everywhere, and a lot cozier.

They had their names backwards, those two.

- I’m going to be honest, Mr. Davis, I was curious about you. Stephen told me he saw raw potential in you, that you have drive. Which is a funny thing to say about a person with your resume.

Shit.

- I, hum, I prove to Mr. Hare I’m super willing to learn everything. I’m very motivated. - Untrue, but he was about to be a father so he needed to start with the whole motivation thing asap anyway.

- You... prove to him? - Mr. Fox had a puzzled expression on his face. - How?

Oh no. George’s mind hit a big red button and got into panic mode, and George tried desperately to think of something to fix the stupid things that came out of his mouth when he talked.

- I-I’m...hum, I just! I mean... Mr. Hare just, hum, talked to me and I--

Mr. Fox’s eyes became slits and he became obviously suspicious. George shut up, trying for the love of god to tamper down the blush on his face.

- Oh Jesus, don’t tell me he did this again! - Mr. Fox angrily whispered, suddenly. - I’m going to kill him!

Again. There it goes, now George knew his answer. Still, he calmed down, swallowing around his hammering heart, and tried to see if he could save his ass.

- Sir? I think there’s a misunderstanding...

- No, there isn’t. He made you do something highly inappropriate to a work space. Not entirely sure what, but I’m confident that it was something outrageous and that you now have all the right to sue us. Before you do, though, let me just assure you. Mr. Davis, that this is a serious company and that we do not condone with any sort of harassment of our employees. I’m going to...

- I wasn’t.

- What?

George closed his hands into fists on top of his thighs. He should have learned long ago to stop talking, but there he was, pretty damn sure he was about to lose the only job he managed to get just four months away from having a fucking baby to feed, and his reactions were mostly instinctive.

- I wasn’t an employee. Not yet. And...and! I mean, it’s not like. I mean, I didn’t mind. It was just a thing. It got me this job and I swear, Mr. Fox, I know I’m not, like, really smart, but I am very determined. Yeah, ok, it’s no ones dream job to fill forms everyday but I’ll do it. I mean, I’ll do it for my baby, and I’ll learn to do it super well even. Please, don’t kick me out yet, give me a chance.

Mr. Fox was staring at him, a wary expression on his face.

- I don’t think you understand what is going on, Mr. Davis. - He said, and George knew he was probably right, but he had been kicked into survival mode now.

- No I get it. You’re going to say “Sorry my partner likes to see guys naked in his office, so very sorry, here’s some cash, please beat it.” But really Mr. Fox, what happened wasn’t even bad. I’ll do it again if you like. Like, if you want the same thing, I’ll do it.

- What?! No, I abs--

- I’m not dumb to think you two have the same exact taste or anything, but my buddy Doug said something the other day... - George pushed the chair back, stumbled to the middle of the office, begun to open his cheap polyester white shirt with cold sweaty fingers. - He said that if you go into business with someone, you have to have something in common. Something deep, like, not just your soccer team or your favorite hotdog topping, so maybe I’m not your type but maybe you still can find something you like?

The last three buttons George just popped, too far into the idea to notice the absolute glare of horror on his boss face. He seemed nice, Mr. Fox, so George wasn’t feeling as intimidated by whatever might happen this time. He just hoped to be able to get it up, because the other time Mr. Hare had been so damn slow building him up, and now George just wanted to get this over with, get back to his desk, fill some more mind boggling boring forms and go back to his girlfriend without having fucked up his life once again.

He didn’t hesitate to push his pants down past his tights, along with his underwear, and only then Mr. Fox seemed to unfreeze from his spot and practically tumbled over the desk.

- Oh jesus, stop-- stop undressing! - And then he was in front of George, closing his shirt with both hands. - I’m not going to fire you, boy, for Christ sake! Much less fuck you in my office in the middle of the day!

George heard the part about not being fucked before his brain processed the part about not being fired.

- He didn’t fuck me, sir. - They were so close, Mr. Fox still grabbing the front ends of his shirt and pulling them over one another, and George noticed he had striking emerald eyes. Summer-meadow type of thing, the sort of eyes Izzy was jealous about. And although his hair was receding a bit, he didn’t had that many lines on his face. Up close, he was kind of handsome. - But I’d let you.

George didn’t know where that came from. It was just that he was feeling panicked and out of sorts and mortified, and somehow Mr. Fox seemed to be trustworthy. So much more trustworthy then Mr. Hare.

The calming features of Fox Miller became bright red, and his eyes flicked down to George’s mouth for long enough that George noticed. He let out a shaky breath before speaking.

- Put your pants back on, please. - but he didn’t push himself out of George’s personal space.

George reached down, grabbed the sides of him pants, not breaking eye contact with his boss. They were so close, that George could feel the hot breath of air building up between them. He pull his pants back but, and pull the zipper... the noise shredding the air. Mr. Fox’s eyes darted down once again, much further south this time, and George realized he had shown his dick to both his bosses now. His face burned hotter.

- You’re not going to fire me? - he asked, in a murmur.

- No, I’m not. - Mr. Fox look back up at him. - Not for... whatever it is that Stephen made you do, and not even for this manic strip session. Honestly Mr. Davis...

His hands were shaking a bit when he finally let go of George’s shirt, but then he looked down and begun to button it. George was sure this wasn’t necessary, but he was too afraid to move or do any more stupid things.

- How old are you, George? - Mr. Fox asked, apparently concentrated in his task.

- Twenty two, sir.

- ...with a baby on the way?

- I was dumb, didn’t think I needed to wrap it.

Mr. Fox hands stop for a millisecond before continuing down.

- But you are going to take care of the baby.

- Of course! I’m no coward.

- Obviously not. - The last three buttons were gone, lost somewhere on the brown and red rug of the office. Still, Mr. Fox stared at the shirt, holding the ends like he was thinking about what to do with it. - Well, congratulations Mr. Davis... I see the “drive” Stephen talked about, now.

Mr. Fox looked up, right into George’s eyes.

“He wants to kiss me”. George realized. It was almost palpable. And the resistance, the sheer willpower it was taking for him to not do it, this was pretty damn obvious too.

- Mr. Fox...?

He surged forward, stop an inch away from George’s mouth, then turned abruptly walked back to his desk, resting both hands on the glass of the window behind it. George stood still, heart racing like a horse, feeling tingly all over. What in the name of fucking jesus had he just done?! Was he really this willing to keep a fucking boring office job? His head had been in scrambles since Monday and now George considered, for the first time in his life, that maybe he ought to stop smoking weed and maybe get an education or somethin’.

- Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s not everyday I hear an attractive young man saying that they would let me... well! It’s highly inappropriate, like I said, and you don’t have to worry about it ever happening again. - Mr. Fox was still looking out the window, both hands pressing the glass into fists, breathing deeply

- But I won’t be fired? - George had to be sure about this.

- No, you won’t. But I do need you to tell me what happened at your interview. - Mr. Fox visibly gather himself before turning back to George, motioning to the chair. - So I can make sure my partner is appropriately punished.

Doug was right, George thought. You have to have a lot in common with the people you do business with. Kinky rich people, for example, they always got along great... on their weird, threatening way.

So George sat down and told the whole thing.

-

Stephen Harrison entered his office after dinner, ready to clock another two or three hours of work before going back home like usual. He had been mostly preoccupied with the meeting with the shareholders all day and was currently full of wine and roasted duck, and he was honestly operating on automatic, right until the moment he saw the reading light on his desk was on.

He was sure he had turned off.

- You perverted, dirty, unconsidered son of a bitch. - Came a calm voice from over the sofa, and Stephen calmly turned to look at his partner.

Fox was unassuming, and that was his super power. He was so mild looking, so soft around the edges, that not a single soul would think he was capable of being violent even in his thoughts. But Stephen knew this man since they were nine years old, and he knew better. Much better.

- ...You’ve met George Davis. - he said, carefully loosing his tie.

Fox’ eyes became slits.

- Not going to hide and play your little mind games?

Hare smiled.

- They hadn’t worked on you for years, pal.

Fox got up from the sofa, charged into the man in front of him, pure fury in his eyes.

- You paid him! Actual money! To watch him jerk off to you! My god, Stephen, don’t you have any sense of self preservation?! Decency?! The boy is twenty two years old!

- You are hyperventilating. - Hare stood motionless there, impeccable suit and silver temples and cold gray eyes. He knew he made an intimidating figure to most people... but right now he just wanted to be as compliant as possible. Fox knew all his weak points, and although he was usually too nice to use them, it wasn’t bellow him in times like this.

- Of course I’m hyperventilating! What happens when he realizes he’s been coerced into sexual favors by his boss?! He can sue us, he can go to the press, he can post the whole thing on the internet on a viral tweet and the whole fucking company will plunge down so hard the investors can just shove the dirt on top of us to finish the job. Have you learned nothing from the entire Anabeth thing?!

- You never understood what happened with Anabeth, Fox. - Hare set his jaw, gave one step back and went to his desk to get the whiskey. - Not really.

He missed Anabeth. It was still sharp, this particular pain, even after all these years.

- I understood everything I needed to understand, thank you very much. - Fox snatched the bottle out of Hare’s hand, gulped hard enough to have whiskey dripping down his stubby chin, then slammed the bottle on the desk. - Same damn thing! She was terrified of you, and he is too! He striped in my office and offered...! He has a baby coming, did you know?! He’s so afraid to lose this shitty paycheck we pay him he was willing to bend over for me!

Oh, this was much more interesting, Hare thought. This explained why Fox was so incensed about the ordeal. Usually, he would have dealt with it in a much more practical way, for example making Hare donate half of his personal funds to some place protecting gorillas or something, make him apologize publicly, make him fix his own mess. But he was burning, and Hare was beginning to see it wasn’t all rage.

- Did he? Now that’s a fascinating thing to do.

- Don’t give me this crap. Don’t start explaining your abysmal behavior by saying he was asking for it with his body or any other preposterous thing your head comes up with to justify your damn libido.

They were standing close to his desk, so Hare sat on it, took his suit jacket and let it fall behind him. He was smiling his tiger smile.

- But he is a looker, isn’t he? Rough. Didn’t think I would be into hood boys, but George Davis is absolutely intriguing. And has a juicy dick on top of it.

Fox punch him in the guts. One single punch. Hare grunted, all air fleeting his lungs as the sharp pain spread on his stomach. But before he could breath again, he was already smiling.

- Oh, nice. Foreplay. - he wheezed, when there was enough air to do so.

- No. - Fox took a step back. - No foreplay. We don’t do that anymore. And we don’t talk about our employees big dicks! They are not part of the pool of people you can fuck with, you sadistic fucker.

- Oh come on Foxy boy! - Hare spread his legs open, hand still covering his stomach. - He messed with you too! I know you, buddy. You want to pound him into your desk just as much as I do. His confused little brain and his heavy load of daddy issues... I bet you saw it as clearly as I did. I’m not the only pervert in this board.

- He is going to be a father in four months, Hare. - Fox pushed him onto the desk, at the same time he put himself between the open legs. Hare was feeling the old familiar thrill of their little games, of how he baited and Fox bite into it, how awesome it was to make the saint become the punisher. - A father! Because he is straight.

- He’s not straight. And even if he was... he wants this. Deep down. He wants to be owned. Did Georgie dear told you about his girlfriend?! He’s desperate for someone to control him.

Hare waved his hips up, meeting them with Fox’s pelvis. They were both hard. Fox put a hand around his neck, push him on the desk one more time, made him knock his head on the wood with a thud.

- You are desperate for someone to control you. Because you’re a fucking loose cannon. - I’m a precision weapon, babe. - Hare pull his partner closer with his legs behind Fox’s. - Come on, you’re all pent up... - it was hard to talk when the hand around his windpipe was getting minimally tighter with every word. - It’s been so long since we played, and I was getting lonely. Aren’t you?

- Stay. - Fox slammed his pelvis on Hare’s ass. He grinded their dicks together through their pants. - Away. - He let go of Hare’s neck, pinned his hands on top of his head. -From. That. Boy.

Fox was so nice, until he wasn’t, and Stephen loved to be the one that was able to bring this on him. Loved that Fox really didn’t want to be dry humping him on his desk like this, so rough, but he just couldn’t deny himself sometimes.

- Make me, pal. - Hare wasn’t sure if it was his own bratty behavior, or the brutal way his balls and cock were being slammed against, but suddenly he needed to be fucked by something, or fuck something. - Get me busy with you.

- Sick bastard. - Fox bite into his neck, hard enough to draw blood, before beginning to undo Hare’s pants down.

- You love me. - Hare smile, wondering if he could goad Fox into strangle him again.

- You need me. - Fox replied, pushing his clothes down and shoving two fingers inside him dry, more to hurt then to prepare him.

Hare closed his eyes, letting the pain and the wave of relief because of it wash over him.

- You know I do... - he muttered.

The next twenty minutes were loud and painful, and Hare agreed to everything Fox wanted of him.

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