Horrible Boss

The Prompt: Mass Effect AU: Horrible Bosses

 

Has anyone else seen Horrible Bosses? Although the film wasnt that good, Anistons scenes were extremely titillating.

Anon would like to see a Mass Effect AU where Shepard (either gender) works in a dentist/bar/bank/restaurant/whatever and is constantly molested by his/her boss, who is any of the Female LIs. Make it sexy, make it hot, and it doesn't matter whether shepard gives in at the end and we get sexytimes, but it would be prefered.



Anon would like the boss to be Morinth, Aeytheta or Post-ME1 Liara, as it would suit their personalities really well, but anyone will do.

The Fill:

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“I pride myself on being professional, Shepard. Please tell me when I cross a line. ”

This she said, half-naked, leaning against her desk when he’d walked in and asked him to sit, after hitting some hidden button to lock him inside. 

She had been professional, that was the hell of it. Almost shy around him, downright blushing whenever they spoke and had lunch together. Smiling at him, and looking ready to die at every awkward conversation they might have. He’d thought it was cute, and had ignored any teasing sent their way with more grace than Liara had. The most she’d done was bring coffee for them both, and leaning in close to hear more about his stories from business school.

Then she’d gotten a promotion.

With that had come added responsibility, less time to joke around with Shepard, more long hours that in time he came to also face as he was switched with her previous assistant. “You’ll be working beneath me now. Is that alright, John?”  The dropped pens and comments about his suit. Tugging occasionally at his tie to lead him to the copier. Touching his face with those small blue fingers, why are you never clean shaven, no, it’s quite alright, does your girlfriend like it, oh, that’s right, you are still single aren’t you. That time that he was now sure she’d licked his ear when he was bent over plugging in her computer that kept coming…unplugged.  That time she’d spilled water on his shirt and insisted that he not walk around that way, that he was free to take his shirt off since it was just them, and really Shepard, you don’t want to catch a cold, do you?

The phone calls late at night over some small thing that he’d thought meant she was just taking her job very seriously. A short skirt that had him biting the inside of his cheeks. Teasing him about his gym habits. Once running her toe against the inside of his thigh when he was putting together a desk. Wanting to go out with drinks with him, giggling over the memory of his dancing at an office party, trying to compliment him, yes, he was screwed.

That fish tank she’d had arranged in the main office, after hearing that he liked them? The hug after that corporate merger that he’d helped broker. When there was that movie playing in the sitting area they’d watched together, only to have Liara fall asleep on his shoulder, and hadn’t her form been exaggeratedly still? The model ships that someone had given him for Secret Santa, a secret passion that he hadn’t thought anyone in the office knew about—wait, how had Liara known about that?

Liara had even done this before, if not so blatantly. When they were in the storage closet, looking for a physical file, and somehow the door had gotten locked behind them. But Miranda had so quickly found them before the asari could do much more than begin panicking. 

How could he have been so blind?

And now Shepard found himself looking at her legs. Then the exposed chest. Low sensible heels and white lace underwear and an unbuttoned blouse. He should have jumped up and asked her to let him out. Not counted the spray of freckles beneath her eyes and across the nose and making silent eye contact that might be taken as a sign of consent.

His life consisted of being in a locked room with a half-naked asari. One who was moving forward to threaten sitting on his lap.

Round blue eyes. When she touched his hair, he was sure she could sense through some power that he had thought about this before. How long had he thought pushing her over a desk, or pulling her down on one of those leather couches, or shoving her against a server in the basement. More than once he’d seriously dreamed about christening that unisex bathroom. Pushing up one of those white skirts she sometimes wore, wanting to see what she wore underneath, if anything.  Spreading her legs and tasting her, sliding into her while her nails dug into his shoulders, her mouth opening beneath his own. The things he’d done to her on the large conference table—only in his mind. Thus far.

One of his friends should really have said something besides making little jokes about him and Liara. A heads-up to prepare him for her brushing open her blouse would have been nice.

“Oh, god, Liara.” His boss. Who was now running a hand over his knee.                                              

She was still stroking his empty head, and either he leaned or she pulled him in closer.

Dear Formax…today, I really learned the meaning of working overtime…

 “Am I making you uncomfortable? Feel free to tell me to stop at any time.”