Casper Gets His Wish by R. Cooper

Dmitri grabbed his hips and yanked him closer. Casper finally understood the purpose of that loose belt when Dmitri’s pants fell easily to the floor. A moment later and Dmitri was doing things with his fingers that put him on Casper’s Nice list for the next thousand years at least.
     
    Casper reached out blindly, sweeping just about everything off the desk but the piece of candy cane still wet from Dmitri’s mouth. It stuck to his hand, sticky and lightly sweet. Casper popped it in his mouth and then drew it out slow, rather enjoying the surprised groan from above him. He opened his eyes.
     
    “No imagination, my ass,” Dmitri scoffed breathlessly, and kissed the side of Casper’s neck.
     
    “Stop now and I’ll lose your paperwork for a year,” Casper promised him seriously and then threw his head back at the wave of merry, bright need rocking through him. Dmitri was in him before he could speak again, and even that was mere puffs and whispers as he fought the need to come. “Leave it to a creative elf to take this long to…” He couldn’t finish. It felt too good.
     
    “Casper.” Dmitri’s voice was weak, weaker when Casper tightened his legs and drew him down and licked the taste of peppermint into his mouth.
     
    “Mr. Silverbell to you,” Casper whispered sharply, with Dmitri inside him and over him, “ Mister .” He scratched Dmitri’s back at Dmitri’s pleased shudder.
     
    He wanted to say something else, something clever, but then Dmitri moved at last, so he squeezed his eyes closed and slid his hands up to Dmitri’s shoulders, and then down. He was aware he was still talking, rasping out, “That’s it, Hollyberry, good boy,” in tight, desperate voice, and that each time there was a shiver of muscle under his hands before Dmitri took him harder. Dmitri said his name again, a lot, and right before what felt like an explosion, like fire and possibly global warming, Casper heard himself murmur, “Dmitri,” as rough as the friction between his shoulders and the desk. 
     
    He blinked back into reality at the realization that, yes, he was uncomfortable, and also exhausted, and also smiling. Fortunately, Dmitri’s face was buried between his neck and shoulder, so Dmitri couldn’t see it.
     
    Very carefully, Casper slid a hand up, over the collar, into the punk hair. It was as soft as he remembered from the night before, maybe even softer. When he touched it, his fingers trailing over Dmitri’s scalp, Dmitri shivered and kissed his skin. “You are a very good boy, Mr. Hollyberry,” Casper praised him, and meant it. “I think I shall keep you.” He let his fingertip glance over the very tip of one of Dmitri’s ears before he finally dropped his hand to the desktop. He sighed. So, the Big Guy hadn’t forgotten him. It wasn’t as embarrassing now.  
     
    Dmitri’s words came out muffled against his bare skin, just under where Casper’s shirt and tie had been shoved out of the way by impatient hands. “Who are you and what have you done with my Casper?”
     
    Casper nearly snorted. His . Right. But when he spoke, his voice, irritatingly, cracked. “What?”
     
    “We’re at work .” Dmitri punctuated that teasing remark with a soft peck to his jaw that made Casper feel, annoyingly, like he was melting. But he decided to go with it. He let his head fall to the desk.
     
    He considered that, and then what department he was in, and who he was with. Something of the heat at the thought must have seeped into his voice when he spoke again. “So we are.”
     
    “We don’t have to be,” Dmitri was still talking, quiet little whispers that ended in quiet little kisses that did nothing to help Casper cool down or want to move. Not even thoughts of his suit or cooling jizz could do that. “We could go. Have dinner. Or just… we don’t have to be here.” He didn’t seem to be as certain when Casper took a long time to answer.
     
    Casper inhaled, peppermint in his mouth.