Summary: Laurel convinces Grayson to take a break from working on a Sunday. Pointless smut.
Laurel isn’t surprised to wake up to find Grayson’s side of the bed empty. He almost always wakes up before her and heads to the gym, even on Sundays, and she usually wakes up while he’s gone.
She is surprised, though, to hear the low murmur of his voice in his home office when she pads into the kitchen. Grayson rarely works on Sundays. After she grabs her favorite mug and fills it with coffee, she makes her way to Grayson’s office. She leans against the door frame, appreciating the sight before her. He’s still on the phone, leaning back in his desk chair. She’s assuming he’s been on the phone since he got back from the gym, because he’s shirtless and in athletic pants, and his hair is still damp from the shower.
Grayson smiles warmly when he sees her, his lips quirking up in a hint of a smirk when he sees her eyes lingering on his bare chest. He says goodbye to whoever he’s talking to, then sets the phone down.
“Good morning,” Laurel greets him, walking in and leaning against the edge of his desk.
“Morning,” he says, squeezing her bare knee.
“You know it’s Sunday,” she reminds him.
He sighs. “I know. I just have to-“
His phone rings, and Grayson glances at the screen.
“I’m sorry. I have to take this. I’ll try to make it fast,” he promises.
Laurel leans down, pecking his lips once, and feels him smile briefly. “Okay.”
He’s still on the phone after she eats breakfast, reads the paper, and showers. She peeks into his office just before eleven, and he mouths an apology to her, a frustrated look on his face. Laurel loves his dedication to his job and to the community, but every so often, like now, she wishes he had just a tiny bit less.
When she hears him hang up the phone, she heads back into his office. Grayson groans when his phone starts ringing again.
“You should stop working,” Laurel says, sitting on the edge of his desk.
She sees him open his mouth, maybe to protest, then close it again when she rests her hands on his shoulders and straddles his lap. The phone continues ringing on his desk, but he ignores it, running his hands up and down her thighs.
“I can probably take a break,” he murmurs, slipping his hands around her back and pulling her against him.
Laurel sighs when he kisses her, then runs his tongue over her lower lip. They both frown when his phone rings again. Grayson grabs it and turns it off, tossing it back on his desk.
His office chair creaks quietly when he leans them back, kissing her again, harder and unrestrained. Laurel runs her fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair, her hips rolling into his. Grayson groans and flexes his fingers against her hips, the noise sending pleasure straight to her belly.
He pulls her shirt over her head, then undoes her bra, his mouth warm when he kisses her neck and collarbones. She sucks in a breath, her eyes closing when he runs his tongue over one of her nipples, gently sucking it into his mouth, and cups her other breast in his hand.
“Stand up, baby,” he murmurs after a minute, helping her up.
Grayson slides her pants and underwear off, his pupils dilating at the sight of her naked before him. Laurel whimpers when he kisses below her belly button and gently nudges her thighs apart, his fingers trailing over her sensitive skin.
“Wait,” she gasps.
He glances up at her in confusion, stilling his hands. She tugs at his waistband until he stands up, then pushes his pants and boxers down. An appreciative hum leaves her lips before she can stop it. Laurel takes him in, gliding her hands over the lines of his muscles. She really did marry a beautiful man, inside and out. She slips one of her hands lower, and hears Grayson groan.
His chest rises and falls rapidly when she presses against his shoulders until he sits back down, his chair rocking back, then kneels in front of him. Grayson stares at her.
“Laurel,” he says huskily.
“Hmm?” she murmurs, leaning forward and running her tongue over him.
He makes a strangled noise, his hands coming up to push her hair back. Laurel hears him start to say something else, and parts her lips, taking his length into her mouth. Grayson jerks against her, letting out a drawn-out moan.
Laurel likes the noises he makes, likes seeing him uninhibited and turned on for her like this. His fingers run through her hair, tightening every so often when she sucks harder or gently scrapes her teeth over him.
She feels his thighs tense under her hands and he pulls her back suddenly, flushed and breathing hard. Laurel stands, Grayson tugging her towards him until she slips back into his lap, her legs on either side of his. They both groan when she slowly sinks on to him, burying her face into his neck.
Grayson’s hands grip her hips, thrusting up and grinding her down on him, his breath hot and rapid against her skin as they move together. The leather from his chair digs into her knees, but she doesn’t even care, it feels so good to be with him. Her lips press to his neck, her teeth just grazing over his skin.
She’s close, and slips her hand between them, desperate for release. Grayson murmurs something she doesn’t catch, moving one of his hands, then kisses her deeply, his fingers tangling with hers and gently pushing her hand away. He just barely touches her, and she whimpers, her thighs tightening around his.
His touch becomes bolder, and her hips snap into his, her fingers digging into the back of his neck. She’s reduced to breathy moans, aching for him. Grayson nudges her head back to kiss her, his mouth desperate against hers. He thrusts up and presses his thumb harder against her clit, and she comes apart.
“Grayson!” she gasps.
Laurel just barely hears him groan her name and feels him tense, holding her tightly against him. She exhales noisily against him as she comes down, brushing her lips over his shoulder. Grayson relaxes underneath her, trailing his hands up and down her back. He laughs quietly when he hits a ticklish spot and she squirms, making her smile into his skin. Grayson lifts her chin up to press his lips to hers, soft and slow.
“You work too hard,” Laurel murmurs, half-teasing and half-explanation.
His lips quirk up. “So I’ve been told.”
She shifts back on his lap, looping her arms around his neck and playing with the ends of his hair.
“I’m done for today though,” he assures her.
“You sure?”
Grayson stands, his arms solid around her, his lips a whisper against hers. “I’m sure.”