There are some things one should not know about one's CO.
One should not know how one's CO looks bent over a table in a little used lab, shirtless with his pants around his ankles, while the Chief Scientific Advisor of the mission nails him to the hard surface.
One should not know how his skin glistens under the dim light, how the corded muscles ripple under it when he moves to meet each thrust.
One should not hear how he moans, groans and begs "faster, harder" with a needy whisper.
One should not know how he closes his eyes, arches his back and calls "Rodney" when he comes all over his lover's hand.
One should not know how he looks utterly sated, letting his lover ride him to achieve his own release. How he looks at his lover when he comes inside him, how he smiles at him when "Love you" is whispered into his ear, how he guides his lover's mouth to kiss him even in the awkward position.
One should not want to stroll into the room, tear said scientist away and fuck his CO until it's his name the one he cries when he comes.
One should not come in his pants while seeing all of this, crouched like a thief behind some supply crates, drawing blood from his own lips while trying to not make a noise.
One should not wait until they leave the room to let oneself fall to the floor and cry one's heart out.
One should not fall in love with one's CO.
- END -