“Of all the days to forget my blasted keys,” John Barnaby muttered to himself as he trudged back into the station. He glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned. Already past midnight. This day was never going to end. The DCI nodded to the officers at the front desk on his way to the lifts. Causton police station was still bustling with activity down here, but the upper floors and offices were deserted at this hour.
Tired though he was, Barnaby’s thoughts turned back to his ongoing case as he pressed the button for the lift, noting idly that one was still out of order. He and Jones had been prodding and questioning all day - for most of the week, in fact - but still hadn't made any real progress. What is it with Midsomer county, he wondered wryly, that everyone seems to be allergic to telling the truth?
Through his musings, it dawned on Barnaby that the lift still hadn't moved. Sighing, he turned toward the stairs instead. Probably the night janitor, blocking the lift on each floor as he worked his way down. Normally that wouldn't matter, but with the other one out of order… well, at least the little cubby of an office he shared with Jones was only a couple floors up.
As he climbed, Barnaby found himself thinking about his sergeant. He hadn't been too sure at first that inheriting his cousin's partner would work out. Poor Jones had been completely blindsided by Tom’s retirement, and it had made for a rocky beginning to their working relationship. Fortunately, the sergeant had come around before too long and Barnaby had seen why his cousin spoke highly of the man. Admittedly, Jones still had a few things to learn, but he had real talent and all in all was as good a DS as anyone could hope to have.
Not to mention he is rather easy on the eyes, Barnaby thought with a smirk. As a rule, he tried to avoid thinking too much about his sergeant in that way, but he wasn't always terribly successful. Right now, he couldn't seem to stop his imagination from wandering back to Jones. Barnaby figured it must be the fatigue getting to him, lowering the barriers he normally kept up to remind himself that he was Jones’ superior officer, that he shouldn't think about Ben’s beautiful eyes and the shape of his mouth when it quirks up into one of those sweet, unguarded smiles, that he shouldn't be imagining how Ben’s strong yet slender hands would feel against his skin, sliding up under his shirt, and… damn it all.
Barnaby shook his head and mentally chided himself, not for the first time. It's not going to happen. So just stop thinking about it. Not everyone was quite as… adventurous as he and Sarah were, and all the evidence so far said Jones was as straight as they came. Although… he and Sarah had both noticed Jones shooting her appreciative glances when he thought neither of them was looking. Maybe he would be interested in joining them sometime.
Barnaby paused at the door exiting the stairwell, envisioning some of the extracurricular activities the three of them could get up to together. Jones would probably only want Sarah, but still… Images tumbled through his mind, one after another, of Ben and Sarah, kissing, touching, fucking, while John watched. He knew Sarah would get off on that as much as he would, and he couldn't help wondering if Ben would too. Tired as he was, he could feel himself getting hard at the thought. Flushed and breathing heavily, and not just from climbing those bloody stairs, Barnaby closed his eyes and groaned, resting his forehead against the cool metal of the door.
“Get a hold of yourself, John,” he told himself sternly. He'd been over this in his own mind before. He was Jones’ direct supervisor, and as such, nothing would happen unless the other man initiated it. And given Jones’ apparent orientation and rather conservative views when it came to sex, well, that wasn't likely to happen any time soon. You've wasted enough time daydreaming like a horny teenager, Barnaby thought firmly as he pulled open the door and made his way towards his office. It was well past time he headed home for a quick shower and bed.
The whole floor was quiet and dark. Most of the lights were programmed to shut off overnight, with only a few scattered lights kept on for safety. Everyone else had already left. Except… as he neared his office, Barnaby noticed there was still a light on, shining softly out through partially closed blinds. As he approached and got a better angle on the doorway, he was surprised to see that Jones hadn't left yet. He must have had more to finish up than I realized. Barnaby hesitated, chewing on his lower lip. He didn't quite feel up to facing his sergeant in this state, with his recent fantasies about the other man still fresh in his mind and his resulting hard-on not entirely subsided.
Jones was sitting in his office chair in the middle of the tiny room. His suit jacket and tie were in a careless heap on the desk beside him and the top several buttons of his shirt were undone. As Barnaby watched, belatedly thinking this was maybe not the best way to get rid of his erection, Jones rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair with a sigh, then closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. He looks so tired. I'll just give him a minute, then I'll go in, get my damn keys, and make sure he heads home and gets some rest. Barnaby wasn't sure he could trust himself around Jones just yet anyway. What he really wanted to do right then was to go in there and take Ben in his arms, run his own hands through that dark hair, rub some tension out of Ben’s shoulders, and then bring him home to bed.
A minute or two passed and Jones didn’t move, except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Just as Barnaby was thinking his sergeant must have fallen asleep in his chair, Jones let out a soft moan, barely audible, and shifted his hips in a way that made the watching DCI’s breath catch. Standing stock still and hardly daring to breathe in case Jones heard him, Barnaby told himself it was just his imagination, he was exhausted, he already had dirty thoughts in his head, and - Jones moaned again. Slightly louder this time. And definitely, deliberately, thrust his hips upwards in a slow, sensual movement. Arousal flooded hot and sharp through Barnaby’s gut, and he almost moaned out loud himself.
Completely unaware he had an audience, eyes still shut, Jones slid one hand across his chest and down along his stomach. Barnaby knew he should do something, he should leave, or make some noise as though he'd just walked in and hadn't seen anything, he should do anything other than just stand there staring, but he couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away from his sergeant’s hand as it moved over the thin fabric of his shirt. Jones’ hand continued on its path, slipping down past his belt, and Barnaby heard him suck in a sharp, hissing breath through his teeth as he pressed his hand down onto the bulge at his crotch.
Barnaby could feel the hot stiffness of his own cock straining against his clothing as he watched Jones start slowly rubbing himself through his suit trousers. The sergeant’s hips rocked up gently in rhythm to grind his erection into his hand, mouth opening slightly as his tongue flickered out to wet his lips. Barnaby could just faintly hear the rustle of Jones’ hand sliding against fabric, and found himself moving silently forward, listening intently. He was almost painfully hard already, and his cock gave an eager twitch when Jones broke his rhythm, thrusting up hard into his palm with a gasp and a whimper. Jones brought his other hand down and Barnaby swallowed hard as he heard the unmistakable jingle of a belt being undone.
“Ohhh fuck,” Jones groaned softly as he slipped a hand into his trousers and starting stroking himself. Barnaby was close enough that he could hear Jones panting slightly, could see the sergeant’s teeth biting at his bottom lip as the movement of his hand sped up, slowly but steadily. This is crazy, Barnaby thought. What the hell am I doing? Any second now he's going to look over and see me, and then what? He started backing away, turning to leave, but had only gone a few steps when Jones spoke, nearly giving him a heart attack.
“Oh god, yes… just like that, sir.” Barnaby froze in his tracks and looked back. His sergeant was still lounging back in his chair, eyes closed, long legs spread wide. He was still stroking his cock, and faster now. He'd pushed his shirt up and his free hand splayed across his belly, the muscles in his stomach tightening with the occasional thrust of his hips. And he had just said ‘sir’ in the same way, the same tone that Barnaby heard every day. For a second Barnaby thought he might come, untouched, right then and there.
“Fuck yes…” Jones groaned, “take me, sir, please… I want you, John.” Barnaby couldn't walk away after hearing that. Fuck it, he thought, as he threw sense and caution out the window and walked towards his sergeant. Jones was breathing hard with his head tilted back and mouth open, making little whimpering gasps, his body quivering as he almost desperately stroked his cock under his clothes.
“Ohhh god yes, John, fuck me, sir, harder, please, I'm so close… I need… I'm gonna -”
“Come for me, Jones,” Barnaby growled as he pressed the length of his rock hard erection up against Ben’s shoulder, twining his fingers into Ben’s hair and gently tugging the sergeant’s head back further. Ben’s eyes flew open in shock and fastened on John’s, and he cried out wordlessly as he came hard, his whole body shuddering as release tore through him.
Barnaby held his eyes for a long moment, feeling his sergeant twitch and quiver against him, then leaned down and met Ben’s lips with his. Jones melted into the kiss, mouth warm and wet and willing, his soft moans from the aftershocks of orgasm muffled between them. The rest of the world receded like a dream, all the thoughts and worries of his rational mind dissipating like mist on the wind, and Barnaby couldn't say how long he lost himself in that moment, in the sweet mouth of his sergeant.