Piere Leclerc (m/m When your boss is being a horifically unsympathetic menace towards one of your colleagues)

"Where's the other guy?" Asks, Dumas, a tension in his voice as he looks around.

Driss, seems surprised for a moment. Then looks around thoughtfully. "Ah, Pirer, I think I saw him in go to WC."

Everyone looked at towards the door on the far end of the office suite. It was firmly shut. Driss went over and knocked gently against the door then spoke against it.

"Hey Piere, you in there? It's fine, you can come out now. You'll be finished in no time and, you'll be able to leave with me. Everything's gonna be fine." Driss coaxed.

Piere Leclerc was fairly new to the guild but he'd been a guide for almost 10 years. He had the lowest scores amongst the group of top 10 guides (exuding the exclusive guides) at just about 51% compatibility. Rumor had it that Dumas had discovered him during one of the inter-guild exchanges, the RA had made a bid to buy up his contract, which had been accepted.

It was only after Leclerc arrived at the guild that people started to realize that he had mental issues. The guild was paying for his therapy now, but Leclerc hadn't managed to integrate smoothly into the guild.

To be honest, Paul hadn't had a good impression of him either, but he also felt sorry for him. His gut twisted in unease and concern as he glanced over at Dumas's tense shoulders. Paul was very sure, Dumas wasn't going to be a good influence on Piere's mental health.

Driss tried the bathroom door. It was locked.

That was the moment Dumas snapped. With long strides he swept over to the bathroom door, Driss backed off quickly and after a moment of hesitation turned to to fumble in one of the draws in a nearby bookcase.

Dumas, on the other hand held his hand over the door handle for a few seconds. Eyes closed. Going still.

Paul's hair rose on end, He edged away, even thought there was an entire room between them. The bathroom lock clicked. Dumas slammed it open and surged in. The door bounded off the wall and almost closed behind him, standing slightly ajar.

"What shitty game are you playing at huh?" They all heard Dumas shouting. "Get that dammed ass off the toilet and do your job."

There was a furtive, murmured reply and some fumbling. Followed by a brief silence.

Paul got a very bad feeling about that.

"What the hell are you playing at huh!? You haven't prepared a damn thing!" There was a slam of a toilet seat and the flat slapping of skin on tiles followed by a pained moan.

"You think this is a joking matter. You think I would do it for you huh? I'm gonna fuck you over so you have something to cry to your psychologist about."

Paul, felt ill with unease.

Muffled pleading started up along with some slapping and fumbling noises.

Driss, gently pushed the door open, peering in. "Hey, Bastien."

The noises from the bathroom stilled, "Catch" Driss tossed in the familiar tin most lube came in, nowadays. There was an affirmative grunt and clink of metal meting a hand, and Driss retreated from the doorway.

"You think I do this for fun? You think we ask you to prepare yourself for my sake?" Metal clattered against tile, and a whimpering noise could be heard.

"You can fucking tear and bleed all over the place! You think we want that? It's for your own damn sake!" As Dumas ranted, whimpering moans began to pick up and soon after a rithemic slapping sound commenced.

Paul wanted to close his ear to the noises, but his mind couldn't turn away from the imagery the sounds were painting.

Dumas wouldn't, right? He wouldn't outright **** a guide, would he?

Staring at the open bathroom door, Paul couldn't see anything which was going on in there because the angle he was standing at. But he could hear it all to clearly.

Driss was keeping his distance, but paying attention to what was happening in there. Monique had recovered enough to get of the counter and after glancing in had gone make some food in the kitchen, utterly ignoring the sounds of conflict.

Odette had buried herself in her blankets holding her hands over her ears. Nathalie was passing nervously about, not seeming to know what to do with herself. Paul's gaze met hers, and she reflexively smiled, though it dropped quickly off of her lips and they both averted their eyes.

Lastly his eyes landed on the final person in the room. He'd managed to keep his presence unobtrusive, and to be frank, Paul had wanted to give him some privacy.

Amri Haddad, he was Algerian, and newly awakened as a guide. He was only 20 years old had the unfortunate luck of matching with Dumas at the National guide center. Dumas had gone for a publicity appearance as on of the countries S ranked Espers and assisted in some of the practical demonstrations. Their compatibility was at 53% and Dumas had snatched him up immediately, even cutting the guys training short using his connections.

He'd been packed off from Paris to Lyon on the other side of the country and enrolled into the guild. He'd barely had time to land before Dumas had requested the man's first sexual guidance. Although it had happened in private, poor Amir had learned the hard way to never meet his heroes.

Paul had pitied and sympathieed with Amir, and they'd gotten pretty close. Amir had actually confessed that he'd lost his virginity to Dumas, which... well... sucked a lot.

Fortunately, Dumas had been away for a bit and Amir had missed the last guiding session with Dumas due to food poisoning.

Paul had grown close to Amir over these two months and done what he could to prepare the guy. He'd even helped Amir prepare as much as he could, and Amir had taken him upp on those offers.

So seeing the wide eyed fear and suppressed horror on Amir's face in that moment made Paul feel responsible.

Paul looked away, ashamed of his own inaction, along with everyone else's. They were all supposed to be Amir's seniors, yet what were they all doing now? Being utter cowards.

"You fucking like this don't you?! You like it when I'm rough with you, huh! You should have just ask instead of provioking me, huh!

"Is he really..." Amir, mouthed at him.

Paul, swallowed. Dumas's Vitriol had changed in nature becoming a lot more sexual.

"I'll go check what's going on." He said out loud, to both Amir and Nathalie. The long legged model stopped in her tracks and watched him as he hesitantly moved through the room.

"Whining and crying, so pathetic! Fucking squeeze harder, don't make me do everything! Beg me to go faster, filthy whore." The familiar sounds of flesh slapping flesh echoed out of the bathroom along with Pier's guttural moans that may as well have been sobs. Paul didn't really go closer to the door instead, he was circling the room to get an angle that would allow him to see what was happening in the bathroom through the open door.

He wasn't sure what to do if Dumas was really **** the poor guy. What could he do? He didn't know how unstable Dumas actually was, nor how much of his behaviour during sex, was just him being an ass. But at the slightest of "provocations" the guy would blow up and take it out on everyone else.

The only thing he could think of was offering himself, but at the thought of doing so, of intervening and drawing attention to himself. Well, his throat closed up and his heart beat faster with trepidation. He wasn't sure he would even be able to make a sound right now.