Work Text:
Seokjin and Taehyung end up doing it on Yoongi's desk.
It's not the first time.
(The first time: "Let's do it on his desk," Taehyung said, with his innocent/evil grin, to which Seokjin replied, "You know something? Your initiative continues to impress and frighten me.")
It's not the second time either.
(The second time: "Oh my God. Oh, my God. Taehyung... Taehyung, oh, Jesus," Seokjin huffed, and Taehyung, who had just come, panted, "He's going to sit there, Seokjin. He's going to sit there tomorrow and he'll have no idea.")
Yeah, it's... it's not the third time. It's kind of gotten up there in numbers now.
Probably the correct phrasing would be: Seokjin and Taehyung end up doing it on Yoongi's desk again. For the second time. That day.
This time, it's much more dangerous, because it's a lunch break, and Namjoon's taken everyone to Mc donald's to reward them for a good week of hard work (and for not blowing the whistle on his example-setting turned burning of a bunch of reports he shouldn't have) and they've lied to get out of it.
"Oh, you know what? I don't think I should go. I have a bunch of faxes to send out by the end of the day," Taehyung had lied rather beautifully, and picked up a manila folder full of blank copier paper, memos, and an old Threat Level: Midnight script. It was a hefty folder that sounded like a phone book or something when he dropped it again. "But will you bring me back some papers?"
"Sorry, Namjoon. Love to, but can't. Told corporate I'd meet one of their guys for lunch," said Seokjin casually, perking Yoongi's ears, eyes, and nose.
Jungkook gives him a light whack with the back of his hand as he files past him, like he's saying, Party-pooper! Or, You didn't tell me about this! or I can't believe you're leaving me alone with these people. Any of those. It's not a good whack. He'll probably have to have a long conversation about feelings and their future with him later.
They wait five minutes, just in case Namjoon comes back having forgotten his cell phone, wallet, any gift certificates, magic set, or cordless microphone. The clock ticks to 12:05, and Seokjin - who's been hard for the last ten minutes at least - is just about to twirl around in his chair to hail Taehyung when his phone rings. He shoots a look at Taehyung, who's innocently typing something, and picks up the phone. He hopes it's not corporate, because that would be karma kicking him in the ass, and he hopes it's not Namjoon... or Jungkook.
“Hello, Seokjin speaking," he says, pitching his voice the same way Taehyung does, just 'cause he's so darn used to it.
"It's been dripping out all day," says Taehyung's soft voice.
There's silence - heavy, absolute silence - for a few moments in the empty office, only the dull buzzing of the fluorescent overhead lights and the distant hiss of traffic outside. He slowly turns, then, chair squeaking a little, to look at Taehyung. Now he's got his phone to his ear, but he's not meeting his eyes. Seokjin turns back.
"All day?" he asks the receiver lowly.
"Yep," he says. Seokjin cannot even imagine it; he shakes his head, pinching at the bridge of his nose and grinning incredulously.
"All day," he repeats.
"All day," Taehyung confirms. He sounds like he's smiling. He can just tell. His voice drops into a whisper, like they're not the only ones in the office. "I went to the washroom earlier..."
"I noticed," says Seokjin.
"Jimin was in there already, but I had to clean up. It was just leaking out. It got my --" He stops.
"Say it," he coaxes gently.
Taehyung gets out, in a rush, "It got my panties all wet. It was all just - sticking to them. Totally thick. ... It's still coming out."
Holy --
Seokjin has no idea, none at all, whether he should apologize or freak out or come in his pants. That last thing would be awkward and hard to cover up, so he has no idea what Taehyung's been going through this entire day. He sneaks a look at him. He meets his eyes and he's pleasantly pink, not unlike his shirt.
"I think I've got to see this to believe it. Come over here," he suggests, looking at him over his knuckles wrapped around the phone.
"Is that an order?" Taehyung asks teasingly. There's a slight glimmer of teeth in his smile that makes Seokjin grin, too, as if by reflex.
"Yes. Yes, it is," Seokjin replies. "I order you, as your superior, to stand up, walk over here, and seat yourself across from me."
He hangs up on him and practically flounces over, like this is the greatest prank they've played since coming in early to fuck on Yoongi's desk. (Again.) Seokjin watches him; his trouser doesn't show any signs of wear and tear or, you know - come. He hangs up, too, and watches Taehyung as he rounds the desk, so hard in his work pants now that his cock is sitting full in the cradle of his zip and pocket.
"Very good, Taehyung. Excellent work," he says casually, as he seats himself in Yoongi's chair and leans back with an important smirk on his face. "Can you do something else for me while you're over here?"
"Sure," says Taehyung in his quiet, friendly way, though his eyes are glinting.
"Go ahead and open your legs up," Seokjin says, tapping on his lip thoughtfully.
He watches as Taehyung licks his lips, then obeys him with careful deliberation, he pulled his pants down and spread his thighs. Seokjin can see a shadowy hint of his underwear (it's pink; Taehyung likes to neatly coordinate his panties, which are usually bikini-cut, to match his shirt or sweater) and the silky insides of his thighs. It's hard to believe he was just between them earlier, blowing his load up in his cunt, right there on Yoongi's desk.
"Show me my come," says Seokjin, and it comes out sort of twisted, somehow - casual, yet not at all, so heavy and breathless. He throbs in his pants just saying it, let alone at the sight of Taehyung arching a brow and moving his hands on his knees to spread his legs wider.
Now Seokjin can tell. There's this slight wet spot along the delicate crotch of his panties, and Taehyung hooks a finger into it so he can pull it aside, sitting there in Yoongi's chair and exposing himself to him daringly. Taehyung is so fucking awesome. And he's leaking his come.
Yeah. Yeah, he is. His pussy's so cute - he keeps it neat and trimmed, so there's this cluster of chestnut curls at the apex and it's all flushed pink and looks raw and fucked from that early morning screw, and there's this wet, slightly pearly glint to it. He's fucking dripping his come and it's sticking to his panties from his hole, oh my God.
He just wants to... lick it out of him or something.
... So he does.
"Seokjin," Taehyung gasps, scandalized, as Seokjin slides out of his chair and drops to his knees and buries his face between his legs in about two seconds flat. He's wet and his pussy's tart and sweet and slimy with jizz, and it smells bitter and warm. His muscles all seem to clench in alarm, making this heavy drip of warm jizz slide out of his and onto Seokjin's tongue, and he repeats, "Seokjin! Oh my God."
He hopes he loves it half as much as he does.
A minute later, he's got his slumping back in the chair with his legs wide open and Seokjin has licked him clean, moving his tongue over the soft, swollen folds of his cunt and slipping it in to grind at his clit to make him gasp and tighten and come, grasping around the chair, his chest heaving in his fitting shirt.
"You're so incredible, Taehyung," Seokjin finally pulls back to moan, his chin wet and his mouth flushed.
"I know, I'm awesome," Taehyung pants incoherently. "Do me on his desk again, quick, before lunch is over."
"Awesome. So awesome," echoes Seokjin, shoving away Yoongi's keyboard.
He hauls Taehyung over the desk, and several bubbleheads tumble over and roll across Seokjin's desk, onto the floor - wherever. Taehyung's curls spill across Seokjin's desk, and Seokjin fumbles with his belt.
"You know what you're gonna have to do?" he asks Taehyung in a huff as he gets his zip down with a quick bzzt. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you're gonna have to go to the wash room again in about half an hour, 'cause I'm gonna fill you up with another load --"
"Seokjin," Taehyung gasps, grinning somewhat reproachfully, which is how Seokjin knows he's all over the idea.
"Say you want me to," Seokjin says teasingly; he gasps as he pushes his hips in and jabs the head of his cock against the damp, warm crotch of his panties. It slides, wet and slimy, under the catching pressure, back and forth across his slit, and he watches Taehyung’s spine curl against the unforgiving surface of Yoongi's desk. "C'mon, just - tell me I should do it..."
"Do it," he breathes. "I dare you."
Seokjin's prick throbs just from that, this massive thrill clenching in his guts. He uses a thumb to smear the crotch of Taehyung's panties away and fucks into him in one hot, smooth movement, burying himself in him until his zip is dangerously near to getting his juices on it. He breathes out this totally un-Taehyung-like obscenity, and Seokjin wonders if he's as big as Taehyung’s ex boyfriend, as good as him. Every time he fucks Taehyung, he fucks him like he's got to prove he's better.
"You dare me?" he echoes, grinning. His face feels hot as he leans over Taehyung and stares at him, wanting to kiss him but unsure if he should.
"Well," he says thickly, grinning back with this masterful control over his expression, "if you think you're up for it..."
He just about loses it in every way, laughing pathetically and driving into his jizz-slick pussy with abandon.
They just fucked right there this morning. Five hours ago, tops, half listening for the slam of a car door outside and half just frantic and high on their own daring.
Seokjin comes even faster this time.
"I'm - I'm gonna come in you again," he whispers heavily, the mere idea cinching it for him.
"You gonna make me drip?" Taehyung asks, his little voice steely, and Seokjin can't even nod, he's letting go so hard, coming in his in one, two, three, four hot pulses.
It's the second time that day he's shot his wad in Taehyung and left him to drip it all out again.
They've been back at their desks for at least twenty minutes when Namjoon bursts through the office door, leading the whole pack -, Ryan, Kelly, Phyllis, Andy, Jungkook, Jimin, Yoongi. No one looks pleased except Hoseok, who always looks kind of pleased; Yoongi appears to have spilled something down his shirt. Namjoon, however, bangs on the receptionist's desk happily.
"Taehyung! Those faxes. You get those done?"
"I have to go to the bathroom," he says softly, turning away from Namjoon and scurrying off to the washroom, and Seokjin exchanges comically confused shrugs with his boss.
"What was that about?" Jungkook asks, in this dry I don't really want to know anyway.
Seokjin smiles, swiveling in his chair.
Yoongi, meanwhile, is perched in his seat, sniffing suspiciously.