Work Text:
For all of the 20-something—the December-born man often avoids thinking of the second digit on purpose—years Sunghoon has walked this Earth, becoming an assistant never once appeared in his where do you see yourself five years from now essays. Sure, it wasn’t like it was a completely unforeseeable career path; a lot of business graduates end up working as non-businessmen every year. Yet with his tendencies of never shutting up whenever he’s got any sort of ideas running through his head, young (well, younger) Sunghoon just assumed he would have ended up with a startup idea by the end of his final year.
Obviously, that never happened.
After completing a 6-month long internship as an assistant to a high-end lawyer at one of the top law firms in his city, Sunghoon was offered a place to go to the second he graduated with a bachelor’s degree, and for a university student who didn’t really know what he wanted to do past his four years, it was a sealed deal. Now here he is, over half a decade into his job, working for a different and considerably younger lawyer than the one he has previously worked for, with shit ass work hours and dozens of daily meetings with all kinds of dickheads who’ve got sticks and stones shoved permanently up their asses.
For the most part, though, his life really isn’t all that bad. He owns his own cozy apartment, the job pays well, and not everyone’s some crazily entitled prick at Lim & Park. At least not Sim Jaeyun.
Sunghoon met Jaeyun back when they had just graduated from different universities—the latter having spent his time overseas—and Jaeyun was this really bright guy clad in the most basic black and white suit he’d ever seen who somehow was able to make up for it with his million-dollar smile. Sunghoon was then put under the impression that Jake was definitely innocent at heart, though not for long. He was proven wrong from the very moment the two shared their first lunch.
Sim Jaeyun, as it turns out, is a little devil. But in a building full of stuck up lawyers, Sunghoon would take his fellow secretary over anyone any day.
As it usually goes during their lunch breaks, Sunghoon and Jaeyun are seated at a table together inside a building just a few skyscrapers away from their form. Sunghoon’s ranting about his younger sister crashing at his apartment because she apparently managed to get into this ridiculously huge fight with her boyfriend of five years—whom she shares an apartment with—and isn’t planning on leaving until the douchebag begs her himself, and his friend busies himself with taking sips of his latte in between his chuckles.
“I love her, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t even think in peace anymore.” Jaeyun offers him an apologetic look after a particularly deep huff. “And the dude’s so fucking dense too. Like, fuck, I don’t know where she pulled him from—”
The topic doesn’t last long, however, as a familiar glint makes its way to Jaeyun’s eyes.
“So,” Jaeyun starts, leaning his body forward ever so slightly, and Sunghoon’s stomach does some sort of cartwheel. Jaeyun never starts his good ideas with a dragged out so. “How many times have you slept with your boss?”
“What?” Is Jaeyun actually being serious? “How’d we even get here—”
“Don’t give me that look,” Jaeyun says. “Come on, Hoon. All secretaries go through the same thing. You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”
Sunghoon doesn’t want to think about the implications of Jaeyun’s words. Sunghoon doesn’t want to think about his boss’ childhood friend whom Sunghoon coincidentally shares a last name with having his hands all over his best friend either. And Sunghoon definitely doesn’t want to think about his boss—no.
Definitely not that.
“Never,” Sunghoon tells him with affirmation, and maybe a little too much. Sunghoon visibly winces within the next few seconds, and it’s a dead giveaway—Sunghoon just lied through his teeth. He allows a three-second-long pause to reign between them before he finally decides it’s too much. “Alright, now you’re just being an asshole. You know I used to have a crush on the guy a few years back. But that still doesn’t change anything—”
“Do I really need to put you through a mock deposition for you to—”
“None of that lawyer shit in front of my salad, Jaeyun,” Sunghoon threatens. Jaeyun merely snorts.
Their lunch is interrupted by Sunghoon’s ringtone, a name he knows all too well by now flashing bright on his phone’s screen.
“Just Lee Heeseung? Boring,” Jaeyun complains, dragging out the vowels of the last word as much as he can. The Sagittarius man sends the Scorpio man a displeased scowl in response.
“Sunghoon.” Lee Heeseung’s voice nearly forces Sunghoon’s heart out of his chest for some reason. “My office. Now.”
“You might wanna bring him a bagel,” Jaeyun comments. “Sounds a bit more pissed off than usual. Angry sex is great, though—”
Sunghoon doesn’t want to think about anything at all.
Lee Heeseung’s office is, like every other pretentious lawyer-owned office, too much glass and expensive things that don’t mean much of anything to him and too little down-to-earth. His bookshelves are a mini law library with some business and self-help books every few columns, the large oil painting in the middle of the room that Sunghoon finds difficulty in understanding was won from an auction, and the miscellaneous figurines lined against the large window are all gifts from his clients that are just there to show off his connections. The only personal thing he’s got is a small framed family portrait, but even that’s studio-taken, and they’re all wearing expensive suits and dresses; something to show off his status.
“Where were you?” It hasn’t even been a second since Sunghoon’s stepped inside Heeseung’s office, yet the former’s already being shot at. “I needed you an hour ago.”
God. Lawyers and their dramatics.
“Lunch, obviously,” Sunghoon answers, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. “Here’s a bagel.”
“Oh, thanks,” Heeseung says, offering him a curt smile, “but I need my meetings rescheduled and a list of associates who might be familiar with the entertainment industry. Kim Nara just called and asked for a meeting at 2.”
“You know, if you paid more attention to our associates, you wouldn’t need a list,” Sunghoon comments, pursing his lips. He feels something burn inside him, past the stuffy suit he’s got on, for reasons unknown even to himself. Before he can really process what he’s relaying to his own superior, Sunghoon continues, “For a junior partner, you sure depend on me a lot.”
“Most junior partners don’t even have secretaries,” Heeseung replies, scoffing. “Sue me for giving you work, then.”
Again; the inexplicable fire burns again. Sunghoon can feel the way it prickles under his skin and threatens to spill out. He closes his eyes briefly in annoyance, to which Heeseung answers with a raise of his eyebrow. “That’s not the point, idiot. I had to rush back from lunch thinking you had some kind of emergency when it’s not even that bad. Hell, you could’ve gone and called an associate yourself. A junior partner’s—”
As soon as Sunghoon’s pupils catch Heeseung’s once more, the former’s entire body freezes.
The Libra man’s eyes are sharper than they were just a second ago. His eyebrows are more furrowed, lips set into a thin line, jaw just the slightest bit clenched. Heeseung looks at Sunghoon like it’s a dare—like he’s challenging Sunghoon to have the balls to finish that goddamn sentence, and the younger doesn’t remember being this intimidated by the older before. Maybe Jaeyun was right; the Libra man sounding a little more on edge than usual—possibly from thinking about the fate of his billables if he manages to sign his new client—is dangerous.
And maybe even a little—
“A junior partner’s what, Sunghoon?” Heeseung inquires, taking a few steps forward, bringing Sunghoon back from his little daze. “You know, for a secretary, you sure do talk down on me a lot.”
“I mean, I didn’t—yes. I’ll get to it,” Sunghoon manages, clearing his throat. He mentally curses himself for stuttering, biting his bottom lip from the sudden nerves. “Sorry.”
Lee Heeseung surprises Park Sunghoon with a glance at the latter’s lip then back to his eyes. Right hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder, body slightly leaning forward, mouth right next to the Sagittarius’ ear, “Good boy. That’s more like it.”
What the fuck was that?
Lee Heeseung, 29, junior partner at Lim & Park, leaves his office with both hands inside his pockets and a smirk that only surfaces when he feels like he’s won something. Park Sunghoon, 27, assistant to said junior partner, stands in the center of the older man’s office with cheeks as red as the sauce his friend had at lunch earlier and a heart beating as erratically as that of a teenage boy’s. After a few seconds of recollection, the Sagittarius man’s hands fly out to cover his face, silently cursing Jaeyun for all the bullshit he spewed during break. This is definitely Jaeyun’s fault; his body’s playing tricks on him only because Jaeyun managed to catch him off guard and Heeseung called at the worst possible time. He hasn’t been getting much sleep either—that must be it. If they had that useless little argument some other time, he wouldn’t have reacted in the same way. There’s no doubt about it—nothing else to it.
What the fuck was that?
There was nothing to it, right. There should be nothing to it, but Park Sunghoon finds himself constantly snapping at Lee Heeseung whenever he approaches him for no apparent reason—like his peace is being threatened by Heeseung’s presence alone.
For example, when Sunghoon comes to work wearing a new suit, and Heeseung’s initial response is to look his secretary up and down and ask, “Have you always had this suit?” Then, when Sunghoon lets out a stuttered no, Heeseung replies, “It looks good on you.” And the Sagittarius? His immediate words are none other than fuck off. Heeseung has to blink twice to make sure he’s heard Sunghoon’s words right.
Or when Sunghoon’s placing down some papers on Heeseung’s desk when the latter’s supposed to be busy with a meeting, only for a slender hand to appear around his waist and subtly move him aside so the owner of the room can take a closer look at the stack ten minutes earlier than expected. Sunghoon nearly jumps out of his skin at the contact, swearing, “What the fuck?” Even after Heeseung apologizes for scaring him and thanks him for the papers, Sunghoon gives him a bitter reply, “Have some decency next time.”
Or on a regular Friday, when Heeseung sits as he usually does, legs spread apart comfortably on his office couch with a contract in hand. Sunghoon walks in with a few more papers, slams them on his boss’ coffee table, and asks with the fakest smile Heeseung’s ever seen him don, “Can’t you sit properly for once?”
It doesn’t make any sense, especially not to Heeseung, when Sunghoon’s never been this petty with him. Hell, not even during that one time Heeseung came to work late and Sunghoon had to get an earful from a client with a goddamn monocle for fuck’s sake. Besides, Sunghoon’s supposed to be civil with him so his schedules can be managed well and what kind of junior partner would he be if he couldn’t even get his secretary to work the way he’s supposed to?
It isn’t like Heeseung’s the reincarnation of the devil either. If Park Sunghoon had to admit, his superior’s one of the more tame lawyers he’s had the rather unfortunate luck of meeting throughout his life. Sure, he’s got his bad days, got a temper and some level of narcissism of his own, but everyone’s like that. He’s actually nice to Sunghoon most of the time and compliments him quite often. He doesn’t get mad at Sunghoon for treating him like an equal—some lawyers are batshit crazy with seniority—and goes along with his jokes. He has a really nice smile too, although Sunghoon pushes that thought to the back of his mind immediately, not wanting to entertain his long-buried crush any longer.
And Park Sunghoon tries, God, he tries, to really focus on his work and go back to the way things have always been. But with Jaeyun’s demon constantly urging him to think of his own boss, to think of Lee Heeseung rolling up his sleeves, to think of Lee Heeseung running his long fingers through his hair, to think of Lee Heeseung standing taller than himself—and mind you, the Sagittarius man’s got some height himself—yeah.
Park Sunghoon is fucked.
“Sunghoon.” Heeseung’s voice through Sunghoon’s phone line scares the latter out of his daze for the umpteenth time this week. “I need you to follow me.”
So Sunghoon does. He doesn’t question his superior when Heeseung takes him through the busy center then down to the corridors nobody really uses anymore. He doesn’t question it when he finds the two of them standing right in front of Heeseung’s old office where the room is smaller and the walls aren’t made of expensive glass. He doesn’t question it when Heeseung opens the door for him and gestures to him to go inside.
Sunghoon starts wondering if he really should’ve questioned every single step they took once he hears the click of a lock he hasn’t heard in a while.
Sunghoon quickly whips his head back and stares at Heeseung with an incredulous look. The Libra man moves confidently, like he’s done nothing worthy of Sunghoon’s suspicion, and leans against the door with both hands shoved inside his pockets.
“I don’t want anyone walking by my office and seeing me yell at my own secretary,” Heeseung says, as if one sentence alone is enough of an explanation for everything. “We don’t have a lot of time, so I’d appreciate it if you’d be open with me. What’s actually gotten into you, Sunghoon?”
And really, Sunghoon should've expected this question. The fact that the Sagittarius man even managed to go a few days before this inevitable confrontation is a miracle in itself. But how the fuck is Sunghoon even supposed to answer?
Sorry, boss, I haven’t been working well lately because I keep imagining what it’d feel like to be bent over your desk.
Sorry, boss, I keep imagining myself sitting on your lap and having your mouth stubbornly leaving bruises on my skin while a desperate client of yours rots in a meeting room somewhere.
Sorry, boss, I keep imagining you slipping your hands in between my legs whenever we stand a little too close to each other.
Do you think of me inappropriately too?
Sunghoon stands firm, right in the center of the room, and says absolutely nothing. Heeseung’s mouth makes a sound, somewhat ticked off.
“Alright, since asking nicely won’t work, let me ask you this again, Sunghoon.” Heeseung slows his speech slightly, and this time, with a little more roughness to it. “What the hell’s got you so annoyed at me? It’s like we can’t even work in the same room.”
Upon hearing nothing once more, the older man pushes his back off the door and walks forward. Sunghoon, still maintaining eye contact with his boss, takes a couple steps backward.
Forward, backward, forward, backward.
When the back of Sunghoon’s legs make contact with Heeseung’s old table, the younger one knows it’s over.
Flashes of the first day they met, the first week, hell, even the first month come crashing down on Sunghoon all at once, and if it weren’t for the table, he would have lost his balance entirely.
“As you know, they need a few senior lawyers to send over to our new branch. Bit unfortunate we won’t be working together this time around,” Lawyer Zhang says, and his words scare Sunghoon more than the young secretary would like. “Junior partners don’t usually get this privilege, but this guy’s pretty crazy, made a deal to sign an impossible client with our name partners for this. From what I’ve heard, he’s around your age too.”
With every step closer to his new boss’ office, fear lodges itself increasingly comfortably in his chest, while dread stubbornly challenges the remaining confidence in his throat.
“Park Sunghoon, meet Lee Heeseung.”
Sunghoon almost physically feels the way his heart drops to the bottom of his stomach. Lee Heeseung is tall, with jet black hair styled to the side like a typical lawyer but God does he make it look good, and the way his eyes catch his new secretary’s figure makes the younger feel like he’s being a little… undressed. Lee Heeseung smiles at him then, offering a hand for him to shake, and Park Sunghoon takes note of the way something so simple has his mind so fuzzy. It’s unsettling, like someone’s twisting his insides anti-clockwise with a witch’s spoon, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop.
Eventually, Sunghoon does grab his new boss’ hand and offers the latter a smile of his own. It’s charming, he knows, like everything he does always is, and he hopes his new superior doesn’t notice the slight sweat as their skins meet for a brief moment.
“I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine, Sunghoon.”
Pleasure? Right. Yeah. Sure it is.
Park Sunghoon’s jittery attitude lasts for about a week, and the one thing the secretary hopes for is for his boss to attribute his weirdness to the fact that they’ve got a newly-formed workplace relationship and not because Lee Heeseung looks—and behaves, as the younger learns later on—like his exact type. Egoistical lawyer and all.
Park Sunghoon eventually learns how to bury his hopefully-not-that-obvious attraction as deep as possible within the first month, and everything goes as it should for a few years.
Until it doesn’t.
The Sagittarius snaps right back to reality when he feels a set of fingers on his waist, followed by a surprised whine that leaves his lips embarrassingly quickly. Sunghoon feels the way Heeseung freezes, stops absolutely dead in his tracks, before he feels the same fingers digging the slightest bit deeper into skin that’s never felt so sensitive before.
Using his free hand, Heeseung snaps his fingers once. “Eyes up here, Sunghoon.”
Again, Sunghoon does as he’s told, but things are different this time. This time, Heeseung’s tone is more commanding, and if Sunghoon’s brain isn’t playing any tricks on him, maybe even a little deeper. This time, Heeseung’s analytical gaze is accompanied by something else, some lilt of curiosity. This time, Heeseung’s lips don’t form a frown, rather curving upwards ever so slightly.
The Libra man leans forward, really leans until his breath’s hovering over the Sagittarius man’s ear. “Guess you couldn’t get rid of that little crush of yours, huh?”
Heeseung’s question comes off soft and cautious, like he’s still testing the waters, but it sets off a blaring alarm in the back of Sunghoon’s mind nonetheless. The accusation pierces through the December man’s chest and stings.
God. This is all Jaeyun’s fault.
“Excuse me?”
“What? You thought I didn’t notice?” Heeseung’s light scoff of disbelief reddens the tip of Sunghoon’s ear. “So this is the reason why you’ve been so pissy all week? You couldn’t stop thinking about your own boss?”
“Don’t—don’t make bullshit assumptions,” Sunghoon tries to argue, but his voice falters.
“Then tell me, Sunghoon,” Heeseung starts, locking Sunghoon’s gaze, “will you be able to focus once we get back to my office and pretend like nothing happened?” A deadly pause, then he continues, “Or will you act even weirder around me until somebody miraculously answers your prayers to switch bosses with Jaeyun?”
Lee Heeseung leans impossibly closer, fingers playing with the strands of Park Sunghoon’s hair, and teases, “Or, I could fuck you right here. Make all your little dreams come true, hm?”
Lee Heeseung’s ability in rendering Park Sunghoon speechless is really starting to piss the latter off—or at least it’s what his mind wants him to think. The warmth pooling at the bottom of his stomach is pushing for a different argument. And really, this suit’s getting a little too hot for him to keep on. And fuck, Sunghoon can really hear the sirens now. “Shut… shut up.”
With all thoughts of future consequences thrown out the window, the December-born man pulls his boss down by his tie and crashes their lips together. His hands move before he can truly think about it for another moment, and perhaps once this is all done, he’ll find a way to blame this turn of events to all the stress work has been putting him through.
Their kiss starts off completely uncoordinated and needy, with their limbs desperately moving, slightly stumbling for places to fit and touch, then Heeseung has Sunghoon sitting up on his old desk with the younger’s legs spread just enough to cage the older. Neither’s able to discern who starts or ends anything, who bites or tastes, who touches or feels; soon enough, their bodies sync, aiming for a rhythm to satisfy them both.
“We’ve… you’ve got a meeting. In fifteen,” Sunghoon manages to breathe out.
His boss’ question is unexpected, yet not exactly unwelcome. “You fine with rough?”
Well shit, if this isn’t the wet dream the secretary’s been having for fucking weeks. A shudder runs down his spine. “Yes.”
It’s all Heeseung needs to discard their suit jackets to the chair behind Sunghoon. Not wanting to have to deal with any more delays, the former’s hands move scarily quickly. He unbuckles their belts, twirls the latter around to push his chest against the desk, then pulls their pants down just enough for cold air to hit their skin right where they’re most sensitive.
Then, before anything else, Heeseung loosens his tie only to shove it inside Sunghoon’s mouth.
And Sunghoon? His response is beyond embarrassing, actually, because instead of something akin to a protest, he goddamn whines. Like he’s enjoying every single fucking step of the way. Like some sick fucking bastard. Like some random whore Heeseung picked off the streets. And he fucking loves it.
“I’ll stretch you out properly next time,” Heeseung mumbles, and Sunghoon’s mind offers him unintelligible thoughts. “Don’t be too loud. Wouldn’t want one of our associates to find you like this, now, would you?”
Park fucking Sunghoon, for the life of him, just can’t stop entertaining other people’s thoughts. So he allows his brain to conjure up an image of a random associate Heeseung probably doesn’t remember the name of staring straight at them, some rich douchebag who thinks he’ll make partner in no time solely off the fact that he’s a summa cum laude graduate from SNU, with eyes holding a mix of horror and arousal. The mere idea of someone else knowing how Sunghoon—ah, how Heeseung feels about his own fucking secretary ignites a flame comparable to the fire that consumed his insides just a few days earlier.
The turning point of this all: when Heeseung called him a good boy. How ridiculous.
As the December-born man lets his mind sway in euphoria, the October-born man behind him chuckles softly against his neck, licking a stripe up towards the back of his ear ever so slowly. Heeseung takes Sunghoon’s lobe into his mouth and kisses and bites and sucks gently. And it’s stupid how Sunghoon’s already so sensitive when Heeseung hasn’t done much at all, like his heartstrings are being toyed in the way a drummer would a guitar.
Vividly, his mind offers him snippets of nights when dream-Heeseung kissed and teased him like this, yet never getting to doing it fully. The Heeseung behind him now is meaner than the one in his wet dream, a lot more controlling, and Sunghoon doesn’t know if should be scared or turned on. As soon as the feeling of an unfamiliar length brushes against his bare entrance, his body decides on the latter.
Perhaps the sound of his pounding heart’s too loud, because before Sunghoon can entertain yet another unintelligible thought, Heeseung speaks, “Easy, baby. ‘M not gonna fuck you dry.”
Heeseung’s length stops teasing Sunghoon’s hole and the latter nearly cries out in protest. They’re so fucking close. As soon as he hears Heeseung spitting onto his own fingers, however, he swallows a breath he’s unaware he’s been holding.
The room is impossibly quiet, save for the small whimpers Sunghoon keeps making, and the spit adds on a disgusting layer as it gets played in between Heeseung’s fingers.
“Hur—”
Two long fingers force their way past the secretary’s bundle of nerves and he arches. Though he tries his hardest to hold it in, a muffled squeak manages to leave his stuffed mouth, and his hands make a rather loud sound against the table that has Heeseung cursing under his breath. The fingers continue their ministrations; pushing until their entire lengths are in, moving impatiently until Sunghoon’s cock leaks precum and coats the floor and part of the desk with it. Soon enough, Heeseung adds a third finger, but the extra digit merely spends a few seconds before all three are completely discarded.
Sunghoon doesn’t want to think about how red his own hole must be right now. Doesn’t want to think about how it must be desperately begging for something to fill it in. Doesn’t want to think about how pink the tip of his dick must be from all the teasing. He doesn’t want to think at all, fuck. One soft whisper is enough to have him reeling.
“Pretty,” Heeseung mutters as he closes the gap between his chest and his secretary’s back. “Have always wondered how you’d feel raw.”
The what that nearly leaves Sunghoon’s lips gets caught in his throat and tangles with a cry to produce the prettiest sound Heeseung’s ever heard the former make. Sunghoon is tight and warm and, with absolutely nothing separating Heeseung’s cock and Sunghoon’s hole, so goddamn delicious. The older man can feel the way the younger man’s entrance hopelessly tries to adjust, the way the veins on his own cock rub against heated insides, the way his secretary’s legs shake like they’re mere seconds from giving out; absolutely fucking delicious.
“Too—big—ah!”
Ah, but alas, Sunghoon’s scream is loud—too loud—so Heeseung does what he should: his hand reaches out and pulls Sunghoon’s hair until the younger’s whimpering slightly.
The Libra pulls his entire length out only to slam it inside the Sagittarius’ warmth in one go. The desk makes a squeaking sound, and Sunghoon’s body trembles. “Told you,” Heeseung says through gritted teeth as he repeats his harsh thrust, “not to be,” and another, “too loud,” a third, and it has Sunghoon’s arms shaking as he tries to hold on to the edges of the wood under him, “didn’t I?”
The boss doesn’t wait for a reply, instead continues thrusting into his secretary like his life’s work depended on it. Heeseung is mean, so goddamn mean, and Sunghoon can’t help the tears from welling up and dirtying his smooth skin. Lee Heeseung is so goddamn mean and rough and controlling and Park Sunghoon’s neglected cock feels it all before his brain gets the chance to fully process anything. Heeseung’s aim is absolute bullshit, in the worst-best way possible, that it has Sunghoon floating between reality and his dreams. His hips are angled oh so perfectly and he hits Sunghoon right fucking there like it’s not a big deal. Like finding Sunghoon’s prostate’s so goddamn easy.
Like this isn’t the best fuck Sunghoon’s ever had his whole life.
God, if someone had told fresh graduate Sunghoon he’d get railed by his own boss who he’s very much attracted to in the future, he would’ve laughed.
(Or perhaps he’d turn red in the face and end up picturing himself bent over a desk by each and every one of his superiors, before finally reaching Heeseung and his brain going, “He’s the one.” It’s always been easy for him to entertain his and everyone else’s ridiculous thoughts, after all.)
One deep thrust, then another, then one more, and Sunghoon gives up on counting. Fuck, he doesn’t even know how many minutes they’ve got left before the meeting—if they even have any. He’s supposed to know, he’s the goddamn secretary, yet he can’t even if he tries. Not when he’s got the entirety of Heeseung’s dick inside him.
The older man picks up his speed and skin meets skin a little too loudly. Heeseung must be losing himself in Sunghoon to have forgotten his own command, or maybe he’s doing this on purpose. A test of some sort for Sunghoon. That if he even dares to overpower the sound of their skins touching, he’ll get what’s coming to him. Heeseung’s fingers dig bruises into the younger man’s hips, yet all Sunghoon does in response is moan and wonder about all the possible ways his boss could ruin him outside of their current circumstances.
God, would Sunghoon absolutely love getting manhandled even worse.
A confident, sure staccato echoes through the old office. It’s a mix of soft mewls and low grunts, of hands gripping the desk and someone else’s hips, of Heeseung’s naked, big, veiny cock pistoning in and out of Sunghoon without mercy like he’s using his secretary only as a means to please himself. Like some kind of fleshlight, like some kind of glory hole—fuck. Did his hole just get a little wetter?
After a particularly sharp thrust, the head of Heeseung’s cock catching Sunghoon’s prostate perfectly, a set of shivers run down the latter’s spine and he squirms. His arms have given up on giving his upper body support. His fingers are completely red from gripping the edge of the desk too hard. He’s even started to lose feeling in both his legs. And his own cock between them, his stupid fucking cock, is about to goddamn burst and it’s embarrassing. It hasn’t been touched all night. Not even once.
“Fuck,” Heeseung curses. “You’re so fucking pretty.”
Sunghoon whips his head to the side at the compliment, severely pushing down the light tingle that’s made its presence known at the bottom of his stomach as he cranes his neck in a desperate search for Heeseung’s eyes, and the latter groans at the sight of the former’s half-lidded ones. The image is crazy: Sunghoon is in a daze, clearly so, and some of Heeseung’s tie’s leaking out of Sunghoon’s slightly opened mouth. Some of the younger’s saliva rolls down his jaw, and the simple fact of knowing he’s the reason behind his secretary looking like this at work makes his cock throb. And fuck, with the way Sunghoon shudders and his legs continuously make futile attempts at closing and stopping their friction, Heeseung knows Sunghoon can feel the way his cock pulses inside him. Like he’s fucking ready to—fuck.
“Come,” Sunghoon manages, though it comes out muffled. “I’m gonna come, Heeseung—haah—”
“Good boy.”
A final wave comes crashing down on Park Sunghoon, and it has him rolling his eyes as far back as possible as his legs completely give out. His neglected cock releases about a million strings of white in an instant; he coats the floor and every surface area of the desk within his dick’s reach, and his brain faintly registers how much of a pain cleaning everything up will be. A few more rough and precise movements and oversensitive whimpers later, and Heeseung’s groaning right into Sunghoon’s ear as he buries himself impossibly deep inside his secretary’s tight heat and empties out his load in slow yet meaningful thrusts. The younger man feels, God, he feels the way the older man’s cum warms and fills him to the absolute brim, and it’s fucking ridiculous because it’s neverending. Like Heeseung’s making sure everyone’s going to know who Sunghoon belongs to after this. Fuck, it feels like he’s being fucking bred.
It’s like he’s on cloud fucking nine.
Eventually, once his boss finishes riding out his high, Heeseung stills for a moment, allowing the both of them to catch their breaths. Sunghoon finally spits out the tie that’s been in his mouth for way too long and groans. His throat feels scratchy.
“Ngh—stop,” Sunghoon pleads weakly when Heeseung starts his shallow thrusts again, his speech a little slurred. “Meeting. Now.”
Heeseung makes a mere hum of acknowledgement before slowly pulling his cock out of Sunghoon’s red and abused hole. Almost immediately, a thick line of cum drips out onto the floor, and the older man curses at the sight. God, his secretary’s so fucking sexy.
“Should’ve brought a phone,” the boss mutters under his breath, but it’s not too quiet to go unheard. Perhaps even done on purpose.
What kind of effect do I have on him, exactly?
“I can’t go out like this,” the secretary complains, cheeks red as shit trying to erase those cursed whispered words from his mind. The boss moves to rewearing the articles of clothing he took off. “And—and your cum—”
“I have a better idea,” Heeseung mutters, and he truly is too tired to start an argument, so he nods. Watches the way his boss takes hold of his ruined tie only to crumple it into a neater ball shape and shove it inside his gaping hole entirely. Once Heeseung’s sure his tie’s tight enough to serve as a makeshift butt plug, he smirks and places a light kiss just a few fingers away from Sunghoon’s heat.
The action quite literally stuns Sunghoon and brings red right to his face and ears. One heartbeat and a missed coherent sentence later, Heeseung’s already straightening out the creases on his shirt as he’s walking towards the door. “Make sure you clean this office up before you go. I’m already late. I’ll see you after my meeting.”
“Are you fucking serious?” My ass is literally on display still?
Instead of answering, Heeseung continues, “Don’t lose the tie. I’ll check.”
One of these days, truly, Park Sunghoon is going to kill every single one of this company’s lawyers. Lee Heeseung’s at the top of his goddamn list.
(Well, he’ll get to his plan soon enough, once he figures out how to survive the rest of today. He just hopes the client won’t notice Heeseung’s missing tie—he always wears a goddamn tie—and neither of them smell too much of sex. God, he hopes Heeseung at least has the decency to walk back to his office and spray some perfume on himself before going to that meeting.
Ah, and Sim Jaeyun—perhaps he was on to something, though Park Sunghoon would rather die than admit his inability to beat the secretary-gets-fucked-by-boss allegations.)