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It’s a perfectly normal day reporting in for their latest briefing with DS, the pair of them walking confidently side by side down the maze of hallways. Kim thankfully waits until after the meeting before making his move: they’re two corridors away from the exit when he suddenly takes hold of Will’s wrist and tugs him sideways through an open door. It’s a file room of some sort, with rows of bookshelves filled with leather-bound ledgers and cartons of folders.
Kim shoves Will down one of the aisles and back against the shelves, and it’s so reminiscent of their adventures in Will’s shop once he closes for the day that for a moment, Will forgets where they are. His shop is risky but in a very manageable way: Will can inspect the aisles for any quiet, forgotten customers, lock the door, close the blinds. It’s so familiar and so much his that it feels like the privacy of home. It basically is his home, really.
“We’re at the office,” he reminds Kim in a hiss, as if Kim had spied the bookshelves and also forgotten they weren’t at home.
“I know,” Kim replies, grinning. He sinks to his knees and begins working open Will’s trousers, and the light falling across his face in such a stark, angular way reminds Will once again that they’re in a room with an open door on a busy hallway.
He slaps his hand over his own mouth as a reminder more than anything else—do not moan aloud—while Kim takes Will’s cock into his own mouth with a satisfied sort of sigh.
The sound of someone’s footsteps clicking sharply down the hall distracts Will enough that after a moment, Kim pulls off and looks up at him expectantly. He clears his throat.
“I don’t know what has gotten into you,” Will mutters, but he takes the hint and forces himself to relax, and as Kim sinks down on his cock again, Will lets both hands drop to the sides of Kim’s head, to push his fingers into the thick, dark hair behind his ears.
It always feels clean and silky and luscious, and Will luxuriates in petting him for a few seconds before giving Kim what he’s after and clenching both hands tightly. He’s satisfied enough with Kim’s pace at the moment that he doesn’t force it, but the threat is there, and Kim shudders under him at the realization.
Kim doesn’t pick up the pace when Will expects him to, though. He’s languid and sloppy and wet, and slow, all the things they cannot be when they’re barely hidden down an aisle of shelves where anyone could walk in at any moment, looking to file their report in the carton right by Will’s head. It makes him paranoid, in fact, and Will glances sideways at the labels on the shelves. It’s alphabetical; they’re in the section for J-M, right in the middle of the alphabet. Are those letters more common than any others? Will has no idea.
“Enough of this,” he mutters, and pushes Kim back. Before Kim can protest, though, he drags Kim around and crowds him backward against the shelf, so he’s the one pinned and Will is the one with a sightline toward the entryway.
He shoves his cock back in Kim’s mouth and uses his grip on Kim’s hair to set a much quicker pace, and without room to back away, Kim is forced to take it. It makes him melt against the shelves, sinking lower on his knees, and his lips are lax while his throat is exquisitely tight. Will grabs the shelf in front of him just to stay upright.
“Are you touching yourself?” he asks breathlessly. “I don’t think you deserve it, ambushing me here, like you just couldn’t fucking wait to get my prick in you. Put your hands on me. I don’t want you coming until I can touch you myself.”
An image of Kim walking home with him with a wet stain on the front of his clothes is more worrying than intriguing at this particular moment, but it does make Will’s stomach tighten pleasantly. He files it away for later and lays his hands over Kim’s where they rest on his hips.
He’s close now, and Kim’s fingernails digging into the fleshy parts of his hips tinges the pleasure with just a hint of pain, and Will flings his hand up to bite the side of his fist as he climaxes to keep from releasing the shout that’s been building up inside him. Kim swallows it all eagerly, surging up on his knees to take Will in as deep as he can, so that his throat convulses around him, dragging out Will’s release. Kim’s nose is pressed to the thatch of hair at the base of Will’s cock and his cheeks are wet with the sort of tears that Kim has assured him, many times, are not because he’s hurting, and Will thinks he’s incredibly messy and incredibly beautiful.
Will backs off as the sensation ebbs and gazes down at him, at the shadows hiding all but the sharp, high angles of his cheekbones. He swipes his thumbs under Kim’s eyes to wipe away the wetness. There’s not much he can do to ease the redness around Kim’s mouth. He looks absolutely well fucked.
“We’d better go home,” Kim tells him roughly. His eyes flick toward the head of the aisle and Will is again forcibly reminded that they’re not currently at home, and that the door to this room is open.
“What is wrong with you?” he asks, groaning as he helps Kim to his feet.
“You can’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” Kim replies. He takes over redressing Will, tucking his shirt in with efficient little jabs of his fingers. He coughs wetly and then seems to give up trying to sound unaffected. “Shall we? I believe you had plans for me.”
“Christ, do I,” Will says with a roll of his eyes, but he can’t resist a smile as he takes Kim’s arm and leads him toward the exit.
fin.