Work Text:
Gallagher had no idea how he ended up in this state.
All he wanted was to talk to the Oak Family head about some business; however, a snide remark about certain rumors led him to this unusual position, with no one to blame but himself.
His knees pressed into the cold floor, his body warmth seeping away and leaving him colder by the moment, he’d been dragged into this like a dog on a leash—a leash no longer in his own hands.
“Do you like it better now?”
The Oak Family head spoke in a neutral tone, as if simply repaying Gallagher for his previous comment, though his expression was carefully controlled to avoid revealing any effect it might have had. Sitting in front of him, legs crossed and back leaning on the chair’s backrest, Sunday looked down with golden eyes so sharp Gallagher could almost feel them penetrating him, his gaze inching along every part of Gallagher’s clothed body—belittling, humiliating.
Gallagher could feel traces of a lingering headache, his mind clearly recalling the colourful halo that appeared when Sunday mentioned his God's name with little regret. He took a deep breath, but it caught in his throat as he saw Sunday lean forward, spreading his legs and resting each arm on a knee. He felt a soft, slightly cold hand seize his chin, as a voice, just as condescending as the gaze, repeated, “Do you like it?”
Gallagher muttered a “yes” as he swallowed, his gaze drifting downward from Sunday’s face to his neatly worn shirt, the clean, buttoned vest, the small, shiny gold accessory adorning its edge, and finally, to the tight-fitting gray pants he couldn’t take his eyes off. Lightheaded, Gallagher barely noticed when Sunday released his jaw and patted his own left thigh, signaling for him to come closer.
Gallagher shifted closer to Sunday, placing a hand on his thigh for support, giving it a light squeeze along the way, before finally resting his head on it as Sunday leaned back once more.
He could feel the leather of Sunday’s thigh harness caressing his cheek, its surface smooth against his skin, its temperature warmed by the heat it had soaked from Sunday’s body.
And as if feeling like he was too compliant, something compelled him to say, "Do you think just by spreading your legs like this," he gave another gentle squeeze to Sunday's thigh, "everyone's just gonna come and suck this pretty little cock of yours or something?"
Not caring about the challenging look Gallagher chose to end his sentence with, Sunday smiled. He brought a hand to caress Gallagher's cheek, trailing his fingers across his lips before lowering it to his neck and pushing him back. Gallagher wondered if he was going to lose all the air in his lungs. Yet instead, Sunday continued lower, gripping his loose necktie.
And then he felt it tighten as he watched Sunday wrap the necktie around his hand just once. Gallagher was uncertain where this was going before Sunday lifted his right leg slightly and began, "Well, if you don't..." He guided the necktie slowly across his own leg, bringing it under before letting it go and pulling it from the other side, wrapping it securely around his thigh. "Then I suppose I will have to find another hole to put it into."
Feigning a troubled expression, Sunday lowered his leg, and Gallagher was forcibly dragged closer by his necktie. As if that weren't enough, Sunday's leg also found its way between Gallagher's, pressing the sole of his shoe underneath him as if proving a point, making him feel almost threatened.
This insane freak!
Gallagher couldn't even stay more than a few centimeters away from his crotch anymore.
"Get to work," Sunday demanded. Gallagher raised a hand to help him do the "work", but Sunday slapped it away, catching Gallagher off guard and prompting an involuntary "ah" to escape his lips.
"use your mouth only," Gallagher received an instruction.
Gallagher had never really liked to be an obedient dog. He was always untamed, never disciplined. He leaned in with difficulty until he felt the fabric of Sunday's vest brushing against his nose, letting his tongue dart out to the small button holding the waist of Sunday's pants. He licked the smooth, round little button, then took it into his mouth, and in one motion... He bit down and tore it off.
Sunday landed a hard slap on his cheek.
Cheek slightly reddened and tingling, still holding the button inside, Gallagher felt tightening on his neck, probably because of his head being pushed back further than Sunday's liking from the impact of the slap. He looked at Sunday above him and smiled at his expression of disdain.
"Ahh," Gallagher slid his tongue out, showing Sunday the button that rested on top of it, earning himself another, lighter slap that made the button fall from his mouth this time.
"You uncivilised mutt," Sunday pushed out through gritted teeth, grabbing Gallagher's jaw, "all I asked for is submission, and yet you could not do as little as that!"
Gallagher avoided looking straight into his eyes.
Normally, Sunday wasn't much of the assertive type. He'd try to keep everyone in complete harmony, and would avoid conflict as much as possible. But that doesn't mean Gallagher hadn't thought of him being like this before.
Honestly, it was only a small fantasy of Gallagher. One where Sunday turns out to be some insane guy, some control freak. One where Gallagher would look straight into those golden eyes, only to find them looking down on him, filled with disgust.
And seeing them, Gallagher would feel uncomparably thrilled.
Sunday tightened the loop Gallagher's tie made around his thigh furthermore, not wanting Gallagher to be able to even look up at him anymore.
Gallagher bared his teeth, continuing the work he had formerly messed up on purpose. His cheeks still stinging a bit, he pulled down the zipper of the pants, then took the fabric between his teeth, pulling it down as well. Sunday's cock sprung up from under the cloth.
Gallagher wanted to look up to see Sunday's face so bad, but he was far too restricted for that. He could only hope that when he would have started to pleasure Sunday that he would loosen his grip a little.
And pleasuring him was not that much of a hard task.
Gallagher took his cock into his mouth rather easily, making Sunday struggle to keep his breathing in check. He could hear him panting slightly every time he'd swallow around him, he could feel his trembling fingers slightly entangling in his hair. He could feel each and every shift of his legs against his own body that practically caged them against the chair, and every now and then, he could feel those legs getting spread just a little bit wider.
Sunday seemed to be enjoying it so much that he forgot to keep the tie in check.
Pretending to be engrossed in his job, Gallagher moved as back as he could without losing what was on his tongue, trying to catch a glimpse of Sunday's face.
And a glimpse he caught. A mere glimpse that will probably haunt him for days to come.
The lower half of Sunday's face was covered by a wing, which failed to hide a creeping blush rising to his cheeks. The other wing was flapping lazily on his shoulder, swaying his dangling earring with it. His mouth was slightly open judging by the pants he let out, but his eyes were still piercing.
As if he could never let his guard down in front of a lowly, good-for-nothing guard dog. As if he was still making sure that his hound wouldn't stray even after he could no longer hold the leash properly.
And as he noticed the glance Gallagher shot towards him, he shoved his head down roughly, thrusting his hips once into his throat, then shifted his foot ever so slightly, pressing down under Gallagher's already hard cock.
And that's all that Gallagher had needed to come in his pants like a goddamn loser.