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It has been two years since Arthur Kirkland was hired as Alfred’s assistant and Alfred might have started to enjoy messing with him a little too much. It wasn't to be mean or anything, Alfred isn't that bad; Arthur was just an uptight bastard and had somehow become a bit of a grouchy old man at the ripe age of twenty-five and all these things just made him so easy to tease. Arthur was touchy about everything, his eyebrows, Alfred commenting on said eyebrows, his hair, Alfred patting said hair, even Alfred’s totally innocent habit of bringing burgers into the office for lunch (it wasn't like he didn't wipe up the grease spots left behind, jeez)… the list was endless. 

It might have been childish of Alfred to sometimes go out of his way to provoke a response but well, Arthur was sorta-maybe-hella cute when he was mad and the way his cheeks turned red whenever Alfred poked at him (verbally, that is, while standing way out of smacking range) was adorable. Ask anyone. Well, maybe not Francis from marketing but he was French, he didn't count. He was outnumbered by all the sensible people with good taste and anyway Alfred had caught him sneakily checking out Arthur’s butt once when their favourite Brit was bending over to pick up some papers he’d dropped. 

Alfred’s never exactly been sure what was going on between those two - fuck buddies? Former fuck buddies? Some frenemies thing? Wait, doesn't Francis have a boyfriend? - but they fought often enough that any sane boss would have put the bickering pair of them as far away from each other as possible. Alfred could have done that, sure, but that would've been lame. What was the fun in it? He did so like drama and besides, Arthur was honestly hilarious when he was tearing someone to teeny-tiny metaphorical shreds and also really cute when he was stomping back to his desk and muttering furiously under his breath about how stupid fucking frogs can go shove a bloody stick up -

So maaaybe he puts Arthur with Francis on days when they're splitting everyone up for training courses or team bonding or whatever. Arthur sees all the stuff that’s been on Alfred’s desk, he knows what Alfred’s doing and the murderous rage in his green eyes when he gets the name lists with F. Bonnefey and A. Kirkland and A. F. Jones all in the same group is always a sight to behold. (What, you think Alfred’s gonna sit out stuff like that? Well, he could, technically, since he’s in charge but again, what’s the fun in that? You've gotta get in on the action sometimes.) 

It never gets old. Arthur’s scarily efficient and really, really good at what he does but he could have been the worst PA ever (and in some ways, he was since Alfred’s pretty sure you're not supposed to yell at your boss and continuously insult his drink preferences or fistfight your coworkers in the corridors) and Alfred would have been tempted to keep him on anyway just because he was a lot of fun to be around.

That was before though. Nowadays, Alfred likes to tease Arthur in a slightly different way. 


“And you have that meeting with Carriedo at - ah, a-after lunch. I already had one of the conference rooms prepared…” 

Arthur’s hands are shaking a little. Alfred doubts it’s noticeable to anyone else, same with the slightly glazed look in Arthur’s eyes or the way he fidgets and shifts about restlessly when normally he’d be standing ramrod straight and almost perfectly still. He's holding out pretty well for someone who falls to pieces with nothing but Alfred’s fingers inside him but the vibrator’s been in since this morning and Alfred’s been playing with the settings just about constantly, relishing every hushed gasp from Arthur’s workspace outside, hearing his chair creak and imagining the way that Arthur’s probably crossing and uncrossing his legs and rubbing his thighs together unconsciously.

Alfred turns it up again, just a little, and Arthur sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes briefly. He swallows hard and Alfred props his chin on his palm, watching with gentle fascination the way Arthur’s throat bobs, the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other and steadfastly refuses to look up from his tablet. 

Arthur clears his throat and goes on, “N-now I know you fancy yourself as a linguist but do try not to embarrass us both with your horrible Spanish-”

Alfred sticks his tongue out in response, not at all offended. You couldn't take half the things Arthur said at face value, usually, (not if you wanted to have some self-esteem left because Arthur was mean) and besides, he’d heard the tiny stutter in that smooth baritone when Arthur was talking and that felt like victory enough. Besides, he can make Arthur pay for the little jab easily enough and does, by fiddling with the remote again, turning it up, up, up as Arthur’s voice gets more and more strained until he stops talking entirely, flushed pink to his ears and breathing a little raggedly. 

“Yeah?” Alfred prompts him innocently, just barely holding back a smirk. “You were saying, Artie?”

“For the last time, it’s Arthur,” says his gorgeous, adorable assistant, who’s now almost swaying on his feet and gripping his tablet hard enough to break it. There's no heat in it at all though and Arthur had taken almost a full minute to reply. There was a clock on the wall, Alfred had counted. “And I… I was…” 

“Something about Carriedo’s husband, I think,” Alfred puts in helpfully. “I've met them before, y’ know, no need to go over it again.”

Arthur nods, once, jerkily. There's a shiny little spot on his bottom lip, almost a bruise, that must have been worried into existence sometime after Alfred had kissed him goodbye at the door this morning because Arthur liked to get to the office ridiculously early, nevermind that Alfred had a pretty flexible policy on working hours and could probably be convinced to let Arthur get away with murder if it meant he got to kiss the soft pink lips he just couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from. He almost wants to turn up the setting on the vibrator again, because Arthur’s clearly struggling for composure now and looks very much like he's about two minutes and a bit more pressure on his prostate away from breaking down and pleading to be fucked senseless in Alfred's office in the middle of the day. 

Now that’s a thought. They've been pretty careful so far because Alfred’s position in the company is just about ironclad by now but he knows Arthur’s isn't and his father could still make things pretty hard if the old man ever did find out he was fucking his assistant. So they keep things discreet, making sure to arrive to and leave separately from work every day, keep the lovebites to under the collar, stuff like that. But Arthur had been in the mood for a risk and Alfred would have agreed to anything the man wanted if he would just keep doing that, fuck yeah-

And well, now Alfred’s all caught up in it too because Arthur’s beautiful when he's all hot and bothered and trying to hide it. It’s a game, he thinks, one that Arthur’s losing but is he really when Alfred’s mouth is dry and he’s already half-hard in his pants just from looking at the pretty blush on Arthur’s face and having the knowledge of just what had put it there. 

“I think,” Alfred says softly, getting up from behind his desk. “You really should sit down, Arthur. You're looking awfully flushed. Not getting sick, are you?” He leaves a hand in his pocket, turning down the vibrator so Arthur isn't too distracted to talk and savours the shaky breath that his assistant has to take in before answering.

“I-I’m feeling quite all right, thank you, Mr Jones.” 

Arthur doesn't look at him but god, he had to know the effect he had on Alfred with the faux shyness, that breathlessly proper Mr Jones in his accent. He was wearing one of his more fitted suits today, even, the little tease, and paired it with the dark green tie that brought out those pretty eyes of his. He doesn't move when Alfred slips past him and goes to lock the door, just stands there with his head tilted down to his tablet like he's actually reading off it until Alfred comes back and gently herds Arthur over to his desk. 

Not to the chairs left out in front though, no. He steers Arthur around to his side of the desk, plopping down in his seat and then grinning up at his flustered assistant who can't quite manage his usual annoyed look or coolly precise tone as he says, “Alf- Mr Jones, we’re in the office. If you think I’m going to sit on your lap-”

He cuts off with a gasp when Alfred tsks and turns the toy stuffed up his ass to nearly full power, just to make a point and also because he’d wanted to see Arthur stagger and reach out to steady himself on the desk. “Y-you… Mr Jones, that- that isn't...

“Sure you're feeling okay, Arthur?” Alfred just about chirps, not at all fazed by the look Arthur gives him. It’s probably meant to be stern but really, really isn't with his face so damned red and that I want your cock in me this instant, Alfred look in his eyes. “C’mon, sweetheart, just relax for a second.” 

“I told you, n-no pet names in- ah !” Arthur yelps adorably, flailing, as Alfred gets tired of waiting and just shoves him face-first onto the desk and pins him there firmly with a hand on the small of his back. “A-Alfred-!”

Relax,” Alfred tells him, inwardly pleased by the lapse, eyes sliding down the length of Arthur’s spine to the delectable curve of his ass. He pushes a knee between Arthur’s, keeping his legs spread even when Arthur curses and tries to close them. He's sputtering, struggling and saying things like ‘Alfred, this is hardly the place’ and ‘stop that this instant’ like he isn't hard and ready and wanting, gasping when Alfred slips a hand between his thighs and kneads firmly at the bulge he finds there. 

“A-ah, don't- ngh… ” Arthur’s almost moaning now, panting and squirming as Alfred cups his ass with his other hand and gives it a good, hard squeeze before venturing towards even more sensitive territory. “Oh god, n-not there…” 

Arthur’s not struggling anymore. He’d dropped his tablet somewhere (it was probably fine, Alfred hadn't heard anything shatter) and was clinging to the desk with white knuckles as Alfred trails a finger down the seam of his pants. The back of it, that is, which is like a nice little divider between his asscheeks that Alfred can follow until his finger bumps into the base of the vibrator and Arthur makes this sharp, strangled sound, his hips jerking. 

Alfred traces the shape of it through the fabric, smirking a little as the added pressure makes the toy sink a little deeper and Arthur moans again, half-closing his eyes before burying his face in his forearm. He’s pretty like this too, practically splayed out over Alfred’s desk and trembling, letting Alfred play with him like this, rocking the vibrator in and out and in, all without even taking his pants off yet. That almost made it hotter, even, the way he's got Arthur fully dressed and moaning for him, rubbing against his hands like he's begging for more. 

“You like that, sweetheart?” Alfred croons. At this setting, in this position, the vibrator is clearly audible, humming away inside Arthur and judging from the sounds he’s making, in the perfect position to stimulate his prostate. It isn't visible when Arthur’s standing up, of course, nestled neatly between his cheeks as it is, but like this, with Arthur bent over and his legs spread, Alfred can clearly see the outline of the thick base through his pants. He presses down on it just a little more roughly, massaging Arthur’s straining cock with his other hand at the same time and Arthur just about mewls in pleasure, muffling his little noises in his sleeve. 

“Your legs are trembling,” Alfred observes smugly. “Does it feel that good?”

“M-hmm… Alfred... ” 

God, the way Arthur squirms for him is a tease in itself, the way his back arches and his hips move as if inviting Alfred to reach over and touch - Arthur moans at it, the stroke of Alfred’s fingers over the swell of his ass, lingering for a moment, then dipping lower to probe between his thighs. “Alfred, please, I-I’m going to come -” 

He jolts and makes an absolutely delicious sound when Alfred abruptly stops stroking his cock through his pants and smacks him sharply on his upturned ass instead, hard. “A-ah!”

“Don't you dare,” Alfred tells him but softens the rebuke with a light caress over the spot he’d just hit. “You don't get to come, sweetheart. Not here, not now, not till I can take you back to my apartment and fuck you into the goddamn mattress.”

He punctuates each word with a squeeze of Arthur’s perfect ass, groping him shamelessly and making him moan. Then he lets go and shifts his chair back. “Now, get up and turn around.”

It takes Arthur a second to obey but oh, the look on his face when he turns… so flushed and red and embarrassed and evidently aroused that Alfred could have eaten him up on the spot. The erection that had been neatly tucked away when he’d first come in is now straining against his perfectly pressed slacks and he’s on just the right side of deliciously rumpled that it’d be almost a shame to ruin it, either by tiding him up or messing him up even more. 

Alfred hasn't quite decided which he wants yet but that doesn't stop him from tapping Arthur’s belt lightly, smirking at Arthur’s little intake of breath, the way his hands fumble for and then clench around the edge of the desk. “Unbuckle this and unzip your pants.”

“What, making sure I’m still wearing it?” Arthur snipes back, just a little breathlessly, even as he does, pushing down his pants and boxers until Alfred finally gets to see his pretty, pretty cock and the pale blue silicone ring wrapped around the base.

It’s vibrating too because Alfred did quite like to torture Arthur sometimes. There's only one setting on the cock ring though, since he doesn't exactly want Arthur coming in his pants before the day’s out. Arthur would never have forgiven him if anyone else had seen it and besides, the whole point of all this was to rile him up for tonight, having him needy and aching and so desperate to be fucked by the time they get home that Alfred can really make him beg for it. 

Alfred hums at the thought ( Arthur on his knees, mouth half-open and tears in his eyes, pleading for more), reaching out to rest a hand on Arthur’s thigh. He traces the ring with the pad of one finger almost lazily, feeling the clench of muscles under his palm and watching the way Arthur’s cock twitches, the precome beading at the tip. “Not too tight, is it?”

A silent shake of the scruffy blond head above him. Alfred glances up, just a little curious to know if Arthur’s looking at the hand by his cock or if those pretty green eyes are closed. Neither, as it turns out; Arthur’s staring off at some point above Alfred’s head, eyes vaguely unfocused as he pants quietly and clings to the table like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. They slip shut and Arthur moans softly as Alfred wraps a hand around his cock and pumps it, once, twice, almost gliding over the sensitive flesh with all the pre-come slicking up the way. 

“Alfred,” he says, after a few minutes of this, almost a sigh. “L-love, stop, I won't be able to - to… mmh, fuck.”

Arthur shudders convulsively, his breath hitching nicely as Alfred rubs his thumb over the cockhead, teasing the slit, testing the limits of Arthur’s control because his lover’s looking half-undone already and it’s so fucking tempting to just push him down and fuck him senseless right here. Arthur wouldn't protest it, he knows, with the way he’s panting and rocking his hips up into the hand on his cock. Alfred runs his other hand up Arthur’s thigh, fingers skimming along the inner curve of it, feeling the erratic twitch and quiver of muscles under his palm as he touches and strokes and brings Arthur tantalisingly close to an orgasm he wouldn't be allowed to have. “God, you're gorgeous like this, sweetheart. How much do you wanna come, hmm? Enough to beg me to let you?”

“You damned cocky brat… ohh-

Arthur pays for that too, with a gasp and a low moan as Alfred gets out the remote for the vibrator again and jabs a few buttons at random. Whatever mode he’d just set the toy to makes Arthur shudder as if cold, then melt, his head falling back and jaw slackening. Alfred tugs him forward again with a hand twisted around his tie, dragging him down for a harsh kiss, biting at his lip and pushing into his lax mouth and feeling one of Arthur’s hands come up to tangle into his hair. 

They're both panting by the time Alfred draws back; not far, staying close enough that their breaths mingle and Arthur’s nose bumps into his when he cranes forward with a whine as if chasing after the kiss. 

“Later,” Alfred murmurs against his lips, rubbing a thumb over his cock and savouring the soft, broken noise Arthur makes at the light touch. He pulls on Arthur’s tie again, on his collar, coaxing, “On your knees now, sweetheart… yeah, just like that.” 

Arthur goes without a fight, seduced into compliance by the hand on his cock, the vibrators inside and wrapped around the length of him, sinking to his knees between Alfred’s legs and looking so damned good there that Alfred can't help drawing him forward until… 

Arthur gets the message pretty fast. As Alfred presses his face gently to the unmistakable bulge in his pants, those green eyes flutter shut and then Arthur’s mouth opens and Alfred has to bite his own lip to hold back a moan as Arthur nuzzles his clothed cock and starts to - oh god.

“So eager,” Alfred breathes, feeling Arthur mouth at him, so soft and warm and inviting even through layers of fabric that it sends shudders up his spine. “Fuck, at least let me get my pants down-”

Arthur manages a faint laugh at that, propping his chin on Alfred’s knee and watching with heavily-lidded eyes as Alfred fumbles with his own belt and finally gets everything open and unzipped so Arthur can lean in again, lips parting, and take the very head into his hot little mouth. Mm, fuck. Alfred moans and has to fight to keep from writhing as Arthur bobs his head and starts to suck him off in earnest, pulling out all the little tricks in his repertoire that he knows drive Alfred mad; swirling his tongue over the tip and paying special attention to the slit, giving him just the barest hint of teeth. “God, you fucking tease,” Alfred grits out at the last one, shivering at the exquisite flicker of pain as sharp teeth just barely scrape over him and Arthur gives him this look through his lashes, all smug and taunting and so fucking pleased with himself that there's really only one thing for Alfred to do now. 

He nudges a foot between Arthur’s spread thighs, not at all surprised to find him touching himself and Arthur lets out this little noise that’s equal parts shock and arousal all at once as Alfred kicks off his shoe and then drags his socked foot over the shaft of Arthur’s cock, grinding down hard enough that Arthur arches back with a moan. Alfred catches him before his mouth can slip off his cock though, tangling a hand in his hair and dragging him back down. 

“Ah-ah, sweetheart, you’re not getting off so easy.” Alfred presses down harder, feels the twitch and flex of Arthur’s cock against the sole of his foot as Arthur makes more of his desperate noises. “And did I say- ” he snaps his hips up, suddenly enough that he feels the head of his cock hit the back of Arthur’s throat, “-that you could touch yourself?”

He gives another rough thrust but disentangles himself when Arthur starts to cough, cheeks flushed red and eyes wet and those wayward hands of his curling guiltily into the fabric of Alfred’s pants. 


Alfred shushes him, smoothing his hair back. “I haven't quite decided yet, you know,” he says lightly, almost conversationally, cradling Arthur’s cheek and tilting his head up. “Whether I want to come down your throat or on your pretty face or just shove you down and pull your pants off, take that toy out and fill you up so fucking good that you're dripping with my come and so fucking wet that you wouldn't be able to take a step without some leaking out.”

He can see the second that the words register; Arthur takes in a stuttering breath, eyes going wide and his throat working as he swallows. “Bet you’d like it if I fucked you, right, honey? Forced you to your hands and knees and just pounded you into the ground, shit, you’d probably come without me even touching you.” 

He shifts his foot a little, rocking it back and forth, and Arthur moans low in his throat and doesn't protest as Alfred guides his cock back into that wet mouth. “Yeah, you like the sound of that? I’d put the vibrator back in afterwards, you know, make you go around with my come inside you and that toy plugging you up. Won't let you come either, you greedy thing, you’d be stuck at your desk all fucking day with that hard-on, knowing what I’m gonna do to you the second we get home.”

Alfred’s toes brush the vibrating cock ring and he nudges lightly at it since he’d tossed the remote for the other one on the desk and can't exactly reach it now without dislodging Arthur and his extremely talented mouth. And god, that mouth. Alfred can't count how many times Arthur has taken him apart with it, with teeth and tongue and searing breath, soft lips wrapped tight around him and driving him to distraction. It’s a struggle to keep talking with the way Arthur’s working on him, sucking so hard that his cheeks hollow and christ, the sounds he made…  

Alfred curls a hand around the nape of Arthur’s neck, watching the flutter of Arthur’s lashes and the arch of his back, half-moaning his next words. “Mmh, fuck, I-I’d ruin you, sweetheart. You won't be able to walk by the time I’m through with you… gonna leave you a fucking mess spread out in my bed, tangled up in the sheets and… and- oh god-”

Alfred just barely has the presence of mind to slap a hand over his mouth as he climaxes, Arthur’s name on his lips and Arthur’s mouth on his cock, swallowing him down as he tenses up and spills out of himself with a helpless moan. 

Arthur doesn't stop there; he keeps sucking, laving his tongue over too-sensitive flesh, for a beat or two after it becomes uncomfortable and Alfred’s squirming in his seat, tugging weakly at tousled blond hair and gasping at the stimulation. 

Then his mouth slips off with a wet sound and Arthur sits back, breathing heavily through his nose, teeth sinking into his swollen lip as he peers up at Alfred with wet, hazy eyes, looking so fucking good that Alfred can't resist leaning down and dragging that filthy mouth into a kiss, tasting himself on Arthur’s tongue. Arthur sighs into it, pressing himself into Alfred’s hands, his mouth. He’s still hard, still aching and needy and wanting even as Alfred feels sated and lazy and like he could have sat here and kissed Arthur forever. He takes his foot away, slipping it back in his shoe, heedless of the precome probably smeared on it, and half-smiling at the little whine of protest that slips from Arthur’s lips.

“Shush, honey, relax, I’ll make it up to you later, yeah?” He kisses Arthur’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his temples, soft and light and soothing, until he feels Arthur sigh and go limp against him in acquiescence. 

‘Christ, you’re horrible’ comes the grudging, half-slurred mumble and Alfred laughs before tugging Arthur upright and kissing him on the mouth again, sliding off the chair so he can settle on the floor and help tuck Arthur’s very prominent erection away. And well, maybe he gets a little too handsy for someone who’s supposed to be helping Arthur wind down so he can go back outside without looking just short of well-fucked but what can he say? Arthur’s irresistible like this, so hard it had to hurt and so, so aware that he's going to have to hold out till the end of the day to get some relief. There's frantic need and desperation on his lips as they kiss and Alfred teases him with barely-there touches all over before pulling away to straighten their clothes and playfully order Arthur out of his office. 

“Evil little bastard,” Arthur mumbles as he goes, fixing his tie with unsteady hands, and Alfred swats him lightly on the butt and shuts the door behind him. 

He wonders if Arthur would ask to go home early today.