Chapter Text
Barbara had almost dozed off by the time she felt Beetlejuice’s hand come to rest in her hair. She’d been kneeling at his desk for almost two hours now, the white noise of Beetlejuice’s keys clacking as he typed relaxing her.
“You sleepy, kitten?” Beetlejuice asks, his hand moving from her hair to tilt her chin up towards him.
Barbara shakes her head quickly. “Just relaxed, sir,” she says.
Beetlejuice motions her to sit in his lap, an arm wrapped around her waist and a hand splayed over her naked thigh. “You feel more comfortable in my office now?” he asks. It’s genuine; she’d been mortified the first time he had paraded her through the lobby and back to his cushy corner office.
“Yes, sir,” she says. She shivers, curling more into his warm chest. She hadn’t been allowed to wear anything except the piece of silver around her neck and a pair of his favorite black thigh highs today. He kept the office warm for her, but it was nothing compared to the heat he was giving off.
Beetlejuice moves a hand to curl into her hair, bringing her forward into a rough kiss. She complies, letting him lick into her mouth. Eventually, he releases her from the kiss but tightens the hold in her hair. “Well,” he purrs, “I’m sure we can put that comfort to good use.”
He grabs her around the waist gently, directing her to stand in between him and the desk. He shucks off his pants, kicking them away to leave him in just a pair of plain black briefs. Beetlejuice grabs at her again, shoving his thigh in between her legs and pushing her down to sit on it. She can feel her face grow hot -- this is new.
“Now, pet,” he says, “I’m gonna warm you up a little bit, then you’re gonna give Daddy a show and ride my thigh. How does that sound?”
Barbara nods. “Good.”
He frowns and yanks at her hair, not too harshly but still drawing a whimper from her. “Sir,” she corrects herself. “Good, sir.”
His face transforms back into his lazy grin, leaning back into his chair. “There’s my good girl.”
She jolts as she feels his fingers start to rub at her. He’s almost lazy about, still leaned back into his office chair as two fingers enter her with another rubbing at her clit. Beetlejuice is smart with his fingers when he wants to be and she quickly gives in to them, moving her hips to the rhythm he sets.
Just as she’s really starting to feel it, slick around his fingers, he abruptly pulls them out. “Get to it, doll.”
Barbara shivers, nodding. She sits gingerly on his thigh, hot against her, and starts to move back and forth. It’s awkward, and she can tell he’s not impressed. Her naivety about the less conventional sex acts has been a source of great fun for him, but he does like a good show every now and then. And, well, Barbara’s found that she doesn’t mind putting on a show quite as much as she thought she would.
She moans for him, really grinding against his thigh as she puts a bit more effort into riding it. He moves his thigh up suddenly, catching her off guard and hitting her clit just right. That motion really makes her whimper and she throws back her head. Hands come up to balance on his other thigh and the armrest of the chair.
Barbara pumps her legs up and down. Ah, ah, ah’s fill the air. She’s into it now, having found just the right place to focus her motions on. She can see the easy grin on Beetlejuice’s face out of the corner of her eye, and she smiles despite herself.
“C’n I come, sir?” she breathes out, looking back up at him.
“Yeah, kitten. C’mon, Babs, come for me.”
She obliges, hips stuttering as she lets out a final moan. She comes to a complete stop, balanced on his thigh, panting. Her head thumps against his chest and she curls a hand into his shirt to secure her place.
Beetlejuice lets out a chuckle, low and deep in his throat. She can feel it, pressed against his chest like this. “You enjoyed that.” It’s not a question. He punctuates it with a press of his thumb to her clit, laughing again when she squeaks and jolts against him.
Barbara nods, face still buried into his chest. Some of it’s from the exertion, but she can fully feel the heat rising to her cheeks.
A hand pets her hair. “We’ll talk about it later.” Beetlejuice pulls her back into his lap like before, arms wrapped around her. He pulls them closer to the desk, hands coming up to his keyboard. He growls when he looks at the computer screen. “Let me finish these goddamn emails, then we’ll head home.”
She has no idea what else he’s planned for her and Adam tonight -- it must be something good, she doesn’t think the hardness beneath her is all from her little show.
“Yess'r,” she replies, a little sleepy. She snuggles into his neck, content to rest there until he’s ready to go.