Work Text:
“Uh, mmm… Joonghyuk-ah, are—are you done yet?”
It wouldn’t be out of character for this guy to be intentionally prolonging this, just to watch Kim Dokja squirm and suffer. He is a bastard and a prick and an asshole, after all, and Yoo Joonghyuk only seemed to be happiest when he saw Kim Dokja suffer.
It’s been like this for an hour now. Curse Kim Dokja’s past self for actually believing that Yoo Joonghyuk would finish work if he’d employed such a tactic. Curse Kim Dokja for even coming up to this bastard’s office.
He should’ve known that Yoo Joonghyuk was up to nothing good when that small smirk played on his lips. When he’d agreed to Kim Dokja’s deal—that if he could get Yoo Joonghyuk to come inside of him, he’d finally, finally go home with him. When Yoo Joonghyuk had stripped him of his pants with a fervor he hadn’t seen since they’d first had sex—in this same office.
They hadn’t had sex in a while, not with Yoo Joonghyuk’s duties ramping up—and thus, subsequently Kim Dokja’s own. If he could, he’d quit this damn job, but Yoo Joonghyuk was practically keeping him hostage, the band around his finger a clear sign of that.
And so, Kim Dokja has remained patiently, or rather impatiently, seated on top of Yoo Joonghyuk’s inhumanly large cock for an entire fucking hour. An entire fucking hour of listenting to this bastard jostle around with his keyboard, moving the tiniest amount every few minutes, and keeping Kim Dokja drip-fed on a modicum of pleasure as he worked his ass off for absolutely no reason at all.
To be fair… It wasn’t for no reason. It was for a very important reason, actually.
He’s just pissed that his plan didn’t fucking work. If anything, it backfired completely on him.
Kim Dokja’s cock pathetically dribbles against Yoo Joonghyuk’s suit, the fabric chafing his sensitive member more than necessary. Against it, it feels unreasonably good, and even more so with this bastard’s cock inside of him. But he can’t get the stimulation he needs. Not with Yoo Joonghyuk staying more still than a rock would be.
“Joonghyuk-ah… Please, Joonghyuk-ah…”
What the hell was there to do? This bastard—he must be making up work, right? Just to prolong Kim Dokja’s suffering?
Kim Dokja cranes his head to look at Yoo Joonghyuk’s laptop screen. Countless emails, nearly fifty tabs—ugh. He didn’t want to think about work at this moment. The bright light of the laptop, glowing amongst his retinas, sends his head back against Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder. Kim Dokja nearly bites down straight onto his tongue with a sudden buck of Yoo Joonghyuk’s hips, up into him.
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk grits. “You started this.”
Before he can even respond, Kim Dokja has to take a breather. The first movement Yoo Joonghyuk has given him in a while is enough to send him reeling, hitting him harder than a punch to the face. His cock dribbles even more, making a mess.
Of course, this bastard takes the opportunity to point out the mess as well. “Messy, Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk mumbles. “You’ll have to clean this up.”
This fucking bastard. Kim Dokja bites back the urge to curse this bastard out.
Even as his boss, though, wasn’t Yoo Joonghyuk being a little too audacious?
Keeping his secretary him, all pliant and open on his cock, all while he’s writing emails. All while he’s staying up to the strangest hours of night, working on whatever the hell, keeping his secretary waiting and wanting. Making his secretary do overtime, just to warm his cock. Never mind the fact that it was Kim Dokja’s fault in the first place for suggesting this. Kim Dokja would rat this bastard out on some shady online forum. One day, he’ll bring this bastard’s reputation plummeting to the ground.
“Hurry,” Kim Dokja hisses. “Uh, Joonghyuk-ah… You’re not going to take all night, are you?”
“Help out.” Yoo Joonghyuk types away on his keyboard, likely responding to another email. A notification pings out in the air. “If you want me to hurry, you have to help, Kim Dokja.”
Another buck of his hips sends another moan flying out of Kim Dokja’s mouth. His insides clench endlessly against Yoo Joonghyuk, desperate for him to fuck deeper into him. His body has been molded and spoiled by Yoo Joonghyuk’s harsh pace, and it’s completely unused to this change.
“Uh, ah—!” Kim Dokja keens.
It’s a good thing that Kim Dokja keened, in retrospect, as Yoo Joonghyuk only seemed to be goaded on by the sounds that he made. With a breath taken before he could possibly protest, Yoo Joonghyuk bucks deep into him again, hands grasping against Kim Dokja’s wrinkled suit, against his hips, to fuck him deeper on his length.
“Impatient.” Yoo Joonghyuk huffs, grunting out as Kim Dokja clenches around him again. “And so needy.”
His tone of voice tells Kim Dokja he’s won in this respect.
Kim Dokja can’t help the sounds that spill out of his mouth as Yoo Joonghyuk finally gives him what he’s wanted all this time. Sharp, harsh thrusts into his hole, stretching his rim beyond human capacity, each thrust punching up into his gut—the girth so thick it’s able to be felt within his throat. Moans and groans and mangled keens slip out freely with each thrust, sheathing in entirely with a slap of Yoo Joonghyuk’s balls against his hole, before slipping out, enough so that it just kisses his rim before Yoo Joonghyuk repeats this damned motion.
“Joonghyuk-ah, ngh, haah, uh, ugh—!” he cries, before he splatters right across Yoo Joonghyuk’s suit, a mess spilling everywhere.
Breathing slowly, he gathers himself in record time and sees the mess he’s made of Yoo Joonghyuk’s disgruntled face. Something drips from his hair, from his eyelashes, from practically everywhere on his face. The viscosity is too close to water to be come, so… what could it possibly be?
“Kim Dokja, you—”
In an instant, Kim Dokja slaps both of his hands on Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth. He can’t deal with this asshole right now. Right now, he has to gather his thoughts, and focus on something that isn’t Yoo Joonghyuk’s rock-hard cock still fully erect in his ass.
Did he fucking piss himself? Kim Dokja ponders, and ponders a little harder, but it’s the only conclusion he could come to. He can practically feel the chuckle forming within Yoo Joonghyuk’s throat, and he glares at him, if only to delay it for a second.
“Don’t. Say. A. Word,” Kim Dokja hisses.
Kim Dokja feels Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth curve underneath his hands, and he’s dragged by Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands into another thrust, a yelp marking the start of his imminent doom.