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Rhys has all but given up on finding dates and trying hookup apps. Between swinging wildly from "I need this immediately" to losing interest completely or getting cold feet... Sex isn't something Rhys really does. Sure, he’ll jerk off and watches his fair share of porn in the instance he’s got an excess of personal time, but when it comes to sex with another person? A real person? That's rare.
He's only really done it once or twice, maybe three times if he counts that frat party he snuck into in college that he can't really remember. The one that Vaughn definitely gave him a long talk about. He and Sasha barely made it to second base, turns out, she’s not one for corporate lackeys.
At least Rhys’s no-strings-attached silicone boyfriend has been great for the past couple of years. Treats him pretty well, doesn’t talk back or complain about his busy schedule. With him around, being pent up and chronically single was never really that much of a problem…
Until Timothy showed up, anyway.
Gorgeous and stupidly buff Timothy, who could easily flip on the Smooth Switch when he wanted to. Sure, he has his clunky moments where he trips over his words, but after spending half of his life mimicking Handsome Jack, the sexiest bastard in the galaxy, it’s an ‘unfortunate’ side-effect that Tim is just… hot. All the time.
And Rhys just found out Tim was the star in all of Jack's porno films.
It wasn't even anything out of the ordinary. Tim cracked a joke in the cafeteria - when anyone asked Tim anything about Jack or Hyperion it always ended in some kind of punchline - but the, " haha, please don't ECHOsearch those movies Jack made me do, I'll go jump off a bridge " lit some kind of fire within Rhys he didn't even know was there.
Movies? Oh, he means… Movies.
It was no secret that Rhys thought Tim was attractive, everyone thought Tim was attractive. He was designed to be attractive. His entire mask — both literally and figuratively — was Handsome in every way possible. And maybe it was just the fact Rhys hadn't had any private time in a few... weeks? Months? As ashamed as he is to say it, he doesn't even remember the last time he's gotten off.
When does he have the time? What's he supposed to do? Do it on the company time between meetings? That's ridiculous. Unprofessional. He had better self-control than that.
But it brews.
And brews, and brews. Every time he passed Timothy in the hallway, or saw him on the cameras, or heard the recruits talk about Tim and how hard he was on them during training, "... please don't ECHOsearch those movies… " just rings inside his head. Over and over.
To most, the fact that Rhys hasn't seen the pornos would probably come as a shock. The guy who was obsessed with Handsome Jack on every level hasn't seen Handsome Jack's porn ? He honestly hasn't. Because it wasn’t Jack . Everyone knew that, and if they didn’t they were either in denial or just incredibly stupid.
Handsome Jack himself didn't touch this kind of thing with a ten-foot pole, and it didn't matter how much Rhys so desperately wanted it back then, it would have been stupid for the real CEO of Hyperion to star in any film, let alone a porno . So it makes sense that it'd be a doppelgänger, but Rhys wasn't interested in Jack's doubles.
And since Rhys and the real Jack had a…falling out, there was absolutely no reason for him to search for them after the fact.
Not until recently.
The fact that it was Timothy in those films made Rhys want to very urgently see them. Even though he probably shouldn’t. He most definitely shouldn’t.
He can honestly say he tried his best to respect Tim’s joke request and not go looking for them but after following Yvette down to the training yard to sign off on the new soldiers, where he was ‘forced’ to watch Tim run track for what seemed like 1000 kilometers barely breaking a sweat… Rhys had held out as long as he could. He gave it his best effort.
"I uh, have to go. Now. I left my ECHOtab in my office- Just- Just uh, approve whoever, it's fine. You and Tim can take care of it, right? I’ll sign off on them later— By… By tomorrow, at least—" He's gone before Yvette can even question him, heading right back to his office.
There are so many movies. All of them Timothy.
It's weird, right? This is weird? He's being weird. Definitely. Absolutely. He should not be doing this, at all. Ever. He should never do this, he's supposed to be running a company, and running a company does not entail ECHOsearching his employee's old porn films. He should close the screen. Close the computer entirely and head back down to the training yard – but...
Holy shit, Tim can fuck.
"Holy mother of god," wasn't even voluntary. It just fell out, breathy, and way needier than Rhys would ever admit it was. Appropriate, nonetheless, as the young blonde twink Tim was mercilessly going to town on was being fucked to high-fucking-heaven. Or maybe hell if the profanity he was spewing as he fell apart hands-free is anything to go off of.
When his ECHO *dinged* it nearly scared the life out of him, as if his heart rate wasn't high enough. It was Yvette, asking what the hell was going on, but he made an executive decision to not only ignore it but mute his ECHO entirely.
Until further notice.
There’s at least an hour before their next big meeting. She could survive that long, Rhys could not. Not unless he took care of this... problem. Immediately.
Belt unbuckled and fly down, his hand slid down the front of his pants.
It didn't even help. If anything, it made it worse. Now he's ten times more hot and bothered and still unsatisfied, walking around Atlas with wet underwear and hair that's not quite going back in place.
He found himself tapping against the table during the meeting, squirming, unable to focus on the end of Yvette's presentation. He really needed a change of clothes. And a good fuck. A real one.
After the meeting concluded, Rhys thanked Yvette for filling in for him.
"I'm not feeling great today, I didn't know if I could have spoken in front of a crowd," he said. "You're a lifesaver."
He owed Yvette lunch for the entire week. He debated extending the offer, lunch for the next year if she'd be willing to do it again tomorrow, but he didn't want to seem suspicious by planning on being… 'sick.' He’ll be able to actually take care of himself at home, tomorrow will be better.
It was a mistake watching that movie, it's all he can think about. He couldn’t even look Tim in the eyes over the next couple of days. Everyone around Atlas seems to notice how fucking on edge he is. Yvette is getting especially concerned with how many meetings he's put off or shown up late for, and doesn’t seem too thrilled about how much he's been held up in his office, ignoring calls and not answering emails.
“You’re being weird,” she told him. “Weirder than usual anyway, and that’s saying something.”
Both Yvette and Vaughn keep asking Rhys if he's alright. Rhys shrugs them off and says he's fine. Which... isn't a lie. He was was fine, he was just... Horny. Very horny. He needed to get laid. In a very specific way by a very specific guy. A guy who Rhys was too shy to talk to outside of work and work-related topics.
The excuses change daily, none of which are at all convincing.
What is he supposed to say? “ Yeah, sorry. I’m currently obsessed with my hottest employee’s porno and it’s ruining my life because I haven’t gotten laid in what feels like years ”?
That movie is all he can think about. Tim is all he can think about. Being under Tim, falling apart like that guy in the movie is all he can think about. What’s worse, he knows that Tim is starting to notice how avoidant and flustered he’s been around the compound, around Tim , and all Rhys can do is hope Tim doesn’t figure it out. He can't even look at Timothy without soaking his panties.
The moan Tim lets out when he comes is the hottest thing Rhys has ever heard in his life and he can hear it echo in his head any time Tim talked.
He's gone through so many pairs of underwear in the last week it's ridiculous. He's ridiculous . He's all worked up over some dude who's probably not even interested in him, like some kind of hormonal teenage virgin out of a bad high-school vampire novel. The weird staring Rhys does from across the cafeteria doesn’t help his case in the slightest.
What would Tim look like if he was glistening in— Nope, nope. Not doing that.
Maybe if he spent more than ten measly minutes touching himself, it’ll actually help. If he took his time, really worked himself, he’d feel better, right? He swore the first time was the only time he’d watch it, but he was just so… He needed some kind of relief.
So there he was, at his desk. Again. Watching that one movie. Again. Headphones in so he can hear everything, from the wet slaps to the ragged breathing. His slacks were tugged down around his ankles, legs spread far apart so he could really picture himself in this scenario. His fingers moved in and out in tandem with Tim’s thrusts, each one of Tim’s cheesy lines and deep, pleasured moans making him shiver.
Yvette had asked Tim to check in on Rhys since she had to cover for him, again, and she wasn’t getting any sort of reason why. She was fed up, and Tim was honestly starting to get curious too. He and Rhys never really had a buddy-buddy-type friendship but the past couple of days has been straight-up awkward, so during his break, Tim made his way to the executive floor.
Upon arriving at the doors, the noises coming from inside Rhys’s office were…unmistakable. It made it extremely easy for Timothy to figure out why Rhys has been so high-strung as of late, and it occurred to him in the same moment that the most extreme of Rhys’s reactions have been when he and Rhys were within ten feet of each other.
It all adds up pretty quickly, and the crystal clear huffing and moaning echoing behind the door only reinforced the theory.
Rhys must’ve looked up those movies he joked about the other day.
Now, this wasn’t exactly new to Tim. It's not even weird for him if he were being honest. That’s why those stupid movies were made after all, and considering Vaughn mentioned that poster on more than one occasion he figured that this was probably the same type of thing.
He was going to just walk away, ignore it, pretend it didn't happen. He was already trying to think of what to tell Yvette. “Stress" probably wouldn't work, Rhys was stressed out 150% of the time but maybe he could sell the fact Rhys wasn't feeling well, physically, more than Rhys was selling it. That wouldn't have been a total lie, right?
But, it got exponentially more difficult for Tim to walk away from the door when he heard Rhys moan. Low, filthy, and unabashed. Not just a moan, a name. His name.
"Timothy -"
That’s new…and that’s… Well, fuck.
Tim hadn’t heard his name in such a tone in a long time. Not since being at the casino, and he arrived at Atlas months and months ago. It caught his attention… all of his attention. He’s usually not the type to get turned on by something so minuscule but walking away from those doors didn’t seem like an option anymore. Or maybe he just decided to ignore it as an option entirely on account of his dick.
He could have tried to justify it to himself, make some kind of excuse as to why he decided to punch in his access code on the office doors that were very much locked for a reason, and a good reason at that. Tim could have said that he was concerned or just checking in, which… again, wouldn’t have been a lie, but he had to face it, the half-hard cock straining against his jeans would have discredited whatever little excuse he managed to forge up anyway. Rhys isn't the only one around here who's been pent up.
The noise Rhys made when the doors hissed open could have easily been mistaken for a wounded Rakk, had Tim not witnessed it come directly from his mouth. Rhys shot up from his chair, and upon realizing his pants were around his ankles, he sat down again in a blur, immediately closing the holoscreen that was very clearly playing one of Jack Doppleman’s films.
Rhys started fumbling under his desk and judging by the way he was shimmying around he was reaching for what Tim assumed to be his pants, while he babbled on and on about how ‘this was not what it looked like.’
His face was redder than the Atlas logo on his shirt, which Tim couldn’t deny was a pretty entertaining sight.
“TIM! Wh-What are you doing here?!” barked Rhys, yanking his headphones off. “You’re supposed to b-be– Why are you in my office?!”
“I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting right now?” Tim asked, casually making his way over to Rhys. He didn't think it was possible for Rhys’s face to grow any brighter than it already was, but he was always exceeding everyone’s expectations. “So, uh...Which one was it?”
Rhys’s throat bobbed with a nervous swallow.
“On The Double,” he finally admitted, shame burning hot in his voice. “Look it- It’s really not what- This looks bad but I swear I was just- It’s just- Oh my god, I’m- I’m going to go rebuild Helios just so I can airlock myself, this is so embarrassing– You were supposed to be with the new recruits today and Yvette was- I just-”
“The recruits you haven’t signed on yet?” Tim asked.
He almost wanted to admit he predicted Rhys would’ve favored On The Double. Young twinky PA bent over his desk by the CEO of Hyperion just because he failed to turn in a few papers on time. It was a classic, and Tim had a hunch that Rhys wasn’t picturing himself in ‘Jack’s’ place here.
Maybe he could run with this. Rhys clearly needed to get fucked, bad, and Tim was more than willing to…help him out a little bit.
By the time Tim had made his way around the desk, Rhys had managed to almost slip back into his pants, but the scene was still suggestive enough to make Tim’s jeans tighter. His normally pristine slacks were all wrinkled, only halfway up his hips, and weren’t even buttoned yet, giving Tim a little peek at the cute black lace panties he was wearing before Rhys nervously covered himself up with his hands.
“I’m going to actually die,” Rhys muttered, avoiding eye contact with Tim at any cost.
“Dying on company time is against your contract,” Tim played up in his best confident voice. He was admittedly a little nervous, but he would make this work if Rhys allowed it. “You were supposed to sign off on those new recruits by noon, it’s now…”
He made a motion that implied he was checking the time, despite not wearing a watch.
“Three,” he guessed, the facade breaking just slightly. He didn’t even know the real-time. It was probably closer to four. Maybe. Rhys’s brows furrowed as went to pull his holoscreen up, but Tim waved it away before he could get a look.
“Ha-ha-ha,” Rhys forced, cold and dry. He finally stood up from his seat and took a moment to tuck in his shirt and zip his fly before he continued on, “Yes, this is all absolutely hilarious, Mr. Lawrence. I’ll be sure to get those papers on your desk by EOD.”
“Don’t think that’s enough, sweetheart,” Tim murmured. “Just like that crappy movie isn’t enough for you. I needed those papers hours ago, and you… You need somethin’ a little better than fifteen minutes and an old porno, don’t you?”
This was harder than Tim thought it was going to be. It’d been a hot minute since he’s put on this kind of a front and it was taking a lot more effort than he initially thought it would. The film Rhys was watching was made well over twelve years ago now. Not only was Tim having trouble remembering the script, but he was also trying to balance this shift delicately.
For Rhys’s sake…and a little for his own…but mostly for the sake of keeping his job.
“We could just solve both of these little problems right now…” Tim trod on, his heart thudding against his ribs, anticipation hiding in his voice. “Since we’re already here.”
When Rhys finally turned to look at Tim, he was holding his breath with wide eyes and tense shoulders. Tim could almost hear the gears churning inside Rhys’s head as he began considering the proposition. The realization set in on his face like it was some kind of revelation, all Tim needed now was an okay and it came in the form of a little, breathy –
“Yes, sir…”
It went right to Tim’s dick, and it took everything in his power not to ravage Rhys right then and there but he managed to hold out.
A half a step forward brought Tim inches away from Rhys’s flushed face, another half step had Rhys pressed against his desk. He was still tense, clearly nervous, but there was this eager, needy look in his eyes that was driving Tim absolutely crazy.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Tim said with a smirk, yanking Rhys’s shirt back out of his waistband. He immediately started to unbutton the pants Rhys had just refastened. “You’re gonna turn around, grab that stack of papers and start scribblin’ away. Each signature is gonna earn you a little reward. Understand?”
“Yes,” Rhys said, breathier. Hotter. “Of course…Mr. Lawrence.”
Almost immediately, Rhys did as he was told and turned around. He reached for his pen and the small stack of papers that had been sitting there since Wednesday. It was a bit surprising that Rhys took the order so easily, but Tim watched intently as Rhys signed the top sheet with a steady hand, the last few letters trailing off into his signature swirl.
A light touch against Rhys’s shoulder blades encouraged him to bend over his desk, and he once again obeyed without an ounce of hesitation. Tim decided he could get used to this as he tugged Rhys’s pants down with one quick motion, exposing those cute lace panties that - holy shit - were soaked .
“Next page,” Tim directed, totally unwilling to pry his eyes from the damp stained fabric peeking from between Rhys’s legs.
He immediately heard the flip of a page, then the scribbling of the pen. Tim made a point to peel those panties off slowly, relishing in the little gasp Rhys let out as the cool office air teased his hot, wet skin.
“Next,” Tim said again, unable to resist running his hands over Rhys’s ass, squeezing just hard enough to win a whimper. Yeah, he could definitely get used to this. He spread them a bit, admiring his cute little ass and the glistening lips of his more-than-needy pussy.
Rhys flipped to the next page.
The pen touched the paper and he signed his name in two different spots, top then bottom, a bit faster than the previous which was more entertaining to Tim than it should have been. He even turned the page without being told.
“There we go,” Tim cooed, running his index finger down Rhys’s slit, pressing into the velvet-soft folds ever so slightly. The touch was meant to tease more than please but the noise Rhys let out was unlike anything Tim had ever heard.
Rhys moaned like he’d never been touched in his life and the way he shuddered from such a feather-light touch made Tim begin to wonder if that was true. His next signature was sloppier, but he chugged along and flipped to the next page, and he didn’t wait to begin signing it this time.
Another scribble later and the tip of Tim’s fingers teased at his entrance. One more signature and Tim pushed two digits inside of his tight, incredibly wet pussy.
Rhys shuddered, huffed, chewed at his lower lip as if stopping his little noises would hide how absolutely desperate he was.
“Come on,” urged Tim, curling down towards that perfect spot as he began to slowly pump in and out. “You’re not done yet. You stop, I stop.”
“F-Fuck—” Rhys whined, grinding onto Tim’s hand.
“That’s the plan,” Tim teased, gently scissoring Rhys open before plunging back in. That was enough to get Rhys to scramble to the next page, scribbling nonsense across the dotted lines. Tim kept his fingers deep inside, rubbing small circles where Rhys needed it the most.
Tim was pretty sure Rhys would have just fucked himself on his fingers if he kept his hand still, but he instead picked up his pace. Incentive. He worked Rhys with a steady hand and didn’t miss the way he was already squeezing around his fingers as Rhys turned to the next page, pen fumbling in his hand as he did.
Compared to the others, this signature was barely legible, but it was still adjacent to his name.
Adjusting his angle, Tim plunged his fingers in as deep as they could go, applying steady pressure to Rhys’s sensitive little spot. He worked with precision, earning little gasps and shudders from Rhys, making his legs tense and feet eagerly shuffle below him.
“One more,” Tim continued, using his other hand to work open his jeans and free his painfully hard cock from the confines of the fabric. Rhys whined but finally turned to the last page.
The pen hit the paper, but the signature was nothing but a long, squiggly line.
Good enough.
The trail of please ’s that escaped Rhys’s mouth as Tim retracted his fingers were so desperate it was a miracle Tim didn’t come right then and there. He rubbed the wet slick that coated his fingers all over his cock with a few teasing strokes and without wasting a second more, he lined himself up and in one eager thrust, pressed all the way in.
Neither of them had a breath to spare, it was like the room was completely depleted of air. Rhys was so fucking wet. So warm, and tight, and…
“Tim—” Rhys gasped, clawing at the edge of his desk. His feet started to shuffle again, his back arching while whines and whimpers escaped with every ragged breath. “Please. Please… I’m— I need —”
But Tim didn’t move. Not yet. He stayed still, buried inside, pressing in and in and in. Even when he couldn’t go any deeper, he kept pressing, grinding, holding onto Rhys’s hips with a bruising hold, making sure he couldn’t squirm.
“Are you - fuck - are you goin’ to get your…paperwork in on time from now on, Strongfork?” Tim flexed his fingers and his hips twitched forward as if to punctuate his question.
“Y-Yes! Yes—” Rhys rasped. His pen rolled onto the floor. “Won't hap - hah - happen again— S-Sir .”
The first thrust had Rhys reeling. The second had him trembling . The third made him beg to a god he didn’t even worship and, already, Rhys all but screamed into his own palm as he came. Each wave of ecstasy made him shudder and whine, and every little noise only encouraged Tim to thrust again, growing a little faster, a little deeper with each little sound.
Every pulse, every squeeze, every shiver, only fueled Tim to keep his pace. He kept Rhys at his peak for as long as he could and didn't bother to hide his own huffs and moans. Rhys was chanting Tim’s name like it was a prayer - like Tim was some form of reverence. Over and over, each breathless ‘ Tim’ filled with as much greed as there was satisfaction.
“Fuck,” Tim groaned. He repositioned his hands around Rhys’s waist, starting to pull Rhys into his thrusts. He was trying to remember his lines and he almost wanted to tease Rhys for coming so fast, but he was so preoccupied watching Rhys bounce on his cock he forgot how to say anything other than, “ Fuck. ”
It was such a pretty sight, and Rhys was so, so, so wet and open now that he’d come. Tim could feel the slick dripping down his balls and the wet slaps that followed every thrust were absolutely fucking obscene. God, were they doing it for him. Everything about this was doing it for him, especially the tiny squeaks and mewls coming from Rhys as he white-knuckled what little composure he had left.
But Tim knew he could fuck that out of him too.
Another moan pushed from Rhys’s throat and he turned his head just enough to glance over his shoulder at Tim. He looked totally debauched, his face beet red and damp with sweat, locks of dark, wavy hair sticking to his forehead. He’d have made such a good pornstar, this image is gonna fuel Tim’s wet dreams for the next five years.
“Y’look so good like this,” Tim finally managed to choke out, a soft breathy moan following suit.
Rhys dropped down on his elbows, head hanging low, hair bouncing with each clash of hips. Small oh god ’s and fuck ’s with the occasional please kept pouring out like a broken record, over and over, each one sounding more strangled than the last.
Tim took advantage of Rhys’s new position and bent over, enveloping him, one hand still on Rhys’s tiny waist and the other grasping at the edge of the desk in front of them. It took a minute for him to find his footing again, but the new angle and leverage were worth the pause.
Like this, Tim’s thrusts were slow but he got so much deeper. He wanted Rhys to feel him, every inch of him, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming all the way back in. Over and over and over. Making sure each one punched the breath right from Rhys’s lungs.
“God,” Tim moaned and let his forehead rest on the back of Rhys’s shoulder. “You feel so— so fucking good…”
The hand he had resting on Rhys’s hip slipped underneath, heading right for Rhys’s swollen and desperate clit.
“Oh, g-god— Please, I— I don’t know if—” Rhys squirmed as Tim’s fingers began to stroke him, but Tim’s overbearing weight kept him in place.
“Shh, shh,” Tim hushed, his confident boss facade finally tapering off. He slowed his hips, giving Rhys’s sensitive clit his undivided attention. “S’okay, s’okay. I know it’s a lot, but just trust me, okay? Trust me, baby.”
Rhys’s whole body began to quiver as Tim worked him, stroking him between his thumb and index finger with dangerous consistency. His hips involuntarily bucked into Tim’s hand, and his legs were shaking so much Tim was convinced he was supporting Rhys’s entire body weight with that one arm.
“T-Tim—” Rhys choked. “Ti-iii-im, it’s— it’s—”
“ Trust me,” Tim said again, low and breathy against the back of Rhys’s neck. Rhys had gotten so tight he was struggling to keep his dick in, forcing him to buck his otherwise still hips every few minutes just to stay buried inside.
But he kept at it, despite Rhys’s pleas and whines and strangled gasps, Tim kept going. Kept ramming his cock back in when Rhys squeezed him out, stroking him faster any time Rhys sobbed out his name, whispering soft words of encouragement into Rhys’s ear.
“I’m— I’m gonna—” Rhys had no breath left, each word crumbling to pieces, but Tim didn’t need him to say it.
“Come for me,” Tim breathed, bucking his hips forward. “Come for me— One more. One more time, sweetheart.”
As if on command, Rhys started to come with a long, strangled “Timothy ” shaped moan spilling from his lips. His tight little pussy spasmed and pulsed around Tim’s cock, harder than the first time. Another rush of velvet-soft slick gushed over Tim, staining his pants and pooling in his palm. He couldn’t even move. If Tim even tried to thrust Rhys would have pushed him right out so he kept still, just grinding his hips, making sure his cock stayed deep inside while Rhys unraveled underneath him.
And God did it feel incredible.
“Your pussy’s just begging me to fill you up,” Tim murmured, rolling his hips. He brought his hand back up, wet fingers staining the expensive wood desktop as he held himself up. “That’s… fuck … That’s what you really need, isn’t it?”
Another push. Rhys whimpered, offering only a nod. He had come down just enough Tim could begin to move again, but he kept his pace slow. Short, tiny strokes, ensuring he wouldn’t push himself over.
“That’s not good enough, Rhys, I need you to say it.”
The noise Rhys let out was nothing short of carnal. “Please,” he added.
“Please what ?” Tim pressed, his movements grew inconsistent as he chased his own climax. “Come on, baby, I — god, your pussy — gotta hear it. I want to hear it—”
It took a minute for Rhys to gather himself enough to speak, or maybe he was just riding out Tim’s feral thrusts, but when he finally mustered up enough strength to glance back at Tim, staring back at him through long lashes and disheveled hair, he begged;
“B...Breed me.” It was more breath than word, and hotter than the sun itself. “Please— Please, Timmy—”
He barely finished his next thrust, and the moan Tim let out as he came was loud enough it echoed in his office, and probably all the way down the hall. The warmth spilling into Rhys was unlike anything he had ever felt or experienced. Tim’s cock throbbed, pulsed while ropes of thick, hot, white filled him.
Tim collapsed to his elbows shortly after and buried his face in the back of Rhys’s neck, breath hot enough to burn against Rhys's damp skin.
“Sorry—” Tim eventually exhaled, his cock still throbbing inside. Still so warm. “I just…I need a minute.”
“It’s okay…” Rhys assured him, unwilling to admit how much he liked it out loud. A soft, thankful hum echoed in Tim’s throat between huffs.
They stayed like that for a few more minutes, however long it took for Tim to recover enough strength to push himself off the desk, and the sudden absence of Tim made Rhys acutely aware of how cold it was inside his office. Or maybe it was just because he was soaking wet, nearly head to toe. If it wasn’t his sweat, it was cum.
“You uh… don’t keep towels in here by any chance, do you?” Tim laughed, lazily hiking up his jeans, the fabric was damp and reeked of Rhys.
“Actually… There’s one in the drawer,” Rhys admitted, almost shamefully, his quivering legs barely supporting him as he stood up.
Tim went right for the bottom drawer, the only one big enough to fit a towel and as promised, there it was. And on top of it, a change of clean underwear. He glanced up at a now re-embarrassed Rhys and handed them both over.
“Prepared, are we?” He teased, a toothy grin spread across his sex-flushed face.
“Shut up,” Rhys mumbled, snatching them out of Tim’s hand. “I should dock your pay for all the pairs I’ve gone through this week because of you. These aren’t cheap.”
“That’s fair,” Tim said, watching Rhys wipe himself up and attempt to salvage his outfit. “Go ahead and tack these two onto the bill.”
Rhys turned around, his clothes in hand, “Two? ”