Work Text:
"May I take this with me, sir? I could stitch this up and clean that stain! I’ll even iron it out!”
Oh, if that truly was the case…
Smithers had his eyes on that ripped up piece of cloth for reasons other than salvaging it. Of course, he’s going to be a man of his word and fix it up for Burns, but that’s not why he had his eye on the piece.
Carrying his bags into his apartment, he’s greeted by his lovely collection of Malibu Stacys, stacked neatly on their shelves, as per usual. Tiny little paws scratched at his leg, as he was also greeted by his pipsqueak dog!
“Hey, Herkey! How are you doing, boy?” He laid everything he needed by the door for tomorrow, making sure to grab the shirt, taking a minute to scratch Herkey’s ears.
In early, out late again tomorrow. Practically married to his boss. Good lord, he wished that were the case! Maybe then, he wouldn’t have to resort to his usual at home degeneracy. Smithers took a moment to refill lil Hercules’ water bowl and scooped out some dog food into his food bowl. The small guy has quite the appetite, but even then, the food will be enough to distract him as he heads to the other room. Closing the door.
Taking the shirt with him to his chair, he boots up his computer, and is greeted by his screensaver. Sentence spliced confessions from his boss in digital form. Fictional, and yet so immersive. He’s set certain phrases to be played at random intervals when his mouse or keyboard remains inactive, ensuring that if his hands were busy he could still get a good show.
Bringing the shirt up to his nose, he took a sniff.
Fuck.
Smells just like him.
The reaction elicited a strained, quiet moan from Smithers. Looking down after regaining some composure, he came to realize how hard he got just from the smell alone. He had to sniff it again.
Almost addicting how sweet it smells. To most it’d bring back memories of retirement home visits and Werther's Originals. For Smithers however, It tickled some part of his brain, making him feel like Burns is with him.
“Perhaps you could work overtime tonight.”
Smithers sprang up, freezing in his tracks. Desperately he clinged to the cloth, eyes looking like a deer in headlights! Then he realized, it was only his screensaver talking, he sighed. Ah, he was terrified, but hoping. Can huffing old man smell make you go braindead? Smithers pondered on this before shaking his head. Though, he’s so deep into his arousal that the idea did spark a few new fantasies.
He tried to unfasten his belt and pants as quickly as he could, yet it still wasn’t quick enough. He finally got himself free and pulled his dick out, desperate to stroke it. he rubbed it firmly, yet slowly. Not choking it, but enough to let him imagine what it would be like to fuck his boss’ tight ass. Mumbling to himself, Smithers took a moment to imagine what it would be like to hold him down, kiss him, and enter him. Hearing his boss whine like a little brat whenever he thrusted into him. Maybe Burns would pretend to detest his actions and call him a “dirty little whore” or maybe even a “harlot!" Yes, that sounded more like him, he’d call him a harlot! Desperate to call Smithers out on his outrageous behavior, make him reconsider and stop dead in his tracks, but Smithers wouldn’t let this once in a lifetime opportunity slip him. Through all of his insults, he’d only be able to reply with a simple “yes sir.” It’s better to just admit it. He’d just be called more filthy things if he denied.
Like he wouldn’t be into that as well…
“You’re rather desperate, aren’t you?” The computer program spoke. Sure, the sentence splicing could have been done better, but hearing Burns’ voice at all got him going. Even if the sentence splicing is comparable to those shitly made edited videos online that get a lot of attention and laughs, that didn’t matter to him! It’s not like anyone else is going to witness this program speak!
Biting his lip, he speeds up his strokes, he could see drops of precum rolling off his dick. Smithers wiped up any bits that fell on the chair with the shirt. Going right back to shoving it in his face and huffing up that old man smell mixed with his own scent. His whines get louder and more frequent as he’s close to blowing his load. Just before he’s about to release, he takes a big whiff of the shirt to immerse himself more into his fantasy. He can’t help but stroke himself just a little faster, making a desperate mess of himself on the chair. He couldn’t stop fantasizing what it’d be like to cum inside of Monty. Seeing his eyes widen with curiosity, and narrowing once more to look at his assistant with a mix of disappointment and lust, awaiting to see if his assistant’s pathetic load is worthwhile. That vivid image in his head made him spill over. With a pathetic grunt, he came. Riding down from his high, he jerks himself a few more times till he knows he can’t take anymore, making sure that he can savor every last second.
Once it was more of a pain to continue playing with his overstimulated cock, he sighs and takes a minute to relax. Shutting off the computer before screensaver Burns makes Smithers feel more guilty.
That’s when he realized, ah fuck! He got cum on the shirt. He swore as he realized this. He remembers the deal he made from earlier. It needs a bit of patching, but he can do it in a day! Smithers is a man of his word, and he’ll fix up that rag in no time. Clean it till it's good as new! Maybe even replace the buttons with something more refined.
And plus, Burns will never know what happened with that piece of cloth Smithers decided to fix.