Its the random blues that limits me.

and he doesn't argue back anymore. he lets you unzip him and pull his boxers down just enough to free his aching cock. it’s leaking profusely—his body can’t hide just how much he truly needs you just as much as you need him. when you thumb over his head, he sighs a little too loudly than he would have hoped. 

“mr higuruma?” a voice speaks up from his laptop. “did you want to add anything?” 

panic flashes over his face. “n-no, i—”

his words are cut off by you pulling your dampened underwear to the side and aligning yourself on his tip, hands planted firmly on his shoulders. it takes all of his willpower to not audibly groan at the feeling of your warm, wet cunt sinking down on him inch by inch, fingertips digging into his skin through his shirt. 

“nothing to add, apologies,” higuruma finishes through clenched teeth, jaw tightening as you bury his dick up to the hilt within your gummy walls.

your head falls into the crook of his neck, saliva pooling in the corner of your mouth at the maddening stretch that you're experiencing. it still takes time for you to adjust to his size, even after all these years with him. hiromi’s hands fall to your waist, gripping tightly and urging you to move. 

when you begin to rock your hips, it’s impossible to stop the whine that moves past your lips. the feeling of him filling you up completely, his chest heaving with every shaky breath that he takes, trying to keep as quiet as possible, is utterly unbearable. higuruma guides you gently, moving your hips up, down, back and forth. 

“h-hiro—” you mumble into his skin. “fuuuck…”

soft grunts and pants escape him as he struggles to keep control over his body’s involuntary reactions to the stimulation. his hips snap up to meet yours with every slow, tantalising grind of your body. your walls clench around his length as the pleasure makes your insides buzz with desire. 

“keep going,” he whispers into your ear, breath ghosting over your skin. 

the two of you rut against one another like a pair of horny virgins thirsty for release. his cock squelches inside of you with every stroke as your sticky slick drips around him. 

it feels like the meeting is neverending because all you want to do is cum, but you know it’ll be impossible to refrain from crying out in euphoria when you do. you've been yearning for release all day, so riding higuruma while he’s on call, while you’re struggling to keep quiet, feels all too much for you to be able to hold out. 

and it seems like it’s too much for him, too, because he groans into your ear. “baby, ‘m close.” 

of course hiromi was going to be the one who was about to finish first, despite his initial disdain towards being in this situation in the first place. 

“can’t hold it for me?” you exhale, and he moans quietly, nodding his head.

he pants; jaw agape, eyebrows furrowed, hands clutching at your waist. 

“that’s all for discussion, today,” you hear muffled voices from the glowing electronic on his desk. “thank you for coming, everyone.” then the call drops. 

the man beneath you wastes little to no time in slamming the screen of his laptop shut and letting loose a long moooaaaan that he had been suppressing for far too long. 

you whine right back, calling out his name. he thrusts up into you and a warm heat spreads across your entire body. you know he’s close.

hurriedly, your hand flies to between where your bodies are connected, fingers finding your clit to rub circles into the sensitive bud. 

“hiro— hiromi, ngh—” you whimper helplessly, hips rolling into him fervidly. “gonna cum—”

he’s been reduced to an incoherent mess under you, so he just groans in approval. he pushes your hand that’s on your pussy away, replacing it with his own. the stimulation is all so much—his strokes sloppy and frantic, the wet slaps of skin-on-skin, his warm hands applying pressure on your clit. 

your stomach is coiled tight, threatening to burst, and when you feel his thick cock twitch in you, you cry out in pure delight. 

“fuck—!” your thighs quiver around him. waves of pleasure ripple throughout your body, hole fluttering uncontrollably around him. thick, creamy liquid pools at the base of his dick. 

you feel his hot cum spill into you, his head falling back against the chair as yours slumps into his chest. your hands grip his hair tightly and his clasp on you goes limp. 

both of you sit there in a stunned silence. 

higuruma uses his strength to easily scoop you up from his lap, strands of sticky cum connecting your cunt to him as he places you on the bed and spreads your legs with his large hands wrapping around your plush thighs. he eyes up your pussy like it’s a meal, eyes glassy with hunger. 

“let’s get you cleaned up.” 

masterlist

you think you’re being pretty obvious, the sound of your voice, the way you’re slowly inching toward him… but when you lean in to lock the door behind him, so close that your breasts press against his chest, and he has that same clueless look in his eyes, you know no amount of hinting is going to inspire him to make the first move.

higuruma clears his throat, begins to speak again, but is instantly cut off by your lips against his. you swallow the surprised breath he hitches, lifting up on your toes for better reach as you slowly pry open his stiff mouth, sucking on his bottom lip. higuruma kisses back, but barely. he’s holding back at first, restrained by some sense of this isn’t really happening, she can’t be in her right mind, even when your hands come up to grasp his bicep, squeezing the muscles there through the layers of his suit.

and when you pull back, his eyes—more animated than you’ve ever seen them—search your face frantically. he’s already flushed, splotches of red painting his pale skin, pupils blown. “you, uh, you sure?”

and god, if that doesn’t turn you on even more. the quiver in his voice, like he’s holding back a dam from breaking using a flimsy stick. your nod is what breaks it; all it takes for him to dive back in with unrestrained force, slotting your lips together with more fervor this time. his tongue takes it’s fill of every crevice of your mouth like it’s been waiting eons to explore you. he walks you both deeper into the empty room until your back hits the curve of the round meeting table, his large hands all over you. grabbing, caressing, holding, squeezing. not rough enough to hurt, god forbid, but with just enough force to memorize all the curves of your body.

you sit halfway on the table, halfway held up by his unrelenting grip on your thigh, parting your legs so he can fill the space between them. higuruma groans outright when your clothed cores connect, already harder than he can ever remember being. he’s never been the kind of man driven by lust, even in his younger, primer years. but now, with you in his hands, so eager and willing, he finally understands the feeling, and he can’t help but think he’s been missing out.

higuruma’s swollen mouth presses into your cheeks and jaw, travels to your neck, sucking and kissing and licking every sliver of skin he can reach and unbuttoning your work blouse on his way down. when he reaches your breasts, only shielded from his prying eyes by your bra now, he swears he feels like he could faint. the look he gives you when he meets your gaze, dark eyes glazed over with desire like they’ve been caramelized, makes your pussy leak messily in your already damp panties.

“i’m sorry, i just…” higuruma starts, voice deep and rough, hanging his head to rest against your chest for a moment. as if he’s overwhelmed by everything that’s happening, drank too much of you too fast and now he’s well passed tipsy. much to your surprise, he exhales and drops to his knees at once. “i need this.”

you peer down at him, the curious hum you produce quickly morphs into a yelp when he yanks your hips into him, propping one of your thighs over his broad shoulder and holding open the other. so forcefully exposing you to him it’s almost dehumanizing. he lifts your pencil skirt until it’s a pool of fabric around your waist, littering a plethora of kisses to the insides of your thighs. each press of his lips to your overheated skin burns like a brand, devoted and reverent, sending white-hot need flooding behind your navel.

“hiro, don’t tease.”

you need his mouth on you. you need his tongue on your pussy. you need to feel the tip of his nose bump against your clit without the veil of your silk panties in the way, just like the way you pictured when you closed your eyes at night, touching yourself and imagining it was him. you’ve needed it for so long, and you know he feels the same—an unspoken truth that courses and pulses between the two of you like a living entity, hanging heavy over every trivial interaction, bleeding into every lingering touch and shared laugh.

however, higuruma quells his needs a different way. it’s mind-melting, the way desperation lines his every movement, you’d think he’d be tearing your clothes off—but he’s so hellbent on savoring you. taking his sweet time as he zeroes in on the spot you’re aching for him, closes his eyes and inhales the mess you made of the silky gusset. the low, drawn out moan that follows goes straight to your cunt, making you buck your hips up into his face crassly. almost instinctively, your hand flies to his hair, shamelessly holding him there so he doesn’t shy away again.

it feels like relief and denial all at once when he finally presses his lips to your clothed pussy, his tongue coming out to taste you. the wet pressure of his tongue jolts every nerve inside of you alive, and a moan escapes your mouth before you can stop it.

somehow, he reacts more audibly than you, his own whimper loud enough to be heard through the thick, sterile walls, but you can’t find it in you to care at this point—not when it feels this good—and clearly, he never has. in the back of your mind, you wonder just how long ago you could’ve gotten away with this. how long has he been craving you? so much so that he’s ready to risk it all, drop to the floor and devour you without a seconds hesitation.

he licks and sucks while his hands squeeze and grope, seemingly trying to wring every last bit of your juices out like he’s malnourished and all the nutrients he needs is stored in your pussy. and yet, every roll of his tongue, every press of his lips is driven with purpose; the only reason he isn’t sloppy with it is because that’d mean letting it go to waste.

your hands grip the table so tightly it hurts, your stomach tensing under the weight of your own pleasure. you’re already so close and he hasn’t even touched you bare yet. the barrier between you two is almost unbearable.

“hiro—higuruma. take ‘em off, baby. please. it’ll taste so much better.”

his eyes flick up to you like he just remembered you were there, your wrecked voice a welcome intrusion on his one-on-one time with your cunt. he speaks sweetly, brokenly, “tastes perfect just like this, though?”

you’re starting to think your coworker derives some sort of pleasure from denying himself.

higuruma doesn’t let you complain anymore, because then the curve of his large nose is rubbing against your clit so nicely, and his tongue is all but trying to pierce through your panties to reach your quivering hole, so empty and so needy. you cry out, muffling your noises with your own hand while you grind your sopping pussy against his nose, the friction sending a million tiny sparks of fire all throughout your body, blossoming from the center and prickling your ears, shooting all the way down to your toes.

“oh, is that it? yes, fuck my face. please, sweetheart? take whatever you need; i can handle it.”

you weren’t planning on stopping, though the encouragement spurs you on, humping into him in earnest, using him like a toy for your own release.

to hear higuruma speak so vulgarly where he’s usually the poster boy of professionalism, always so careful with his words, fills you with a sense of power you didn’t realize you could feel. the swell of pride that courses through you to be the one person able to break through his stoic exterior and reduce him to a hungry, desperate and defiled man in his place of work… it’s nothing short of dizzying.

without warning, higuruma finally, finally pulls your underwear to the side, fully exposing your cunt to the heat of his breath, and shoves his face into you again. like he’s reached the end of the bowl and it’s time to lick the dish clean.

moaning, he wraps his lips around your puffy clit, and all it takes is one, two noisy sucks and your orgasm crashes into you like a wave. the fury of white spots behind your eyes when you squeeze them closed are brighter than the harsh overhead lights in the office. his ministrations never stop, not as you pull his hair, not as you convulse and clamp your thighs around his head, not even when you attempt to push him off, legs shaking and pussy sore.

“i came, hiro,” you plead, muscles too weak from the aftershocks to pry him off of you. “mmf—too much.”