riddler-coded (autistic) 💚🩷

Turning the corners on auto-pilot, given how often you'd made this trip from your designated room to the security office, you briefly considered turning around. It wasn't too late. Nothing, so far, was out of the ordinary. As far as anyone who might have caught a glimpse of you was concerned this was standard fare. You were, after all, tasked with assisting in any and all chores of the vault. Why would it strike anyone as odd that you were approaching your place of work even this late at night? Security matters didn't just stop when everyone else went to bed. For all they knew, Lieutenant Colonel James Oberlin, head of security for the vault and now de facto overseer in part thanks to you, had called you there with the intention of asking your assistance in yet another matter that he believed to be beneath him.

Although, it wasn't beyond belief that they could have guessed the truth. You kept your opinions and feelings quiet, but the way you were so eager to assist, so keen to make any excuse to head to the security office, made you worry that your feelings towards Oberlin were obvious to anyone with half a brain. Except for him, you hoped. And you could believe that, at a push. He wasn't exactly open with his emotions. You'd seen him smile exactly once, when the nasty business with Stolz had been concluded to his satisfaction, and never before or since. Even when you dutifully carried out his instructed tasks you received a frank and emotionless thanks before being given your next assignment. It meant you didn't worry about him thinking twice about your stammering, your sweating, your fluttering eyelids. But it also perhaps suggested that even if you were to confess how you felt about him, he might not be the kind to reciprocate them.

It was time to find out, though. The sooner he rejected you, the sooner you could get over your crush and get back to living your life. As wonderful as you had found Vault 63 an as grateful as you were for their warm welcome, you did miss the surface a little. An odd thing to admit, given how it could be sometimes, but you had spent enough time in your own vault and since leaving 76 going inside again was the furthest thing from your mind. But you'd been trapped there in 63 by your hopes, your emotions, your wishes, and had let it happen so wilfully. That had to end. And if it did so in tears, then so be it. At least you would have an answer.

When you had finally talked yourself into going ahead with your confession, you had reached the bottom of the stairs that led up to the security office where James Oberlin, as dutiful as he was, would no doubt still be working away. He never seemed to sleep, not that you ever saw, and you suspected that he was the kind of man who, if he dared to relax, he might never be able to get back up again. As though he were a shark, and would somehow die if he stopped moving for even just a second. But it worked in your favour, as you could hear him shuffling papers and muttering to himself as you approached his always open door.

For five minutes you stood there, completely unacknowledged by James, who was as always busy with paperwork for a task you would no doubt bear the brunt of. You could have moved from your awkward position, or you could have made any kind of noise to attract his attention, but you found yourself struck by an inability to do anything but watch him. That was fine, though. It was always a pleasure to be able to enjoy him without there being something to eventually interrupt your daydreams. His strong arms tensing beneath his suit and his armour, thick fingers creasing the sheets of paper that they held, eyes down in concentration, lips moving as he muttered quietly to himself. That was, before he raised the volume of his words and shocked you enough to make you jump.

"Is there a particular reason you're loitering in my office? And if so, are you eventually going to tell me what it is?"

He looked up now, for the first time since you'd encroached upon his personal space in a manner that was apparently intrusive to the point of irritating him, not even intending to do so.

"And why aren't you wearing… Where are your clothes? Didn't we give you a vault suit to wear around the place?"

Suddenly, your sparse outfit made you feel ridiculous. You were covered appropriately, of course, but perhaps the shorts were somewhat revealing. And maybe your shirt didn't quite conceal the fact that you weren't wearing a bra. All you could get out in response was a pathetic stumble over words you weren't even aware of.

"Wh… A… Huh?"

Maintaining eye contact, seeming not to even blink, James spoke slowly, intentionally so, with his eyebrows raised and his head bobbing along to his exaggeratedly simplified cadence.

"A jumpsuit. Long blue thing with a zip and the number sixty-three on the back? Six and three? You know numbers, right? I haven't been sending you out to do dangerous things without a grasp of basic maths and literacy, have I?"

His lip turned up slightly at the corner, clearly pleased with himself and his jokes, but avoiding the temptation to commit to a true smile.

"It's a little late in the evening to be this mean."

"Nah, it's never too late for that. What else did you come here for if not to be talked down to in a shitty tone? That is my speciality."

Braver than you'd ever felt, and bolstered by the knowledge that this might be the last time you were allowed to speak to him, you took on a bit of an attitude. One that you knew he would take issue with.

"I'm just here for a conversation. I think you owe me that much, no?"

As expected, James scoffed, his reddened eyes opening wide in disbelief at your apparent insolence.

"I owe you?"

Without hesitation, you answered his question.

"I mean… Surely you do. For everything I did? Do you really think a weapon and some praise were going to be adequate payment for me risking my life?"

In an attempt to mask his intrigue into the conversation, he lifted a clipboard and a pen and began to do his administration work, or at least he pretended to, as he followed along with the direction the conversation appeared to be going in.

"Seemed to suit you just fine at the time."

"But I've done so much more since then."

He laughed, one short, gravelly chuckle that ended in a sigh as he shook his head.

"I don't think squishing a few roaches for us counts as risking your life."

That comment particularly hurt you. He was minimising your efforts, the work you did for him and the vault. Or, maybe he wasn't. Maybe he just hadn't really noticed what you did, or in general.

"Is that really all you think I do here, James?"

The sound of his name coming from your lips made him look up at you, his eyes lingering on yours, straining to stay there instead of wandering down your body to take you in like they desired to. He assessed risks, he watched for people's strengths and changes in their body language, in their mannerisms, in their cadence. You were firing up his instincts with this new found attitude. He had to keep up with you. If you were to start complaining now, then so be it. It wouldn't take much for him to get rid of you, hell, he could do it himself if it came down to it. You'd be gone by morning, before anyone even realised.

But before he made any harsh decisions, he wanted to let this play out. Maybe you would surprise him, how you had done before. So he pushed the knife in deeper, not letting up on his formal yet insulting tone.

"To be honest? Yeah. And I think free room and board for it is more than fair compensation."

"Hm. Interesting."

"What is?"

"Just that… I thought maybe we could talk. Have a chat. I'm awake and bored. You're awake and lonely."

You had stunned him into silence with the perceived insolence, not to mention the newly discovered bravery that was allowing you to not only talk back to him, but to mock him. At least that's how he took the insinuation that he was perhaps lonely. It was apparently a sensitive topic to him, not one he would have recognised had you not tapped into it and struck a nerve.

"I'm not lonely, let's get that squared away. I am alone. Not lonely. I happen to like the peace and quiet."

James believed that he'd dealt with that effectively, shutting down the notion quickly before he let you believe you were correct.

"Yet you told me not to be a stranger."

"Oh, using my words against me, huh?"

"Not at all. I'm just repeating them."

This combative side of you was growing on him. He loved to argue, any excuse to get that little bit of pent up aggression out since he'd been relegated to duties behind a desk out of only necessity, nothing to do with his age or his strength of course. And he could give just as well as he received.

"Uh-huh. Well, you know that when I said that, I meant it would be great if you could keep helping around here. Not that we should start having sleepovers where we stay up late gossiping."

It was like you were playing a dangerous game here. How much longer could you really keep up this facade of confidence and control in the face of your plans shattering in front of you? James Oberlin hadn't seemed to be the kind of man who would accept your feelings or advances before, and the way he kept batting against you made that even more obvious now. A final attempt at undercutting his arrogance and the smug, self-satisfied aura he was oozing was all you could offer.

"Don't be a stranger. That's all you said. So many implications. So much room for plausible deniability."

He moved, finally, in a perceptible manner. He shot his arms up and out, opening his body, pulling them forwards finally to display you to the empty room.

"And hey! I can never seem to get rid of you. You definitely haven't been a stranger."

"Of course not, that's the furthest thing I'd want to be to you."

The words were out of your mouth before you even knew what you were saying, and it was impossible to cram them back in. Instead, you let them sit there, as did James. The silence that followed them was louder than the words themselves. You hoped beyond hope that he'd let the awkward confession dwindle away to nothing, but he didn't. Instead, he opted to tease you. No, not even a tease. This was cruel. It was mean. He was speaking his truths, and the more he said, the more you realised how ridiculous you felt for thinking that you could mean anything more to him than an extra pair of hands to do his dirty work in a decidedly unsexy manner.

"Oh yeah? You don't think we practically are strangers? I know your skills, but not much more than that. You know the same amount about me as everyone else in this vault. What are we then?"

"I, uh… Well, I mean… I'd like to think of us as being a little closer than strangers. But I suppose if you don't feel that way then I'll-"

The sting of tears threatened you from behind your eyes, and you wished you had never come to his office. Even if you'd come as your usual self, willing, subservient, eager to please, you couldn't imagine it would have gone any better. Your stuttering over words made him laugh finally, and the chuckle was lighter than his words to the point that it confused you enough that you looked directly at him, trying to discern the meaning of it. He raised his hands, having let them fall with his arms when he reverted to his regular position, and offered a symbol of truce.

"Woah, woah. Don't get yourself upset. I'm kidding. Can't handle a bit of teasing? I'll mark that down in your file."

Trying not to make it look like you were doing anything but scratching an itch, you rubbed your nose to keep the tear-sparked snot from dripping.

"You have a file on me?"

"Yeah. I'll mark 'can't take a joke' next to the part where I wrote that you were real good at stomping big bugs."

"Very funny."

He shrugged, as though he could pretend to be nonchalant despite his next words being so self-serving.

"Thanks. I bet you thought I didn't have a sense of humour. Shows how much you know me. Strangers indeed."

"Mhm. Yeah. Well, I'll leave you to practice your tight five. If you need anything tomorrow can you leave it until the afternoon? I have to catch up on my sleep."

It was disappointing, of course, to leave on that note, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Turning to the door to walk away, you were somewhat relieved. Now you knew how he felt, and maybe you could finally get past your feelings. Even if it was only enough to see you into the next chapter of your life. Just as you reached the door, however, you heard James voice. Sharp and clear, full of intention.

"Hey, wait a second."

When you turned back around he was looking down at his desk, fiddling with papers and pretending, very obviously to read them. He had been watching you leave, and something in him wanted to be sure you didn't go yet. In your chest, your heart beat like it was running the risk of popping out.

"You're right. For what it's worth."

"About what?"

"You… You do deserve a lot more thanks. Honestly, we couldn't have done… Any of it… Everything. Nothing. Without you. Not so much of a stranger, really, now that I think about it. So thank you."

Hearing him say those particular words in the far softer than usual tone he used had you smiling before you even noticed you were doing so. And in response to your own grin, James let his guard down enough to smile himself. Seeing that you'd broken through to him, you found yourself closing the gap between him, body once again reacting without your mind's input, and instinctively, you threw your arms around him in a warm embrace. It felt so nice to be acknowledged, to hear his appreciation out loud, and to have pushed through to his softer side.

But then you were struck by the realisation that you were hugging him, and the impulsive way you had thrown yourself at him, without any considerations, had you flinching and beginning to pull away. That was when you noticed that he was hugging you too, his large, muscular arms wrapped around your up and lower back, hands placed firmly but respectfully on your body.

Or that's how you interpreted it. Wrongly, at first. But by the time you realised it, you were correct in your assumptions. As a knee jerk reaction to your whole body being pressed to him without pause to brace himself for that impact, he had actually intended to hold your waist and keep you at a distance, to push you off when he grew uncomfortable with the display of affection. But as his hands landed on your hips, he found his fingertips sparking with heat, as rough, thick-skinned, calloused from effort as they were they appreciated the contrasting softness of your own skin, your shirt rising up as you stretched to place your arms over his shoulders. He couldn't remember the last time he'd touched skin like yours. It reminded him of what he had, of the past, of prospects in the future.

Not intending it to be quite so obvious, he pulled you in tighter, surprising you with the gesture. Your breath hitched in your lungs and you let out a soft sigh on your exhale, nuzzling your face into his chest as he held you close, your embrace deepening, meaning more to both of you than either of you expected. He placed his own head into the crook of your neck, his breath warm on your skin, lips surprisingly soft despite how thin and scarred they were. He'd worked his way to your shoulder before you even realised what he was doing.

James' fingers pulled at the collar of your shirt, exposing more of your skin as he placed soft kisses to you. You lifted your head, catching his eyes as he looked to you. There was a moment of painful silence, concern rising in your throat as you panicked that by addressing this level of affection you might have put him off. But you could tell by the glint in his eyes that your longing stares had the complete opposite effect. He pulled back, yes, but only to walk to his door and close it, locking it before turning back to you. It took him plenty of time to walk his way to where you stood by his desk. And even then, when he was right there, all you did was stare up into his eyes, his body never touching yours, a gap between your skin and his despite him walking into you. The toes of his boots were touching your bare feet and his chest heaved, almost touching yours as he took a shuddering breath. His palms sweaty, a slight quiver in them, found their way to your hips. They guided you to the desk, your rear hitting it, a stopping point that gave you both a jolt.

"You good?"

His brow bone shifted, a raised eyebrow had he had one, and he waited patiently for a response, long after you had slowly nodded. In that moment, he was acutely aware of his size, his stature relatively imposing as he stood over you, given that you had almost shrunk as you bent backwards into the desk. Maybe he'd been ignorant before, pretending that watching you leave his office was to make sure you were finished with your questions as opposed to enjoying the way your body moved. Perhaps he'd allowed himself to pretend that he wasn't interested in this level of intimacy with anyone. Now that it was happening, though, he had to be sure it was perfect. No uncertainty, no doubt, no regret.

"I'm good. Better."

It might have needed a few more filler words, but the sentiment was understood. James grabbed your waist and attempted to lift you, a little hint towards where he wanted you that had you heaving yourself up and onto his desk, sitting on the edge below him. Once you were seated, a little bit higher now, easier to reach, his fingers trembled ever so slightly as he reached for your face, warm palm on your cheek not only a delicate gesture of caress but a subconscious move by a worried and insecure mind that was trying to make sure you stayed there.

Of course you stayed. Nothing could have moved you, especially when James began to lower his head, eyes closing softly just before he reached you, intent written on the lips that closed in on yours. A gentle kiss that worked into a more enthusiastic one. He was attentive to you, responsive to your moans as he flitted his tongue and explored the boundaries and preferences with his body, despite his focus shifting to a secondary task.

Dexterous in spite of their thickness, James' fingers clamped around the zip at the front of his jumpsuit and dragged it down. Nothing underneath, just bare skin a slightly paler colour than his cheeks. No undershirt, no vest, just hot, sweating flesh. With a shrug, he moved it off of his shoulders, letting it fall to his hips. You were mesmerised by him. His bulk was made up of naturally occurring muscles, worked at with vigour, covered by a layer of fat accumulated by age and resignation to a desk job. He was undoubtedly strong, capable, not carved by excessive maintenance but seemingly god given. Your gawking stopped where the jumpsuit had landed, keeping him covered, but only just. The zip was low enough to let you see the telltale beginnings of his crotch, stray tufts of pubic hair that had survived the scarring that covered him. Below his soft belly pouch there were lines that led you back there, staring at the rounded bulge tantalisingly hidden from you.

You felt your face heating up as he placed his thumb under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him instead of his body. He smiled, knowing and forgiving, pleased with how you seemed to view him.

"Keep your eyes up here. I want to look into them."

His thumb slipped upwards onto your lip, pulling it down as you nodded, unblinking, dedicated to his gaze. His fingers stretched out, resting on your cheek before playfully tapping at them with a chuckle. As much as you appeared to be mesmerised by him, he would have been happy to argue that he was far more struck with you in the moment. It had been so long since someone had looked at him as anything more than a figurehead. You looked at him like a human. With desire.

As he moved in for another fulfilling kiss, he couldn't help but let his mind wander, wishing you had come to him before with your feelings on your sleeve. If only you'd told him how you felt when you'd finished helping him take Vault 63 back. Approached him as he sat behind the Overseer's desk. Confessed to him as he revelled in the satisfaction of a job well done. That felt like it would have been the perfect end to that particular journey. Sitting on a chair of power, a symbol of the work he'd done, everything you'd been through together. Fucking you on top of it would have been divine. Wetting the surface with the sweat and sex of celebration.

Briefly, he considered taking you there, fulfilling that hopeful little daydream, but he couldn't risk even a second away from your body, let alone the length of time it would have taken you both to get covertly from his office to where he wanted to indulge in you. And, excited by his own thoughts, he moved things along a little further, hurried and desperate. There could be time made for romance later. This was the middle of the night, confessions and tension breaking. If you'd let him, he would make love to you another time. Right now, though, he wanted to fuck you.

James placed his fingers into the band of your shorts and pulled at them, sliding them down your hips, under your ass, and whisking them away from your body to be tossed onto the floor over his shoulder. He took a moment to appreciate the way your underwear covered you, soft cotton fabric stained by time and wear to a grey colour that he knew had once been pure white, moulded almost perfectly to your mound. And a darker grey just a little out of view, a teasing glimpse at the front that disappeared below you.

Still holding your attention, his eyes on yours, he dropped his hand to the front of your underwear, palm rubbing against your mound as his fingers travelled further down, tickling over your lips and moving to the side. He pulled your underwear across the front of your pussy, exposing it entirely. You closed your eyes and inhaled, acutely aware of his instructions to keep your eyes on him but unable to stop the reaction quick enough. He seemed forgiving though, and in fact, when you managed to open your eyes you found him breaking the contact, instead focused on your sex.

"You're wet. Already."

Before you could answer, trying to find an explanation for your excitement that was a little bit less pathetic than confessing that this was the state you often found yourself around him without the added luxury of his hands on your body, he surprised you once more. Another gasp, this one ending in a squeal of breath as he immediately dipped his middle and ring fingers inside of you. The stiff, thick digits filled you, and you whined a little as he rotated his wrist with them deep within your walls. Just as you got used to the feeling of them in there, exploring your body, he pulled them out and spread the two digits apart, watching strands of your slick stretch and snap and separate as he let out a deep and gravelly, but lighthearted snicker.

"Well, would you look at that. If I didn't know better, I'd say someone really enjoys a bit of playful teasing. Or maybe you just like me a whole lot more than you're ready to confess? Either way, you're lucky. I've got plenty more to give you."

Not content with the efforts of the job he'd already done, James popped his fingers back into his mouth and sucked them completely clean, drawing them down his tongue in a long, leisurely fashion that soaked them in his saliva. Slicked up once again, he pushed them back inside of you, your cunt tightening around them as your body tensed to increase the friction of his touch. But as much as you could feel your body clinging to him, to the feeling of being filled, he removed them once more. It was cruel, teasing, and you imagined he was delighting in the way you whined each time he withdrew the pleasure from you.

He didn't seem to notice though, at least not visibly. Instead, you watched as he gazed at his fingers, once more wet with your arousal, bringing them up to the gaping and healed gap where the top of his nose had once been and inhaling deeply.

"God… you smell good, but you really do taste even better. Here, try it."

James entered you again, two fingers deep, hooked upwards as if he were clawing, scooping your essence from you. Pointer and middle digits joint together, inserted as far into you as you thought he could go. And then, back out and up in front of your face.

"Stick your tongue out."

You did as you were asked, and James was quick to place his two fingers in your mouth. His expression was intense, eyes focused almost unnaturally, and he practically whispered his next words, his rasping vocal chords sending chills through you.

"Suck them."

Again, you obeyed dutifully, closing your lips around his knuckles and beginning to suck his fingers as he closed his eyes. You could taste yourself on him, yes, but below the oddly familiar tang you could taste him too. His skin, his fingers, stained with ink and dust and sweat from the day's work. He opened his eyes, that hard stare back on you as he spoke.

"That's it. Good girl! See how nice it is?"

Sucking harder now, you kept your eyes on his, unblinking almost. Your tongue pushed hard onto the underside of the intruding, yet welcomed, digits, suctioning to them with a tickling sensation. James raised his brow in shock, pulling his fingers out with a sly grin. His eyes narrowed as it spread into his gaunt cheeks.

"Wow. You kept that little secret talent well hidden. I've got a few surprising skills of my own, though."

He fell to his knees with a thud that concerned you a little, his bulk landing on the ground with such a loud thud. But before you could check in on him, he had placed his hands at the top of your thighs and was burying his face between them, his tongue outstretched to draw one lap up the length of your slit.

"Wait, James! Stop!"

His attentive nature had him stopping immediately, and he pulled back his head to look up at you, paused and ready for your next words.

"I'm… I'm close. I don't want to make a mess all… over y-"

"You can make all the mess you want. It's you who'll be cleaning it up in the morning once I've added it to your list of tasks for the day." He flashed a wink at you, smiling more with one side of his mouth than the other. "Now… Was that all? Do you still want me to stop?"

Afraid of seeming too desperate, you remained still for a moment before nodding, trying to keep your head from flailing too wildly.

"Good. I'm glad you've come to your senses. Had me worried for a bit there."

He dove back into you, eating you out like it was an actual meal he missed during the day. He collected your folders between his lips, his tongue caressing and flicking, sucking at you, slick on his tongue, swallowed with eager gasps and gulps. It was hot, wet, sordid and borderline curative. Stress melted away, tensions seemed to ease up, and you felt like you could see auras of colours around the outside edges of your vision.

But it was all over so quickly, a swipe of his tongue, circling your clit a few times after he'd slipped it out of your cunt, and then he stood back up, towering over you, gazing down with blown pupils and wide eyes. He lifted his bare arm to his mouth and chin, wiping it messily, making not much difference at all to the glistening mess that covered the deep scarring of his skin. That same wet hand reached down, and you followed it all the way. He noticed you watching, but you hadn't realised that. You were far too focused on the way his fingers moved, thumb dipped beneath his waist band, moving along, back and forth, his fingers skimming over the fabric on the outside of his jumpsuit before sinking below it.

He pulled his cock free slowly, painfully slow, as you mouthed silent pleas for it without even realising you were doing so. You watched as inch after inch was exposed, thick, scarred like the rest of him, his head oddly smooth the way his tongue was, seemingly protected from most of his exposure to the damaging radiation that changed him. Your mouth watered as you considered the texture of the scars, the far more obvious veins that lined it, the thick rod that ran along the underside.

Before you could ask for the chance to try, however, he was lining it up to your entrance, the heat of it tingling your pussy as he stood awaiting an unasked question that you knew the answer to.

"Please… Please, just do it."

The desperation dripped off of your tongue and past your lips, and he fought, though only barely, to keep the groan building in his throat from roaring out. Instead, he moaned, a delicate sound that fell into a hum as he slid the first couple of inches into you. It stretched you immediately, an ache that coiled your stomach into knots and made your throat feel tight, your chest feel heavier, and your body feel fuller than it had ever been. You were dribbling around him, wet and sticky as he replaced the space inside of your soaked cunt and forced your arousal out of the way.

Fully inside of you, breaching your body in a way you hadn't thought entirely possible, James placed one hand flat on the desk beside you and the other gently on top of your stomach, fingers slipped just under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. He moved his hips back and then forwards again so carefully, like he knew he had the capacity to break you, to do some damage, and that was far from his intentions. He would hate to admit it to you, to protect your ego and his, but he felt so protective of you, so worried when you were at risk of any harm. The last thing he wanted was to be directly responsible for anything bad happening to you.

But eventually, when he had established that you could comfortably take him, he picked up the pace.

It was mesmerising to him, watching the way that your body jiggled with each thrust. How your entire being seemed to be under his control, his influence. Each part of you responsive, physically and emotionally to his movements. If he'd known that being inside of you would have felt this good, that seeing you roll with the waves of his hips would have been so borderline hypnotic, he might have given up his reputation long ago and instead bedded you hard and raw t the first opportunity. Maybe add it to your chore list, a little suggestion, perhaps a touch of coercion, and a little bit of kindness to keep you coming back for more. He hadn't had to, of course, you'd come to him all on your own. Much easier. But now he had to make up the time he'd wasted by now being deep in your warmth all these nights past.

James' palms, textured but not as rough as the rest of his skin, slid up your torso, further under your shirt, and grabbed at your breasts. Hands cupped and squeezed, tight but not painful. Fingers skimmed over your nipples, teasing at them, pulling and pinching and watching how you responded to the different ways he found to touch you. He copied your facial expressions, without even realising he was doing it. When you bit your lip, he pressed his teeth down on his own. When you let your jaw hang loose, mouth open in a sultry gasp, his own lips parted in sync. The only thing different was that when you had closed your eyes, either in gentle pleasure or in tight arousal, he kept his open, almost unblinking, to watch you.

His fingers traced up your sternum now, between your breasts, reaching your collar bone where he lay his arm flat to hold you down flat. His forearm pressed down, not too firmly, and those same fingers now lined your neck, tickling at your throat. He'd reached so far forwards that your shirt had lifted to expose your breasts, and he hissed as he watched you writhe under him. The heel of his palm rested on your shoulder, placed down flat and hard, shoving you downwards and onto him, more of him inside of you, thick and stiff and finding space where you really thought there was none. The fabric of his shirt stretched over his muscles, the veins in his arms below the scarred tissue flexing and pulsing, the stretched and tearing hem of your top somehow managing to keep you on display and keep him tethered to you.

It was unbearable, the heat between you, and while even he had thought he'd gotten as sloppy, as carefree as he could, he was surprised to feel his body ramp up the energy at what he assumed was the last stretch before climax. Rutting, jamming his body inside, close to you, slaps and plaps and huffing pants drowning his senses as he fucked you with one singular goal left. Desperate, clawing hands grabbed at your thighs and tried to push them apart.

"You gotta hng… spread your legs a bit more… Heh… I'm a… Big guy… Make some room…"

The minute you made room for him, he buckled over onto you. Your legs wrapped around his hips, making it more difficult for him to offer as much backswing from his hips, but this was just frantic and foolhardy humping, no thoughts, no desire to pull even an inch of himself back out of you to allow for a more rhythmic thrust. Drool dripped from his lips in a frustrated groan, spattering onto your stomach, his cock leaking precum into you, mixing with your own amply flowing arousal.

With a slight whine, you reached above your head, fingernails clawing in a white knuckle grip on the edge of the desk, and his own hands followed up your arm until his fingers were clasped around yours. He whispered something unintelligible, just loud enough that you opened your eyes and met his, a concerned look on his face, his body not quite letting up in the same caring manner but questioning regardless.

"Are you OK?"

You nodded at first, struggling to find the space to speak, the breath to form the words, clearing your mouth of saliva to stutter out a response.

"Yeah… It just… Little bit painful…"

He didn't let up. Not yet. Not until he knew he had to.

"You want me to stop?"

He grinned wide, heart fluttering as you raised your head to be closer to him, almost growling the words.

"Absolutely not."

A grunt and a chest laugh let you know he appreciated your sentiments, and he went back to jamming himself up and against you. Your whimpers and whines pulled at his heart, and as his body kept up it's brutal but sweet assault on you, he offered you encouragement in a deeper, more gravelly voice that even his usual.

"Just a few more seconds, baby… huff… Almost there… Almost… fuck… There…"

You'd already started cumming, hard, at that point, which helped him along in his pursuit of release.The way he spoke, the way he assured, the way his marred abdomen seemed to rub almost perfectly against your clit as he stuffed himself into your raw and glistening cunt had almost guaranteed a blinding climax, and you let yourself ride the waves of it as your body tensed and rose off the table, meeting him even closer if that had been possible.

"Little bit longer… Puff… There we go… Aw… Hhh… Shit, that's… That's it… There! We! GO! That is IT, baby!"

He'd never thought of himself as the type to talk during, and certainly not like that if he had. But James was learning a lot about himself during this torrid encounter. He just hoped you didn't mind it too much. But given that you'd collapsed backwards and down flat after your own back arching, screeching orgasm, he assumed you at least weren't bothered, if not ecstatically thrilled by his dialogue.

As it turned out, another new realisation was that he wasn't one for lingering. By the time you'd raised yourself onto your elbows, he was already sheepishly shrugging his jumpsuit back over his shoulders and trying to smooth out the front of it, as though external neatness could cover up the tension and the sickly sweet smell of sex in his office. So you followed suit, clothing yourself and standing awkwardly as you both tried to find the right words to say in such circumstances. Luckily for you, James was the first to break the silence, which wasn't awkward but wasn't exactly as forthcoming or comfortable as the sounds of you both exerting your everything into the shared mutual aim of satisfaction.

"That… That was good. You were good- I mean, you are good. Or… Something a little less condescending. Wouldn't want to put you off coming to me in the future if you… needed anything from me."

Without considering the repercussions of such an audaciously intimate move, you placed your palm on his cheek and stroked his deeply scarred skin with your thumb.

"Oh, you couldn't keep me away if you tried."

His smile was warm, bright, and it stayed on his lips as he leaned in to kiss you. Even when he pulled back, the two of you staring into each others' eyes, the grin stayed. But eventually, you realised you were the one who would have to make the first move to break off the moment and end your time together that evening. You were in his space. So, very slowly, you pulled your hand back and shrugged with an exhale. There wasn't going to be a perfect thing to say, so you said what came first and easiest.

"Have a good night, James. Try and get some sleep at some point."

You began to leave, not wanting to overstay your welcome and sour the surprisingly emotional

"Yeah, you too. And hey!" He called out to you so firmly and you turned to listen, rendered breathless by the smile you caught on his face and the slight colour change in his cheeks, not just brought about by the heat you both had made in the room. "I've said it before, but it's worth repeating. Don't be a stranger."