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His vision vignettes as he pours another sugar into his styrofoam cup of coffee. He only likes two, but now he’s lost count, opening packet after packet just to give himself an excuse to stay here.

Morning light pours in through the open windows on the east side of the office building, bathing you in gold. You’re so bright and beautiful, Keys can hardly even look at you. 

Briana’s voice filters through his thoughts, tuning him back into the conversation. “I like him and everything, but the sex is just—I don’t know—”

“Bland?” you offer. 

Briana pauses, giving you a weighted look before correcting. “Silent.”

You make a sympathetic sound, oblivious to your eavesdropper, whose cheeks are turning a charming shade of pink. 

“There’s nothing worse than a silent man in bed,” you say, stirring your coffee. “I mean, we want to hear what we’re doing to them, you know? Like, moaning a little won’t kill them. And add in a little dirty talk? God, that shit never fails to get me off.”

Another sugar packet rips in his fingers and he pours without really thinking. Good lord, this coffee is going to be undrinkable.

But the cup of joe is the literal least of his worries, since he’s shoving his hips up against the edge of the table just to keep from getting a hard at hearing you talk like that. You’re his co-worker. You sit across from him every day.

He can’t be getting hard at work. And especially, not right next to you. 

“Exactly!” Briana groans, enthusiastically. “So, I don’t know what to do about it.”

Keys’ head turns towards the open office floor, but his feet feel like they’ve grown roots, planting him right there in the dingy carpet, forcing him to listen. 

You hum, a familiar sound that means you’re thinking. “Well, if he’s into it, maybe listen to some spicy audios together? There are some really talented creators out there that can give you both some inspiration.”

He glances up just in time to watch Briana’s dark eyes cut over to you mischievously as she takes a sip. 

“Good idea,” she says, “I’m going to…” 

Somehow, Keys finally uproots himself and slips away with his cup of sugary bean water. 

He barely registers the rows of cubicles and windows swirling around him in colors of gray, blue, white, and black, too busy replaying your words over and over in his head.

…nothing worse than a silent man in bed.

…add in a little dirty talk?

…never fails to get me off.

His office chair squeaks under his weight and his glasses land on his desk with a clatter. Planting his elbows on his armrests, he breathes a deep sigh and scrubs his hands over his face. 

Focus, Keys. 

He replaces his glasses, and shifts forward in his chair, forcing his eyes back to his waiting code. The predictability of numbers—those never changing zeros and ones—usually settles him. But, not today. 

He tries hard to force all thoughts of you from his head but—oh, it’s useless. 

There you are, spread out on his navy sheets, writhing underneath him. His mouth trails soft kisses down your throat, over your shoulder, and lower…

You let out a needy whine, hands twisting up in his hair, legs parting for him on instinct. And in his imagination, he opens his mouth to say something hot—anything—but no words come. He wouldn’t know what to say. 

He has a few trademark moves in bed. I mean, who doesn’t? And the girls he’s been with always leave happy. 

But…is he silent? He doesn’t really know, actually. Never recorded himself…or anything…maybe he should—

“You good?” 

The world whips back into focus, and Keys jumps in his chair. Suddenly, the overhead light’s too bright, and the AC feels like an icy blast, and you’re there, standing over your desk, staring at him with concern. 

“What?” he squeaks, then clears his throat. “Y-yeah. Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, and take your seat across from him. “I don’t know, you just look…tired, I guess.”

He just grunts and returns his gaze to his computer screen. “Just…work stuff.”

You hum in agreement and turn back to your screen as well. 

As much as he bitches about being shoved up in the corner of the floor, the only space with a huge window immediately to his left, the spot really does have its perks. 

It’s annoying because it’s so bright he has to squint to see his screen most of the time. But the way the sun shines through the blinds, painting you in thin lines of shadow, lighting up your eyes and lashes?

He wouldn’t trade this spot for anything. 

Shit. Now he’s staring. 

Irritated, he forces his gaze away and pushes his glasses up higher on his nose. 

His hand finds his mouse and he navigates to his work, but for one fleeting second, his curser hovers over the new tab button. 

Now, Keys is a complete and total nerd, so, of course he’s no stranger to the internet. Especially the deep, dark parts of it. He’s fallen victim to those late night deep dives on reddit pages more times than he can count. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he remembers coming across those ‘spicy audios’ you gushed about earlier. 

What did you call them? Talented creators? Which ones were you talking about? What things did they say? What did you like about it?

All it would take is a few clicks on his keyboard, and he’d get all those answers to his questions. But he quickly shakes his head to clear it and pulls up his code with a guilty look over his shoulder.

The white wall stares at him, disapproving. 

What the fuck has gotten into him? He cannot be looking this shit up at work! 

He really has it bad.

When he’s back home, in the comfort of his own gaming desk, only then will he let himself investigate this newfound scrap of information on you. 

Later, he promises himself. Later. 

Well, it’s later. 

And Keys hasn’t got a single fucking line of code done yet. 

Which is why he’s stuck at work late, miserably trying to catch up on his project after everyone else has left for the day.

Everyone, that is, except for you.

Apparently, you also got behind, and you can’t afford to. Not with the new launch coming up.

Vinny came by to collect the trash a while back, and he didn’t see you in the back corner, so he turned off the lights, plunging you both into darkness. Neither of you have gotten up to turn them back on, choosing instead to work by the dim lights of your computer monitors. And even though the two of you keep saying you’re going to leave “any minute,” those minutes turn to hours, and you’re both still here. 

Alone.

The printer hums in the corner, and that blinking blue light on the side is driving Keys crazy. It keeps catching in the edge of his glasses, and the clicking of your mouse fills his ears. 

It’s constant. Unlike his. Which means you’re actually getting work done. Unlike him. 

Finally, your voice breaks the silence. 

“The street’s kinda loud tonight, isn’t it?”

Keys makes a noncommittal sound in this throat and doesn’t look up. 

Honestly, he hasn’t noticed the traffic humming far below the window, and he’s trying so hard not to look at you, not to think about you, that he doesn’t notice when you reach across over and grab his headphones by accident. 

It’s easy to get them confused. They look exactly the same, tangled up together at the edge of where your desks meet. Black. Standard issue. Company logo on the side. 

When Keys glances up and sees you with the headphones on, he sighs quietly in relief. 

It’s ridiculous, but up until this moment, he was hyper-aware of everything he was doing. Was he breathing too loudly? Could you hear his heartbeat? Was he readjusting himself too much when every thought of you in his bed gave him a hard-on? 

He tries to focus, he really does, but the numbers blur together on his screen. 

Music. 

That’s what he needs. 

He grabs the other pair of headphones, and when he settles them over his head, all he can hear is his own heartbeat slamming in his ears, reminding him of what a fucking loser he is. 

He should just ask you out. Like a normal person. But no. 

The foam cuffs press into the ear piece of his glasses, reminding him why he usually prefers the wired earbuds. But he’s lost them somewhere, and he can’t afford to go looking at the moment. 

The click of his mouse is silenced as he maneuvers it to pull up his music library. But, his cursor gets distracted on the way, hovering over that damn new tab icon in the corner.

He risks another peek at you. 

Your brows furrow and you readjust your headphones, eyes still on your screen.

Resisting the urge to scrub a hand over his face in frustration, he turns his gaze back to his computer. If he’s honest with himself, he won’t be able to get any substantial work done until he satisfies his curiosity.

It’s risky, doing this at work. But there’s no way you can hear anything, and Keys is getting desperate. 

After a few hasty searches, he’s navigating the depths of…erotic audios. 

His eyes widen as he scrolls past the sprawling inventory of tropes and storylines. There are so many different kinds of fantasies, how would he know what you’re into? He leans in closer, scrolling carefully down the list until he hesitates on one in particular. 

Talk Nerdy To Me. 

The small blurb underneath catches his eye. 

Your tutor tries a new tactic to get you to study for your big test. Just how sexual can his acronyms get before you decide to study anatomy a different way?

His cursor hovers over the LISTEN NOW button. 

This is harmless enough, right? There’s even a little story. Like an audio book. Just way shorter. And way more explicit. And…yeah, this is so wrong, on so many levels. 

Beneath his conscience, however, sits a burning curiosity. Keys is analytic at heart. If there’s a question, he wants to find the answer. And, if listening to this will help him figure out what to say in bed…

Fuck it. 

The silenced click of his mouse through his headphones is as loud as a gunshot.

He waits, breath caught in his chest, heel tapping restlessly on the carpet as the little blue progress bar starts to move. 

But he doesn’t hear anything. 

He frowns and readjusts his headphones. 

Nothing. 

On impulse, he skips to the middle. Just in case there was a silent lull there at the beginning. 

Still nothing. 

He leans towards the screen nervously, and as he shifts, he glimpses you from behind your computer screen—and freezes. 

You’re staring at him, cheeks flush in the dim lighting, chest fluttering with every breath. And small smirk begins at the corner of your mouth. It’s rueful and sinful, and… 

His stomach drops. 

Oh no. It’s in your headphones, isn’t it?

Oh, no, no, no, no—

His heart leaps in his chest as his hand flies to his mouse, scrambling to turn it off. 

Oh, God, where’s the stop button? 

There. That’s pause. Oh—he accidentally presses it twice. Now it’s playing again. 

HOW DO YOU CLOSE THIS FUCKING THING?

You chuckle breathlessly, watching your genius coworker—who can code literally anything, by the way— flail around like a fish out of water when all he has to do is simply push the little red X on the top right of his screen. 

The mouse starts to slip around in his sweaty palm and Keys gives up, slamming the power button on his computer, and enveloping the both of you in silence. 

You stare at each other over your desks for a long second. 

Then, Keys rips his headphones off and rakes a hand through his hair. 

See? This is what he gets for being fucking curious. It gets him in trouble. He just needs to stick with what he knows—

He opens his mouth to apologize, to explain, to—beg for his dignity back? But you just slip the headphones down to hang around your throat and level his gaze with a soft smile. 

“Was that Bennett Brooks?” 

“W-what?” Keys croaks, shoving his glasses further onto his burning face. 

“I recognize the voice actor. Haven't heard his stuff in forever, though. He’s good—voice is a little raspy for my taste,” you shrug prettily. “But good.”

He swallows. “Oh.” 

The silent office presses in around you, so quiet he can almost hear your lashes click together when you blink at him. Suddenly, you whip his headphones off your neck and thrust them onto his desk. 

They land with a clatter. 

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to take yours. By all means, don’t stop on my account.”

Keys lets out a choked sound, caught somewhere between a laugh and a cough. This is definitely making it into the top three most embarrassing moments of his life. 

“I’m n-not...” he stammers, “Not into that. Like…that.”

You shoot him a knowing look. “No?”

“No! Listen, I just—” he scrambles for an explanation as you just fucking sit there watching him. Smiling at him. “It was just research. Okay? Not a big deal—” 

The words barely escape his lips before he realizes his mistake. 

“Research?“ Your eyes light up and you lean forward in your seat. His eyes drop to the white V-neck button down you’re wearing—that third button you leave unfastened haunts him every single day. “Research is my specialty, Keys.”

Yes, he knows that. You’re a data analyst for the company. One of the best in the region, actually, wasting your time at the desk next to his. He should apologize again, or confess he overheard your conversation at the coffee bar. 

But the embarrassment burns hot, so instead, he clears his throat and hooks a finger in his shirt collar that’s currently suffocating him.

“It’s stupid, really,” Keys says at long last, and he hates how it comes out crackly. He clears his throat again, like that will help dislodge the panic in his chest. 

It doesn’t. 

You shrug, tilting your head in that cute way you do. “Didn’t sound stupid to me.”

You’re being so nice about it. Why are you always so nice?  “You know, I could help.” Your eyes linger on him and the air seems to grow ten degrees hotter. Then softer, you add, “…if you want.”

And just like that, all thoughts of project and deadlines glitch and vanish from his mind like a crashed browser. 

He’s nodding before he’s even really given it much thought.  

You smile and sit up in your chair. God, you’re radiant. “Okay. Let’s start with what exactly you want to research. Is it audios, specifically? Or—”

“No, no, it’s just…I think I…” Keys’ bottom lip catches between his teeth before he heaves out a heavy breath. “I want to get better. I guess.”

“Better at what? Sex?”

This time, Keys doesn’t hesitate. “Dirty talk.”

“Oh.” Your eyes flick to his lips for a split second before meeting his again. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.”

Keys adjusts in his chair, his dick is already twitching in his pants. “Yeah? So, you like this sort of thing? Guys’ voices dirty talking you and stuff. That…” He swallows hard. “Gets you off?”

You shrug again casually, like you’re talking about the weather. “It’s one way, yeah.”

Keys nods again. Too fast. Way too fucking fast. 

“So, do you have anyone in mind?” You ask. 

His pulse leaps. “What?”

“Well, you’ve got to be researching this for a reason, right? I mean, curiosity is a valid enough, don’t get me wrong. But is there someone…?” you trail off, unsure of how to finish. 

A silent moment stretches out between you as Keys decides how to answer. The digital clock on the wall, the rise and fade of the passing lights, all seem to look between you—waiting for something. 

Finally, Keys sighs. “Well, there is this girl.”

“Aha!” You lean your elbows on your desk, eyes brightening with interest. “Tell me.”

“It’s new. Like—” he chuckles, averting his gaze. “Really new. So.”

“It’s okay, Keys. We’re friends! We can talk about this kind of stuff.”

“I know!” he says defensively, although he’s not really sure why. “She’s just…into this sort of thing. Dirty talk. I think.”

“You think.”

“Yeah.”

You nod slowly, encouraging, if not a little teasing. “Okay…so, give me the rundown here. When’s your next date?”

“Uh. First one, actually. And…it’s…Thursday,” Keys stammers. 

“Thursday? Okay.” You look out the window. A passing car’s headlights shine across your face for a second before the computer light consumes you again. “Lucky girl. Where are you taking her? I mean—before the inevitable trip back to your place.”

 You swallow hard and busy yourself with re-organizing your pen cup as he scrambles for an answer. 

Chinese. 

You love that. 

He knows because the one time he picked you up for work when your car was in the shop, he caught a glimpse of your apartment through your front door. Your coffee table was littered with little takeout boxes, and he filed that away like a crow picking up a shiny screw and calling it a treasure. 

Yeah, he has it bad. 

“Uh. I was thinking that Chinese joint on the corner of Cross and Elm."

Your jaw drops. “I love that place!”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, raking a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know.”

When you look up at him again, there’s a hint of a smile on your lips.

“Okay, so, we have three days to prepare you. What questions do you have?”

Leave it to you to make this sound like a standardized research paper. Well, now’s a good a chance as ever. He might never get this chance again.

Keys straightens in his chair, heel tapping the carpet so fast his leg is bouncing. 

“What do you—do girls,” he quickly corrects himself, “—want guys to say?” 

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Heat rushes to his face. “I mean, like, do they tell you how to…touch yourself? I don’t—I can’t even—”

“You’re overthinking it. There’s no magical combination of words to use." You gesture to his computer. "Here, let’s listen to the audio, it’ll help me explain—”

“Oh, no! We don’t have to do that!” Keys squeaks. 

You shoot him a look. “You said this is for research, right?”

“Yeah! Obviously. Totally.”

“Then you can’t half-ass it. If you really want to learn how to dirty talk for this girl, you gotta commit.”

He hesitates. 

“C’mon, Keys.” Your teeth close over the end of your pen and you gesture to his computer with your eyes, smirking as you settle into your chair. “Press play.”

Fuck. 

Your coworker, Keys, has been acting weird as fuck all day, and now you finally know why. 

He totally overheard your conversation with Briana at the coffee bar, earlier. 

Maybe it had something to do with the way you raised your voice on purpose, hoping to get through that head of hair and those brown eyes that seem to see everything except all the signals you’ve been dropping his way since you first started here. 

From behind your desk, you watch him eye the power switch on his computer like it’s some gigantic red button that says ‘don’t touch’ or else it will somehow World War III. 

Come to think of it, you might start World War III if it means getting your oblivious-as-he-is-cute-coworker to finally make a real move. 

Still, though, there’s a part of you that feels for the guy. He’s so nice, and good, and sweet, and fuck if you don’t want him to corrupt him a little.

Only in the ways he wants to be corrupted, of course. Which, apparently, involves digging into ancient audio porn on reddit after work hours. 

Oh, you are so into it. 

“Why are you so embarrassed, Keys?” you say gently. “Look, this is normal, okay? Being curious. And you want to make this girl feel good, right?”

The girl has to be you.

After all those coffees he’s brought you from that fancy place that he insists only adds three minutes to his commute, but in reality, probably adds, like, twenty? And the way his hand accidentally finds ways to brush yours, and then he acts as if he’s not jumping out of his skin at the contact?

If this girl is not you, then this crush you have on your nerdy, hot co-worker is about to be devastating. 

Keys blows out a breath. “Okay, fine.” 

His computer powers up with a familiar hum, and blue light cascades over his features again. 

God, he looks nervous. Why is that such a turn-on?

He looks so alone over there behind his desk as one lock of brown hair falls over his eyes, brushing the rim of his glasses, and suddenly, you get an idea. 

“Wait, actually, no—” you mutter, standing up from your chair. 

Keys jumps like you’ve shot him. “Yeah,” he says, scrambling to turn distract himself with something else on his computer. “Yeah! No, we don’t—this is—”

“—I’m coming over there.”

“What?” Keys’ gaze snaps to yours. Then, he gestures to the space beside him in his workspace. “Here?” 

But you’re already rolling your chair over the carpet and behind his desk. It’s a tight fit, with these ergonomic chairs. Their wide armrests knock together as you slide in beside him. 

Keys’ cubicle is different. 

Technically, it’s the exact same as yours. The dimensions are the same, as well as your surroundings, but it smells like his cologne, and there’s that stack of board games he keeps hidden under his desk. 

“Okay,” you sigh, settling back in your chair. “If we’re going to do this, we do it right. Which means, starting from the top. Clearly, you know nothing of the subject—”

“I—” he starts, but you shoot him a look that has his jaw snapping shut. 

“Now, dirty talk is a broad subject, so, what kinds of things are you into?”

Keys shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess, it depends on what she’s into. I mean…” He threads his fingers behind his head and leans back in his computer chair in an obvious attempt at casualness. “What are you into?”

Smooth. Real smooth. 

You decide to go along with it. 

“I like a little of everything. Praise, instruction, degradation, fantasizing…but not every girl is the same—”

“Okay, let’s just do that, then,” he cuts you off, nodding once like it’s been decided. 

You have to bite your lip to keep from smiling. “Okay, I’ll press play.” 

You shift lean forward and your palm closes over his mouse. It’s slightly damp, like Keys’ fingers were clammy when he last touched it. 

“Wait!” His hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. “Like…out loud?”

You gesture to the darkness beyond. “Keys, no one is here.”

“No, I know, but…” his eyes sweep the empty floor, shoulder hunched to his ears. “Okay fine, just do it.”

You nod and turn back to the monitor. “We’ll just pick up where you left off, okay?”

“Oh. I didn’t—”

Bennet Brook’s voice cuts him off, filtering through Keys’ computer speakers with that deep, raspy voice of his. 

“—was pretty good. Okay, now let’s do the carpal bones. I have a mnemonic for this, actually, you want to hear it? Okay. Some Lovers Try Positions That They Can’t Handle. Yeah, it’s a little…suggestive? It just—it helps people remember okay? Yes! The sluttier the better. Look, it goes from thumb to pinky proximally, then pinky to thumb distally. Here, I’ll show you…”

You risk a glance over at Keys. He sits perfectly still, breath bated as Bennett leads the listener through the scene. 

“Now you’re getting distracted,” Bennet laughs breathlessly. “What positions do I—I’m trying to help you study. Oh my god, you’re so annoying. Look. If I answer, will you study? Yeah? Okay, fine. My favorite is—”

You reach forward and press pause. The silence in the office rushes in to fill the empty space, and your stomach swoops as you turn to Keys. 

“What’s your favorite sex position?” you ask abruptly. 

He looks at you, eyes wide. You don’t miss the way his knuckles whiten around his arm rest, clearly doing that thing where he resists the urge to push his glasses up again out of habit.

“What does this have to do with—”

You sigh. “Just trust me, and answer the question.”

“Uh…missionary?”

“God, okay.” You roll your eyes and reach over to hit resume again. “That’s such a lie, but whatever.”

Keys stops you with that hand on your wrist again. “Wha—lie?”

“Yes. Lie.”

He finally turns to face you, incredulous. “Oh, and you’re suddenly an expert on what I like in bed?”

Heat shoots down your spine at his words, but you just scoff. “You play as a fucking stripper cop in Free City. Now, tell me the real answer.”

After a moment Keys groans, then looks away. “I don’t know the word for it. Like, the name, or whatever.”

“Oh! That’s not a problem.” 

You reach for his keyboard, and before he knows what’s happening, you’re opening a new tab, and then, right in front of him, is a list of sex positions. 

With pictures. 

“Jesus!” He hisses, looking over his shoulder as if the wall behind you is somehow going to open up and reveal your boss or something. “I’m going to have to scrub my search history clean after this.”

“Relax,” you say, settling back in your chair. “Now, point.”

Keys lets out a heavy, resigned sigh and sits forward, squinting at the screen. Ten seconds later, he shakes his head. 

“It’s not there.”

When he looks over at you, he immediately rolls his eyes, because the look on your face is the clearest I-told-you-so look he’s ever received. 

“God, with how freaky you are, Keys, it’s a wonder you’re silent in bed—”

“Hey!” He interjects, glaring over at you. “I never said—woah, okay, why are you standing up? What are you doing?”

You plant hands on your hips, looking down at him. “Look, just maneuver me into whatever position it is, and I’ll find the name of it for you.”

“This is ridiculous.”

You huff. “This is a part of the research. If you don’t want my help, that’s fine, we—”

Without looking, he reaches out and grabs your waist. The warmth of his skin bleeds through your thin work shirt and a surprised squeak escapes you as he tugs you down.

You land in his lap with an undignified plop, facing him. Your stomach plummets as his knee presses against your core, but he makes a disgruntled sound, and grabs your thigh, pulling one leg up and over until you’re straddling him. 

Your pulse hammers in your ears as you steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders and peer down at him. 

The dim blue glow of the computer reflects in his glasses and as his gaze meets yours, his expression makes your chest ache. There’s something so sweet there. Soft. Like flower petals against your skin. Fragile, too. 

“This is it?” you whisper.

A small smirk crosses his lips. 

“Okay, so, this is just straddling…” you say, but your voice trails off as his hands spread over your waist. They’re so big. How have you never noticed how big his hands were before?

You swallow hard. “Or, I think, it’s technically called seated cowgirl.”

“Really?” he asks, squinting up at you with a hint of cockiness you could get drunk on.

In your next breath, Keys’s fingers dig into your hips, and he spins you around on his lap. His chest is warm against your back, and his computer desk digs into your belly. You wiggle your hips back slightly to get away from the sharp edge, but still when his hard length presses into your clothed core. 

“What’s this one called?” His voice is deeper now, threaded with heat, and it makes your hands clench against the cool metal of his desk. 

“Reverse seated cowgirl,” you say, fighting to keep your tone even. “So, this is your favorite? Tell me why.”

His breath stalls in his chest, you can feel the way he hesitates against your spine.

The printer hums in the far corner of the office, and a car horn blares distantly from the street below. 

After a long moment, he exhales, and his breath ghosts over your ear, making your lashes flutter. 

“I like the view,” he admits softly. “Painted in blue-light, all needy—” Then, he lets out a quiet, “Fuck.”

Heat pools deep in your belly. He sounds…wrecked. Already. And you’re just sitting in his lap fully clothed. 

God, you could make this man beg. 

You tilt forward and look over your shoulder. His eyes lift to yours, then drag down to your mouth, your hips, and his bottom lip disappears between his teeth.

“What else?” you whisper.  

He doesn’t hesitate this time. “I like the control of it, you know? Like—” he huffs out a quiet laugh, like he can’t believe he’s saying these things. “Like maybe I’m just playing a video game, and making you keep my cock warm. And you just… just have to sit there and take it.”

His words—so filthy and shy—stir hot embers of arousal between your hips. 

“Shit, Keys,” you say with a breathless laugh. “That was so good!”

His eyes meet yours again. “Really?”

“Yeah! Okay, I’m pushing play again. I’ll skip forward a little, too, just so we get to the good stuff.”

He clears his throat. “You’re going to stay right here?” He taps your leg and his fingers linger on your skin. 

You pretend to jolt in his hold. “Oh! Sorry, I can move if you—”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “It’s fine.” 

‘It’s fine’, he says, as if he’s not raging hard underneath you, holding onto your leg like he might die if you slid off him right now. 

He’s too easy. 

You press play. 

Immediately, sounds of kissing and rustling fill the room. Keys inhales sharply, his erection growing against your ass, and you barely resist the urge to grind down on him. 

“That’s it,” Bennet croons. “You take it so good for me, baby. Fuck, you’re incredible.”

The wet sound of hips meeting has Keys’ mouth dropping open. His eyes dart off the screen, like watching the loading bar is somehow equivalent to seeing these imaginary people fuck. 

“That’s praise,” you whisper over your shoulder. “Obviously.”

Keys looks at you, then. Really looks at you. You can feel the way he takes in the slight shift of your hips as you try to find some friction to release the building ache. 

He’s reading you. Analyzing the data. Recalculating.

Classic Keys. 

The sight pulls at something in your chest. Truthfully, that’s the reason you like him so damn much, the reason you’re pulled to him like a ship to a lighthouse. 

Because with Keys, you would be fully, and utterly known. 

“…always so needy?” Bennet groans. “Just wanna be bent over a desk and fucked, huh, baby? This what you need? So dirty, I swear to God.”

“Degradation,” you murmur, turning back to the computer. 

Bennett keeps going. “Oh yeah, just like that? C’mon, baby. Tell me what you want. Use your words.”

 “Instruction,” Keys says, beating you to the punch. 

You’re grateful your back is to him so he can’t see your self-indulgent smile. 

“…thought about this a lot,” Bennet groans, the sound effects growing faster and louder. “Like in the library on campus? When we’re trying to study but you’re sitting across from me, and I can’t focus…”

Your breath catches at the exact same second Keys goes still beneath you. 

“…I see it, you know. The way your hand brushes mine when you hand me a pencil. You think I don’t notice? Fuck—of course I’ve thought about you. Are you kidding? Every time I jerk my cock I think about you. How you’d sound when I’m fucking up into you like this. Oh, you like that, huh? Get you so cock drunk— oh, baby, that’s it—”

You swallow hard, mouth suddenly gone dry. 

That’s fantasizing.

But for some reason, you can’t even bring yourself to repeat it. To solidify it. To make it any realer than it already is. 

Can Keys tell how much you relate to Bennett's words? That every time you’re in bed at night, thoughts of him keep you up late, you’re rubbing your aching cunt, whining his name into the empty ceiling?

You’re soaking through your underwear now, but mostly from listening to Keys’ uneven breathing behind you. His fingers flex over and over against your work skirt, like he can’t quite get up the courage to slip them under the hem that’s riding up your bare thighs. 

In an effort to relieve his aching erection, Keys shifts in his chair. It’s a small enough movement, but it’s just enough to send his elbow into a cup on his desk. It falls with a dull thud, the water inside instantly soaking into the carpet.

You smack the space bar on his keyboard, cutting Bennet off mid-moan, and leap to your feet. 

Keys cringes and moves to stand, but you disappear behind your desk before he can blink, and reappear a second later with a roll of paper towels. 

“Here,” you say gently as you kneel in front of him. “Let me.”

Keys reaches down at the same time you raise up on your knees, and when you lift your chin, you find your faces only an inch apart. 

He doesn’t jerk back like you expect. Instead, he just finds the paper towel on the ground and gently pries your fingers off it, resuming the blotting himself. 

Your hands find purchase on his knees for balance, and they spread wider under your touch, almost subconsciously. 

Almost. 

You swallow. “Keys?” 

His shoulder muscles flex under his T-shirt as he works. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to keep listening to the audio…or…do you want to practice?”

“Practice?” He doesn’t look up, but his voice cracks. 

“Only if you want.”

Keys sits back into his chair, tossing the wet paper towel into the nearby waste basket. Then his eyes settle on you for what feels like the first time all night. 

Through his work khakis’, his erection presses an angry imprint. God, it looks so hard it probably hurts, confined like that. The air between you shimmers with that unsaid tension, the kind that releases butterflies in your stomach and in the chambers of your heart. 

But while exciting, it’s equally terrifying, putting yourself on display like this. You feel strangely vulnerable, even though you were just teasing him a few seconds earlier. 

“What are you thinking about right now?” you ask, voice soft. 

Keys looks away, jaw clenching. 

Suddenly, you wonder if you’ve misread this. Have you made him uncomfortable? What if there actually is a girl, and it’s not you, and you’ve just—

“Your mouth,” Keys says, cutting off your thoughts. 

Hope renewed, your gaze snaps to his. 

“Where?” 

He rakes a hand through his hair, and his glasses slant adorably on his nose with the motion. His chest rises and falls once, twice, and then he whispers, “My cock.”

God, just hearing him say that makes your panties slick. 

“Good,” you breathe. “Now, put it together.”

He huffs, a surprised laugh slipping from him before the heat returns to his gaze.  “I’m thinking about your mouth on my cock.”

The damp carpet fibers dig into your knees as you watch his Adam’s apple bob on a swallow.

“Do you want me to do that?” you ask carefully. 

There’s a certain irreversible tension sitting between you right now. It feels a little like waiting behind an ancient door, not sure if it will creak open and invite you in or vanish into a cloud of dust. 

After a long moment, Keys nods.

A triumphant thrill zips through you, but you keep yourself together and hold his gaze. “You have to say it—”

“Fuck, I want it.” The words rush out of him in a gasp, like they’ve been sitting behind his teeth, waiting their turn the whole night. “I want my cock in your mouth. Please.”

He’s barely got the words out before your fingers fly to his zipper. 

“Forgot about begging,” you mutter more to yourself, but he hears you anyway. 

How could you have forgotten that very important category of dirty talk? It’s one of your favorites, and it flew from his lips unprompted. 

He’s perfect. 

“W-what about the—cameras,” he protests weakly, even as his hips lift from the chair to help you slide his pants down his thighs. 

“The cameras don’t reach back here,” you assure him.

Hooking a finger in the band his underwear, you pull them down and reveal his cock. It sits hard and heavy against the happy trail on his lower stomach.

He sputters. “W-what? Wait—really? How do you know that?”

It’s only natural, digging into dark spots in the security systems at a new job. Especially when you have a coworker as hot as Walter McKeys.

Instead of answering, though, you shuffle forward and take him in your hands. His head tips back on a ragged groan and you relish the hot, velvety feel of him. It’s long and hard, and somehow, you always knew Keys would have a big dick. 

It’s always the nerds. 

Your pussy throbs, fluttering around nothing as you imagine him easing his length inside your slick core, whispering in your ear, telling you how well you’re doing, how much he’s wanted this. 

Keys sits ramrod straight, breathing sharply through his nose as you let your hands explore him. You stroke him from base to tip, fondle his balls, then reach down and palm his thighs. His stomach flexes beneath his shirt, and on impulse, you reach up and lift it until the fabric bunches just below his ribs. 

Soft tummy with muscles flexing underneath. A dark happy trail leading down. A glimpse of thicker hair littered across his chest. 

God, he’s delicious. 

What you wouldn’t give to have this man naked in your bed right now. Saliva builds in your mouth at the thought.

Can you die by horniness? Better research that later. 

You stroke him firmly a few times, and when you lean down, he groans softly.  

Glancing up, you search for any sign to stop, but his eyes aren’t on yours anymore.  They’re glued to your chest. 

You tilt your chin down to see what he’s looking at. 

The three unfastened buttons of your work shirt give him a clear view of your cleavage, and the glow of the computer monitor illuminates the dips and valleys prettily.

A relieved gasp escapes him as your hands start undoing the rest of the buttons. He nods as if you read his mind when your shirt falls open, revealing your black bra. 

Thank God it’s your cute one. Not lingerie by any means, but your nipples harden under his gaze, poking against the fabric. 

You keep your shirt hanging loosely over your shoulders, just in case someone were to walk in. Although very unlikely, the thought of getting caught with Keys still shoots a wicked jolt of pleasure through you. 

Wordlessly, you run your hands up his legs again until your fingers find his cock and resume your attention. 

Keys says something—more like whines it—but it’s too quiet for you to hear. The carpet presses into your knees as you lean in. His thick thighs bracket your shoulders, and when your breath ghosts across the head of his cock, they go hard as rocks. He makes a muffled sound in the back of his throat, then clears it roughly. 

You lean back to catch his eye. 

“Whatever your voice, or breath, wants to do…just let it happen,” you say. “Don’t worry about being loud, there’s no one here.”

He nods, drunk on the sight of you, desperate for your mouth. 

Those big hands reach down and gather your hair, and you scoot even closer, close enough to tap his dick against your lips with a soft smack. When you blink up at him, Keys curses under his breath, then stops himself. 

“Stop swallowing it down,” you chide. “Let me hear.”

Before he can say—or do—anything, you lick a broad, wet stripe up his length. His hips jerk in your hold, a ragged moan tumbling from his lips, unabashed. Your eyes shine with pride when you look up at him. And fuck, he’ll do anything to see that look again. 

You stroke him lazily. Like you have all the the time in the world here in the office after hours. Like you’ve been thinking about it for a long, long, time. 

Drool pools in your mouth as you coat him with your tongue. Then, your lips wrap around him and you slowly work your way down, inch by inch, listening to his whimpers, feeling the way his body vibrates underneath you. 

He’s still holding himself back, so you draw back up and suck gently on his tip before popping off him.

“Sorry,” he gasps. “Fu-forgot I was supposed to talk.”

You nod. “That’s okay. How do you like it?”

He starts to respond, but you envelop him in your warm, wet mouth again, and all words die on his lips. 

“Feels so good, I can’t—can’t—mmmph,” he groans as you relax your jaw and take him deeper, then whimpers pitifully when you come off him again. “My brain’s fried. Like, actually short circuited. I can’t think—”

You press your tits together and tilt your head. “It feels good, right?”

He chuckles, a ragged soft sound. “Fuck—yeah.”

“Just talk to me, then,” you murmur, fluttering your tongue along the ridge of his cock as it twitches in your hold. 

Something seems to click in his mind at those words, and his eyes harden as he stares down at you.

“You want to know why I’m always so tired?” he says, chest heaving. “I stay up all night, trying to get the work done I should be doing when I’m sitting at my desk. But I can’t. Because I’m—fucking hard—all the time. Because of you!”

You decide to reward him for that little speech—a great example of fantasizing and degradation—and relax your jaw again, sliding him deep into your throat. Deeper than before. Keys throws his head back on a groan. The stretch brings tears to your eyes, but you blink them back so you can look at him properly. 

His hair looks so pretty illuminated in soft streaks of blue from the computer, and gold from the street far below. Like a painting. 

Arousal floods your core, coating your underwear, and you can feel your clit pulsing in time with your heartbeat. 

You slide up and off of him to let your lungs expand and he inhales with you, like that took his breath away as much as it did yours. 

“Can’t stop thinking about what you’d feel like under me,” Keys pants. He watches you with heated eyes as you suck on his tip, stroking the rest of him steadily with both hands. “Or—or on top of me. What you’d t-taste like.”

Without thinking, you shove two fingers past your waistband, and straight through your soaked folds. The contact has you moaning around his cock, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure down his spine. 

Then, you slowly withdraw them. They glisten in the glow of the monitor as you raise them up to his face, and Keys wastes no time leaning forward and capturing them in his mouth. His tongue strokes up to your knuckles eagerly, and as the first taste of you floods his mouth, it seems to unlock something in him. Some rusty, spider-web filled, creaking lock shoves open. 

“Aghhh yeah,” he moans when you withdraw your fingers and suck him deep again. “That’s how I like it. However you do it, that’s how I like it, baby. Holy fuck.” 

Your eyes actually roll back at that, and your hand flies down to circle your clit without thinking. 

His eyes track the movement and he chuckles darkly. “Oh, you like that? You like hearing how well you’re doing?”

You whimper. Fuck, yeah, you do.

He bucks underneath you, like your mouth is just the best thing he’s ever felt in his life. “Just—fucking—on your knees for me? Shit."

Your eyes slide shut, lost in the salty taste of him as his precum mixes with your spit. His hand leaves your head and reaches down to tap your chin. 

“Eyes on me, baby,” he rasps. Your eyes flutter open in surprise.

You swallow around him in response and his jaw drops. He grips your hair again on instinct and you moan in encouragement as he starts to push you gently up and down his shaft. 

“Is t-this okay?” he asks, breath ragged. 

You nod, lashes fluttering as he hits that soft spot at the back of your throat. 

Truth is, you love this. 

Taking your rigid, calculating co-worker and turning him into something needy and honest. He’s wild, but with an edge of control. And somehow, you just know Keys could take you to the brink and keep you there like no other. 

You hollow your cheeks as he grinds in and out of your wet mouth, pulsing against your tongue and spitting out the filthiest words you’ve ever heard him say in your months of working across from him. 

You rub your throbbing clit faster, and he blinks down, watching you touch yourself to the feel of him in your mouth for all of three seconds before he’s yanking up on your hair. 

Your scalp tingles as you disobey his silent order, determined to have him come in your mouth. His base is slick against your puffy lips, and he damn near chokes on his tongue when your nose hits his stomach. 

“Holy—I’m gonna come,” he grunts, hips bucking. “Shit—baby, you’ve gotta—do you—”

He breaks off with a ragged moan as you grip his thighs and swallow around him—and then he’s spilling down your throat. 

His abs tense and release over and over in your view, and the view is so intoxicating, you’re only a few seconds away from your own release when he finally slips from your drooling mouth.

You don’t know what you expected him to do when he finished. Maybe probably crawl back into that shy, nice-guy, missionary shell of his. Instead, when his chin falls to his chest, his soft brown eyes have gone molten. He reaches down and pulls his pants back up, tucking himself back into his briefs, but he doesn’t bother with the zipper. 

“C’mere,” he demands, grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you up. Your legs wobble, but he catches you easily and pulls you down into his lap. “Ride my thigh.”

Your mouth drops open. “Ride your—”

“You heard me.”

In one smooth motion, he plunges a hand under your skirt and yanks your panties down your legs. His knuckles brush your wet folds and you gasp against him, grinding down instinctively against his knee. 

“Look at you,” he whispers. “Taking instructions. Soaking through my pants like that? Fuck yeah.”

Your breasts heave as you try to catch your breath, but now, you start to wonder if maybe you’ll just be in an oxygen debt forever at this point. Because with the way he’s looking up at you right now, there’s no way you can breathe. 

Your hips roll smooth and fast, and when he shifts his leg up slightly, meeting your movements, sparks shoot up your spine. Your head drops back, eyes slipping shut, but Keys is quick to pull your gaze back to his with a hand around the nape of your neck. 

He clicks his tongue. “No, I want to watch you. Wanna see you fall apart for me.”

“God, Keys,” you pant, “you’re a quick learner, I’ll give you that—”

He cuts you off by pinching your nipple through your bra, and when he grabs a handful of your bare ass under your skirt, your lungs officially forget how to expand. 

“Please,” you beg. “Keys—”

His hands fly to your hips, helping you rock back and forth on him. “What is it? What do you need? Need me to touch you?”

You whimper. “Yes.”

“Tell me where.”

You grab his hand and guide it under your skirt, but he pulls back at the last second. 

“That’s not telling me.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you laugh, breathless and irritated. 

He smiles, then. And it’s positively radiant, white teeth winking in the dim light. 

“C’mon, use your words, or else I’ll have to stop,” he warns. 

But you’re not listening, because at that moment, he dips his head and captures your aching breast in his mouth, pulling a deep moan from your throat and putting an arch in your back. 

Your thighs burn, hips slowing to devastatingly desperate swivel in order to keep his mouth on you. The threads of his pants are warm and completely soaked through underneath you, and he’s licking and sucking your breasts through your bra like he’s trying to find a way to imprint his smell, his taste, onto your body.

The duel stimulation feeds that sprawling drive for more. Tremors start to run through your hands, making them claw restlessly at his shoulders and dive into his hair as your orgasm grows closer. 

Suddenly, Keys pulls back. He ignores your whine of protest and blinks up at you from behind his glasses. Your tongue darts over your bottom lip as your eyes drop to his mouth. 

His perfect…perfect fucking mouth. Soft lips, parted just slightly as he breathes heavily beneath you. The timber of his voice reverberates against your stomach as he talks. God, it’d be so easy just to lean in and press your mouth against his, feel that gentle glide of his tongue against yours…

Wait, is he saying something? You can’t fucking think—

“…not going to tell me, I have to stop.”

It’s only when his hands leave your body that the world slows to a stop. 

Cold air rushes in where his hands just were. Now you’re just needy and wet, grinding down on his pants leg in the middle of a dark office. 

“W-what?” you ask dumbly.

He shrugs. “I told you what would happen if you didn’t use your words.”

Your brain feels foggy, like your thoughts are traveling through a cloud, all the blooding your body pooled in your clit instead. 

“But I...” you whimper, “But, what—”

He rolls his eyes. 

“But I—but Keys—I just—” he mocks you, voice going higher on his register, and your mouth drops open in shock. 

He smirks at the look on your face and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “What? you thought I wasn’t serious? You made me do all this—and don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it. I watched you getting off on the power trip of it all, and now it’s my turn. So, go ahead. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Where the fuck did your nerdy, shy coworker go? And who have you turned him into? Your breasts heave in his face as you blink down at him, but he doesn’t so much as glance at them. 

“I’m right here,” he urges. “Go ahead. Ask for it. Anything you want, I’ll give it to you.”

After a moment, you finally find your voice. 

“I-I want you to touch me.”

His hands instantly resume their place on your hips and your breath shutters in relief. 

Then he leans in, lips ghosting over your jaw. “That wasn’t so hard, huh? Where do you want to come? On my fingers?”

“Yes!” The word leaves your mouth broken and desperate. 

He hums. “Put it together.”

You exhale sharply, panting towards the ceiling in frustration. “Walter, I want you to finger fuck me until I come.”

He smiles against your throat. “Good girl.”

His hand finds your clit immediately and he rubs tight, hot circles that have your back arching.  

“Oh, God, don’t stop!” you beg. 

Your shirt slips from your shoulder and then his mouth is there, kissing the soft skin like he’s trying to memorize the shape of it. 

The muscles deep in your core flex with your impending pleasure and you writhe against him desperately. Through it all, his hands stay steady, never wavering. Constant, and grounding. 

You raise up on shaky legs as his two middle fingers circle your entrance and your pelvis tilts, eagerly seeking that internal friction. 

He presses in, just a little, and your body welcomes him greedily. The sound of his fingers disappearing inside you making him groan out a slurred curse. 

“Shit, baby—both at once? So wet for me, oh my God.” 

When his fingertips brush that spongey spot that makes you see stars, your chest vibrates with your moan. The pressure on your clit is too much, and not enough, and everything all at once—it’s overwhelming. It's perfect. 

Your hips snap into his palm, driving his fingers deeper and he lets out a choked sound as you whine, needy and breathless. 

“There you go. That’s it,” he murmurs into your neck. His glasses knock into your throat as you tip your head back to give him better access. “Take what you need.”

That white-hot band of pleasure finally snaps as you clench around his fingers, and your orgasm rushes through you in a torrential wave of bliss. Keys slowly withdraws his fingers and helps bring you back to each with soft kisses to your chest, thumbs tracing circles into your thighs as you collapse on top of him. 

“Holy shit,” you gasp, running a hand through your hair, gazing down at him through heavy lids. “That was…”

“Good?” he asks eagerly. 

You smile. “Perfect.”

And you mean it. You really do. 

His fingers brush over your bare shoulder and your breath catches again as your eyes connect with his. The stoplight on the street below turns green, reflecting in his glasses, and because you can’t help it, you smirk down at him. 

“So, about this girl...” he murmurs. 

Your stomach flips. “Yeah?”

“This date—”

“Yeah?” you say again, eagerly, cutting him off. 

As you stare at each other, chests heaving, faces flush, a laugh builds behind your ribs. 

He clears his throat. “I was kinda hoping…you’re free Thursday? I was thinking about that place on Elm and Cross—”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” you murmur, and the rest of his words die against your mouth as you lean down and kiss him. 

a/n: Oh, hi. So, the way I feel about this fictional man, is actually pretty close to the actual definition of feral. Also, I just want to say, there are many more kinds of dirty talk out there, but these categories just fit the plot lol

Also everyone blame Jules (@tellcherhesgone) for putting this idea in my head, because she posted one thing about Keys definitely knowing what GoneWildAudio is, and that shit stuck with me lol

keys taglist: @emotionallyaslut , @subtlesposts, @oliviaharrington, @drifting-daydream, @dracomalfoypilled , @mysticfluffyness