#r6mute

His taste was so intoxicating. So alluring to the point that Vigil was drowning in it. Maybe it was because he decided to wear a cherry flavor chapstick, which Vigil was happily devouring. Or maybe it was his cologne. Such a smoky, tobacco aroma with traces of cider and oak. A scent Vigil found so inviting that he often complimented Mute for having it on. And that single compliment made Mute wear it more often. Which caused Vigil to lose his mind every time he was around Mute.  Losing his train of thought, stuttering, becoming skittish, often resulted in him getting nothing done or having to run away to help relieve a very overwhelmed nuisance in his pants. And it was that scent that made him fall over the edge and cave into the demands given by the other operators. More specifically, Dokkaebi. Someone he was going to kill later on.

And now, he was drowning in the taste decorating his tongue and refusing to give him a chance of air. Each time they broke apart, Mute would lean back in to catch his lips once again. Vigil moaned weakly as he happily allowed the foreign invader that snaked its way into his mouth, clear access to everything he had to offer. He melted into Mute's embrace as he accepted the hands rummaging up and down his body. Decorating his neck in love bites from time to time before returning back to his lips. Vigil was so blind by the heated makeout session, that he didn't really care what Mute was doing with his blouse or even his pants. Whatever he did, Vigil was sure he was going to enjoy it regardless.

But it was foolish to think that such a rush, wouldn't come without a cost.

That stupid clock. Ticking every so slowly as each second blew by into a minute. Vigil mentally sneered at the object as he allowed the button-up shirt a chance at freedom. Revealing his toned, muscular body, to the Brit who chewed his bottom lip at the sight. But Mute couldn't relish in the sight. And that made him sneer also, but he couldn't dwindle on this thought. He had to continue.

But that horrid, repugnant, downright despicable clock taunted them with the minutes that ticked by ever so quickly. It was foolish to give two sexually frustrated gentlemen, who both clearly held massive crushes for each other, yet tried to deny it, seven minutes, especially when the feeling was mutual to both parties. Seven minutes, in a storage room, with barely any lights, and a small desk which the Korean sat on top of. But Vigil didn't want to pay attention to the clock. Mute's lips were just too good to ignore. Hence why they kept kissing while Mute continued to work their clothes off. Not discarding them, but removing them just enough so he could have easy access inside.