#tpwk

Harry’s barely picking up the pace as he starts to chase the arousal that was building heavy and unavoidable in his belly.

When YN’s voice, breathless, still recovering from her orgasm, manages out, “Ha-baby.” “Yeah,” He rumbles in reply, his muscles starting to tense up as he huffs out an agreeable, “S’good, yeah.”

YN moves her hand to tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, getting distracted for a moment herself when he hits her spot head on, and he hisses when she squeezes snug around, “It’s good but…the announcement.”

Harry finally focuses on the voice booming over the speaker, encouraging people to get back to their seats in the next five minutes so that Harry can take the stage.

“Giving you a baby s’more important to me,” Harry mumbles stubbornly but he does pick up his pace.

He hated being rushed which he shouldn’t complain about because he knew they had a time crunch but the idea of not satiating that jealously, that possessiveness seemed worse than this.

Despite herself, even though she had tried to focus him, YN gasps out, seeming like she’s surprising herself, “I can…I can again.”

Harry moves his thumb back to her bud from where it was resting at the crease of her hip to give her a break.

The same motions that she likes, the easy way to get her there, and when she squeezes around him as her second orgasm hits.

Harry follows right afterwards, hips stuttering as he presses in, in, in, and buries himself there while they both come down.

-

Harry attempts to help her clean up as he grabs the wet towelettes from the counter and starts dabbing gently between her thighs, careful because she gets so sensitive after she comes.

His focus entirely on her as if there wasn’t an entire event he was hosting on the other side of these walls, he has to hush her once when she whines about being too rough (he wasn’t, she just gets whiny after).

His name is announced over the speakers, and it is loud enough that it echoes through the hallway and into the bathroom.

Harry barely reacts and he doesn’t stop helping her clean up, his attention doesn’t shift because in his mind, this comes first.

It’s much more important to him that his wife was taken care of first.

He leans in slightly, still trying to wipe her off, his hand on her hip to keep her steady.

YN lets out a breathy laugh, still coming down from her nearly consecutive orgasms, she bats his hands away when he keeps trying, shaking her head at him.

“Go, H,” She tells him, there’s an eyeroll in her tone because she knows how stubborn he is, how she doesn’t always understand how he can be comfortable having a room of hundreds of people wait on him but still smiling as she nudges him back slightly, “You’re supposed to be up on stage. Get your ass out there.”

Harry exhales through his nose, clearly not pleased with the timing (even though he knew this was going to happen, it still annoyed the fuck out of him) as his jaw tightens for a moment.

His hands lingering at her waist because he doesn’t want to let go of her or leave this moment quite yet.

“Shouldn’t be rushing out like this,” He mutters lowly, more to himself than to her because he doesn’t feel like its proper treatment of the situation, of what they just shared or the intimacy of it.

“You act like it’s a random hook-up,” YN teases him, her hands coming to fix the messed up collar of his sleeve, smoothing it out, “You can’t hit it and quit it when you’re married. You stuck with me.”

He steps back, dragging a hand through his hair which probably only makes it more messy before yanking his pants up properly and adjusting himself, straightening his shirt and jacket to be presentable again.

Before he turns to leave, he leans in again, this time slower, pressing a softer, more sweet kiss to her lips.

“Good luck,” YN murmurs against his mouth when he pulls back, there’s a smile there because she can tell he's grumpy and sometimes, unlike anyone else in the world, she thinks when he’s grumpy he’s endearing which he doesn’t quite understand.

He finally turns and pushes the door open, stepping back into the hallway and toward the stage, and he doesn’t care how it looks, doesn’t care that he’s a half-minute late walking up to the podium, doesn’t care if people are whispering.

He steps up to the podium and adjusts the microphone but his gaze is already drifting back towards where their table was, and it takes an extra moment but he spots her as she starts walking back to her seat, put together again.

He watches as she makes her way back through the room, her expression relaxed as she returns to the table like nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

And then he sees Theo pull her chair out for her.

Whatever Harry had been hoping to work out of his system just minutes ago settles right back into his chest like it had never left.

It doesn’t matter that he just had her, it doesn't matter that his hands were on her, that she had been snug around him, that he got to claim her in every single way that he could as her husband.

It doesn’t fucking matter.

The feeling is still there.

Harry straightens slightly at the podium, rolling and broadening his shoulders as he begins his speech, his voice smooth and professional as every word comes out precise and as he intended.

Public speaking has never been something he struggles with, especially when he’s talking about his own company, his own success, and there’s no better person who could speak on those topics than him.

To everyone watching, it is a great, nearly perfect presentation but behind it, his focus continues to waver, his gaze pulling back to the table often, he can help but find himself tracking the interactions.

The way Theo leans slightly closer when he speaks because the room is quiet elsewise, the way YN responds even if she doesn’t even look at him but simply replies to whatever he’s saying because it’s casual.

When Harry finishes, the room erupts into applause, the crowd of employees and partners all giving him a standing ovation that fills the space with loud whistles, clapping, and it’s super overstimulating.

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t wave, all he does is gives a brief, acknowledging nod, and then he walks off the stage.

-

Numerous people stopped him on the way back to the table because it was going to be their only opportunity to chat with him, they all had been waiting for an opportunity to corner him all night and this was finally it.

So many hands reach out to shake his, voices overlap as they try to grab his attention by calling his name, questions about everything under the sun, and Harry handles it the way he always does.

He gives every person as little time as possible without coming off like a complete asshole, he’ll answer a question before turning to the next person, acknowledge someone else before moving on but there is an impatience in him now.

All he wants to do is get back to the table.

And it has nothing to do with mistrust.

Harry trusts YN completely, without hesitation, without question in his mind, body, and soul, in a way that has never wavered since they became a couple.

This is not about her.

It is about him, about something uncomfortable and unfamiliar that has been itching under his skin all night.

Something he has never had to address in the past because he never had to feel jealous like this before because he never cared about anyone enough to want to have that claim to them.

Now that he does, he finds himself reacting in ways that aren’t his normal behahvior.

By the time he finally makes it back to the table, his patience is nearly fucking gone, his shoulders tense from having to have at least twenty meaningless conversations that were a waste of time that Harry would never get back in his life.

Theo and YN are already having a conversation after the speech is over.

The moment YN spots him, she breaks off mid-sentence without a second thought to Theo, her attention shifting to him immediately as she stands, her expression bright and happy as she moves toward him.

“Harry—” She starts, clearly about to congratulate him by the lift of her tone, the smile that was on her lips but he doesn’t let her.

His hand comes up to her jaw the second she’s close enough, his fingers firm where they cup her cheek as he pulls her into him and kisses her.

The kiss isn’t inappropriate.

Not really.

But it’s just a fraction too long compared to their normal PDA.

His hand doesn’t drop immediately when he pulls back from the kiss, his thumb brushing once along her cheek as his gaze flicks past her shoulder toward Theo.

“So proud of you, always,” She says softly, interrupting tension she isn’t even noticing because she’s literally beaming, her tone warm and so genuine as she puts her hand up on his chest, over his heart.

Harry leans in and kisses her again because there is still something sitting under his skin that hasn’t chilled out, his hand still firm at her jaw as he holds her there just a second longer than necessary, the kiss turning into something more than it needs to be in a room like this.

She laughs softly into it, a little surprised but still completely receptive, her fingers tightening slightly against his shirt as she tilts her head to meet him.

As he ends the kiss, his attention shifts back to Theo, and the look on his face is what sets Harry off.

His eyebrows are raised slightly, his expression reads as amused like he just watched something entertaining or adorable, like he has any place reacting to it at all, and Harry doesn’t care if it’s meant as a joke or not because he doesn’t fucking like it.

The irritation spikes fast and sharp, and this time he doesn’t stop it.

“Am I not allowed to kiss my wife?” Harry says, his tone flat to not give away his anger, it seems like an innocent enough jest but if Theo was smart, he would catch the undertone of it.

YN’s head turns immediately, her brows pulling together as she looks between the two of them, trying to figure out if Harry is serious or if this is him just teasing because when he did, it was still dry.

Theo clearly assumes it’s a joke.

Of course he does because why would he assume that Harry is struggling with childish jealousy over a simple interaction?

He leans back slightly in his chair, lifting his hands in mock surrender with a grin as if they’re friends who have a back and forth.

And that only makes it way fucking worse because he’s comfortable.

He’s a fucking employee.

“Theo, jealous, are we?” She teases, her tone light, playful because Theo handles it well, she assumes it’s also a joke which Harry doesn’t feel anything negative towards her because she would expect better of her husband.

“More than you know,” Theo replies without missing a beat, his smile turning a wistful as he throws the comment back at her.

YN laughs loudly at his response, he’s clearly missing some type of inside joke between the two of them because he feels out of the loop, not on purpose, normally it wouldn’t bother him.

Harry feels his jaw lock hard enough that it almost hurts.

It’s the fact that Theo feels comfortable enough to joke like that in front of him, like he isn’t the one who decides whether Theo has a future in this company or not.

He feels stupid for all of the drama he’s creating.

He knows this is immature, knows that he’s reacting like some insecure asshole over nothing but knowing that doesn’t make it go away.

It just makes him more irritated because now he’s dealing with Theo and himself.

And right now, he doesn’t have the patience for either.

He exhales slowly through his nose with a forced smile, his posture staying rigid as he forces himself to stand there and not say something worse, not escalate it further.

They are not even flirting.

If they were, if there was something inappropriate happening right in front of him then at least his reaction would make sense but there isn’t.

Harry cannot even remember why they broke up, cannot recall YN ever speaking about it in any real detail, and he doesn’t like the unknown of that.

He knows that he wants YN to have friends, that at his core he has never cared about something as insignificant as the gender of the people she calls her friends because he is not insecure in their marriage, not in the way they chose each other, not in what they have built together.

That has never been the issue.

The problem is something else entirely.

It is the way he struggles with sharing what he views as his, a possessive instinct that he is fully aware is not always fair, not always reasonable but there regardless.

And right now, it is louder than it has ever been.

He knows exactly where this is headed if he lets it continue.

His filter is already slipping and his patience is already thin.

So the decision happens quickly, he wants to go home, and remove himself from the situation completely.

-

YN didn't know.

How could he expect her to pick up on his jealousy when there was no logical reason for it? 

YN was usually so perceptive, so in tune to his moods that she could usually sense his stress before he even recognized it in himself.

"You were incredible tonight," She says and there's so much pride in her voice, "Your speech was perfect.”

"It went alright," Harry says, his voice more clipped than he wants it to because he didn’t want to take this out on YN.

"Alright?" YN laughs, the sound soft and teasing, "It was amazing. I can’t believe you’re my husband.”

Harry swallows, guilt starting to seep in because he doesn’t deserve any praise right now, not for his thoughts, "You don't have to—"

YN interrupts gently. "I'm so proud of you. You deserve to feel good about tonight."

But he doesn't feel good. 

He feels like a miserable prick, sitting here while his wife…his kind, supportive, loving wife praises him with such genuine pride, completely unaware that he's been stewing in irrational jealousy all fucking night.

He reaches over, placing his hand on her upper thigh, sneaking up under the hem of her dress where the fabric had bunched up when she sat down, and squeezes as a silent ‘thank you’ for her words. 

YN's hand immediately covers his, she begins toying with his wedding band as she always liked to do.

She moved it on his finger, ran her fingers over the smooth metal of it in a way she has when she's comfortable and feeling calm.

He loves her so fucking much. 

Then she softens even more (if that’s even possible), "I wonder if this time was it."

"What's that, m'heart?" Harry murmurs, refocusing his attention now, pulling himself out of the spiral he's been trapped in all evening. 

He glances over at her and what he sees makes his chest ache a little.

She's biting at the corner of her lip, a small but sad smile there as she thinks whatever through, processing and deciding how to say it.

She doesn't answer right away which Harry knows that means whatever she is going to say is going to hold emotional weight.

YN takes a moment, her fingers tightening around his hand before she guides it from her thigh, lifting it with both of hers, and places it on her lower belly. 

"I wonder if this is the time," YN repeats softly, with a hopefulness that hurts, "If we get our baby this time.”

She guides his palm to spread flat against her, her own hand pressing his down as if she's imagining a round belly there.

Her eyes close briefly and Harry can see the flutter of her eyelashes as she holds back tears, the way her brow furrows as she tries to think through her emotion, and how her bottom lip quivers.

And god, that fucking breaks his heart because he could buy her nearly anything else on this earth.

Jewelry, cars, houses, vacations, whatever material thing she might want but he can't make this happen. 

It breaks his heart because this isn't the first time she's said it. 

It's something that YN has started doing in the past few months, always after they've tried during her peak ovulation days.

She puts it out there, "I wonder if this time was it." 

And then, a week or two later, come the negative pregnancy tests. 

The single line instead of two. 

The disappointment that she tries to hide but that he sees anyway in the way her shoulders drop, in the extra moment she takes in the bathroom before emerging with a too-bright smile.

The jealousy, all of it, every petty, irrational bit of it, evaporates like steam.

The irrational possessiveness that had consumed Harry for hours is so fucking stupid, so embarrassingly small compared to this. 

It's so much more important that he's present for his wife right now.

He moves his thumb back and forth over her belly in a soothing motion,"And if it isn't, we won't stop tryin' until I can give you what you want, dove. What we both want."

-

Harry's still half-asleep when YN pads into the shower, and he automatically reaches for her, pulling her under the spray with him, and positions her in front of him, her back to his chest, and letting her get the most of the spray.

He reaches for her shampoo and works it between his palms until it foams even though she normally washes his first, he wanted to take care of her this morning though she didn’t know what had gone on in his mind.

YN tips her head back automatically, welcoming it easily, and Harry begins working the soap through her hair, his fingers sliding through the wet strands.

"What has you up so early? Though you were going to sleep in, baby," He asks, his voice still rough with sleep because he’d skipped his workout, he had slept in because work had been kicking his ass, and he couldn’t find any interest in working out in his exhaustion.

He digs his nails lightly into her scalp, the way he knows she likes, and the mewl that escapes her is instant as she melts back against him, her body melting under his hands.

"S’good," YN hums, her eyes fluttering closed, head tilting back further to give him more to massage, greedy.

"Are you going to stay up or did you just want a chance to see my cock before you go back to bed?” He murmurs even though his voice was soft, his words were crude, and somehow still endearing.

YN gives him the appropriate reaction, a pretty giggle and she wiggles her bum back on him before she actually answers, " Wanted to see your cock and Theo invited me to morning yoga with Casey. I'm going to do that and then I have two meetings. One for the scholarship charity and another for the one I want to get up and running for single mums."

That bubbling feeling of jealousy that he'd thought he'd put to rest, that he'd told himself he'd let go of in the car, and he wasn’t going to revisit comes roaring back to life without his permission.

Theo invited her to yoga.

His fucking employee invited his wife to yoga.

"Theo invited you," Harry repeats, his voice carefully neutral to not give anything away about it, didn’t want YN to think he had a problem with her going because it wasn’t that, he knows she loves yoga and doesn’t do it enough.

YN doesn't seem to notice, still relaxed against him, still enjoying his attention as he starts to wash it out, "Mmhmm. He said Casey's been wanting to try this new instructor at that studio in Chelsea and he remembered I love yoga.”

“Sounds like fun,” Harry replies with as much realness as he can because it’s not really about jealousy at this point, it’s the fact that he feels like his employee is crossing boundaries.

Or maybe that’s just what he needs to keep telling himself.

-

Harry is sat behind his desk when Dorothy knocks lightly before opening the door to let Theo in then closing it behind him with a gentle click.

Theo's dressed in a nice suit, carrying a leather briefcase that looks new, and there's a smile on his face. 

And that stupid smile, that easy, comfortable, chipper fucking smile makes his teeth itch.

"Hi, it's great to see—" Theo begins, his voice friendly and ready to make a good impression.

Harry cuts him off with a sharp gesture toward the chair across from his desk, not matching the warmth whatsoever, "Sit."

Theo's smile falters slightly, confusion flickering across his features but he moves to the chair, setting his briefcase down carefully beside it, and he's barely sat down when Harry speaks again.

"Before we get started," Harry says, his voice flat and harsh, "I'm making it crystal fucking clear right now that you're not getting any type of special treatment because of your connection to my wife."

Harry watches Theo's face carefully to see if it gets any reaction, watches the way his eyebrows rise in surprise before furrowing, the confusion deepens, "Sir, I would never expec—"

"Let's get started," Harry doesn't let him finish, doesn't give him the opportunity of completing a single sentence, "I don't have time for bullshitting."

Theo's mouth closes at Harry’s abruptness, there's a flicker of something in his eyes.

It may be hurt or frustration but he nods either way, straightening in his chair, trying to maintain his professional composure despite what’s being thrown at him.

Harry leans back in his chair, casual, relaxed but there's nothing relaxed about the way he's looking at Theo.

"You are a manager of a small branch of your department currently," Harry asks, his tone flat and bored, "How will you pivot when you're managing an multiple departments with nearly twelve times the staff?"

It's an easy enough question, it wouldn't be easy for someone who didn't know the field but Harry doubts Theo will struggle with the answer. 

Theo clears his throat, shifting in his seat as he tries to steady himself, “Well, currently I manage a team of thirty, and my approach has been to—”

“Currently,” Harry cuts in, not raising his voice but it’s not friendly, it is enough that the word alone is enough to stop Theo mid-sentence, “I didn’t ask about your current responsibilities. I asked about how you will adjust, not how you manage now. You can clearly do the job you’re working now so answer the question I actually asked.”

Theo pauses briefly but he recovers quickly and instead gives Harry exactly what he is asking for.

And he does it well, he doesn’t fumble through it or default to something generic.

Harry doesn’t give him any reaction or response at first.

“What are your thoughts on the growth and improvement financial model now compared to the one that was in place when I first built the company?” Harry asks next but the question is purposefully more difficult but not impossible.

He breaks it down in a way that shows he has studied the company beyond surface level, that he understands how it began, and where it’s at now.

It is a strong answer because Theo is doing exactly what he should be doing, and showing the kind of skills that would normally make Harry interested, engaged, the way it challenged him in the first interview.

“Alright,” He says, his tone controlled, almost casual but there is something underneath it that signals a shift before the question even comes, “Walk me through how you'd handle a complete restructure of the European sector if we lost our primary vendor overnight."

The question hangs in the air, unreasonable and way too fucking specific and completely outside the range of anything Theo would need to know off the top of their head.

Harry knows this, it’s a question he wouldn’t normally ask.

Theo blinks, clearly taken aback, and he starts to shuffle through the papers he brought with him and says after a moment, his voice hesitant, "I don't think that was on the prep sheet that HR gave me."

"Those are the only things you decided to study?" Harry asked and there's clear judgement in his voice now.

"I prepared thoroughly for the interview based on the materials provided," Theo says, his tone was still impressively professional but there was a new hint of defensiveness creeping in that Harry didn’t miss, "The question you just asked requires access to information I don't currently have access to in my role."

Harry doesn't acknowledge that he was one hundred percent right.

Instead, he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk, and asks another question, this one even more specific, even more impossible.

“What do you think increased our sales in Q3 in South East Asia? Do you think it was a fluke, their recession or something that specifically crafted by the work out team had been working on in the region for the last five years? Why all of a sudden would this have occured? How would you continue to support this financial influx without fumbling it?"

"Sir," Theo says slowly, carefully because it’s clear he is in over his head with Harry, that he may have been prepared for the questions but not the person asking them, "I mean no disrespect but I feel like your goal is for me to fail this interview."

Harry's expression doesn't change. 

"These are not anywhere close to the prep questions provided," Theo continues and he’s letting slight frustration show, "And I would need to do very specific research to have those answers. Which I can do if I have time to prepare."

Harry leans back in his chair, expression giving away nothing like his choice wasn’t made before Theo even stepped foot in here, his face remaining completely neutral.

“That won’t be necessary,” Harry says, his tone bored and unbothered though there is a decisiveness to it that leaves no space for argument, “I think the role that you are in currently is the best fit for you and I’ll be exploring other options to fill this role.”

He does not expand on it or offer clarification.

“Am I not getting the job because YN told you that I’m—” Theo starts, his tone sharper now, his anger rising.

Harry lifts his hand without breaking eye contact, the gesture dismissive as he cuts him off before he can finish, making it clear that whatever Theo is about to say is not something he is willing to discuss further.

“That’s all, Theo, thanks for coming in,” Harry says in a way that doesn’t seem appreciative at all.

Theo hesitates for a fraction of a second, clearly deciding whether he should push back against the treatment or challenge the outcome he just received but whatever he reads in Harry’s expression makes him decide against either. 

He stands instead, the movement abrupt as his chair clanks behind him, his frustration visible in the way he gathers his things with less care than before, and he doesn’t say anything else to Harry.

The door closes behind him with more force than necessary.

Theo had been his best candidate by a far and under any other circumstances that would have been enough for Harry to hire him today.

The old version of Harry wouldn’t have felt guilt for a minute.

He most likely wouldn’t now either but he knows that this would be acceptable behavior by YN’s standard, and he instantly regrets letting his emotions get the best of him.

YN doesn’t ask about the interview, which is the only reason he is able to not be held accountable because he does not have an answer that would hold up if she asked him about it, and he is aware that is a real possibility of still happening even if it didn’t happen quite yet.

When he leaves for Australia the next day on a four day long work trip, he tells himself that the distance will help, that the space will give him enough time to get the fuck over all these feelings, and the guilt. 

Even though he knows that the problem isn’t going to disappear just because he didn’t hire him.

-

YN has been texting Theo since Monday after yoga.

At first, it was just a thank you.

YN:Had such a great time this morning! We need to do that again soon.

Theo responded immediately.

THEO: Anytime. You know I'm always down for yoga and overpriced smoothies!!!

And then, around two in the afternoon, the messages just... stopped.

YN had sent him a link to an article about a new pottery studio she was thought would be fun for him and Casey. 

No response.

She'd asked if he wanted to grab coffee later in the week. 

Nothing.

By Tuesday, she was rereading their conversation, trying to figure out what she'd said wrong, trying to recount what happened at yoga that she did.

By Wednesday, she was genuinely worried. 

And by Thursday morning, when her phone finally buzzed with Theo's name on the screen, it didn’t make her feel much better.

THEO: Can we meet for dinner tonight? I need to talk to you about something.

The message sits in her stomach all day, a massive knot of anxiety that gets worse with every passing hour.

-

Theo, already seated in the back of the small italian restaurant, his shoulders tense which was unlike him, and when he looks up to see YN, his smile is wrong. 

It doesn't reach his eyes which makes her chest tighten with dread.

"Hey," She says hesitantly, sliding into the chair across from him.

"Hey," Theo replies and even that single word feels off.

"I've been wracking my brain to figure out what I did or said to hurt you, to make you need space," YN blurts out before she's even fully sat, the words tumbling over each other in her rush to get them out, "I am so sorry, Theo. It was never my intention to—"

"No, no," Theo cuts her off, shaking his head quickly, and there's something that soften slightly in his expression, "It's not anything you've done, YN. I'm sorry. I just - I needed time to process and to figure out how to talk to you about this without offending you. I'm worried if I bring up what's bothering me, it will make you upset with me."

"What is it about?" She asks, and her voice is barely above a whisper now.

Theo looks at her for a long moment, his expression conflicted, like he's still debating whether to say it at all.