FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Nighttime had just fallen in the offices of Draconic Solutions. The lights in the building had long since been shut off, in the interim period between the workers leaving and the janitors coming in. The only illumination in the room came from Roger's computer screen, bathing the cubicle in pale blue-white light. The rabbit was just starting to feel the effects of staring at the monitor, a dull ache at the back of his eyes, though that might easily have been the multiple cups of coffee that lay scattered about his desk, or the fact that in spite of those coffees, he was slowly losing the fight against sleep. Whatever the reason, Roger was clearly unhappy, as he watched the monitor inform him of yet another problem that would need addressing.

Though his eyes remained obstinately glued to the screen, one of his large ears nonetheless found itself swiveling in the direction of approaching footsteps. At first, he thought it might be one of the maintenance people. Then, he heard the sub-vocal humming of one of Shred Burrow's many, many deep-cut songs, and sighed. "I thought you went home, already."

The footsteps came to a stop, replaced by the sound of something heavy leaning against the outer wall of his cubicle, before a deep voice responded. "My car's acting up again, and my backup ride is apparently gonna be a bit."

"Lemme guess," Roger quipped. "Your sister is also having car trouble."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I swear, sometimes it seems like my whole family was, like, cursed by a car witch or something."

Roger closed his eyes and shook his head, before finally turning around. There had never been anything about Ian's appearance that had left Roger surprised, when the latter had had time to learn what he was really like. Everything from the tactically messy patch of fur on the cat's head to his tendency to come to work in sneakers and without fully buttoning his wrinkled shirts, his crooked smirk, the bounce in his step so uncharacteristic of the realities of office life... it all spoke of somebody who could barely manage to keep themselves together. It didn't help that he spent half of his time in the office pretending as though it were his own personal clubhouse. Getting all chummy with anyone he had a fancy for, that day. Barely respecting personal boundaries. Honestly, sometimes it felt like he deliberately chose shirts that were a size too small, so he could show off the set of muscles he always bragged about working on...

Roger blinked, shaking off the thought. "If you're going to ask me for a ride, I'm afraid you might be a bit."

"Nah," Ian rested his chin against his elbow, as he leaned further against the little divider. "I wouldn't wanna get in your way, Boss. Not when you're in Serious Mode, and all."

Roger adjusted his glasses, with a scowl. "I told you not to call me 'Boss.' I'm not your manager, and it's confusing to the other employees."

"Oh, relax, Rog. It's not like anyone else is around to be confused." If Ian recognized the unamused reaction he was getting, he was infuriatingly adept at pretending like it wasn't there. His head craned to see over the rabbit's shoulder. "So, what are you working on? I didn't know you did programming stuff."

"I don't." Roger turned back to the screen, with an impatient huff. "At least, that's not what I was hired for. My coders are behind schedule, though, so I've been forced to dust off my old college course knowledge to try and pick up the slack."

"Right, right." Ian chuckled. "I guess it's been hard for them to focus on the deadline, when they're busy playing grabass in the broom closet." The room was silent, after that. Roger froze in mid-keystroke. Ian's crooked smirk fell, as he watched the rabbit push empty plastic cups aside so he could put his elbows down and put his head in his hands. "Hey, uh... you feeling all right, there?"

"Of course," Roger groaned. "Of course you would know about that."

"I mean, yeah. My cubicle shares a wall with the closet, and, uh... Well, Shirley isn't exactly the quietest girl I've heard."

"Gawd! Those horny idiots..."

"Hey, it's cool, man. It's not like I said anything."

Roger turned to face Ian, eyebrow raised.

Ian shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, I figured if it was a big deal or something, you'd have already told HR. Couldn't imagine you wouldn't have picked up on it, seeing as how you're basically Superboss."

The rabbit's expression remained neutral. Only the forceful exhale from the nose betrayed his relief. "Yes, well... officially speaking, I'm supposed to tell you that you have an obligation to report these things, regardless."

"You're welcome."

The smirk that played on Ian's face annoyed Roger on a level he could not entirely place. It seemed... conspiratorial. It was as if, all of a sudden, the two of them were in on some happy secret, the kind you have among close friends. Close friends or closer... no. He was not going to complete that thought. No matter how much his coworker slouched against his cubicle door, casual as something out of the cover of a fashion magazine, pretending that the two of them were friends, Roger had more important things to focus on.

He had more important things to focus on.

You're staring, he chided himself. You're staring and you know it. You have. More. Important. Things.

"To be honest," he finally said, turning back to his screen, "a part of me wants to just pack it in and go home."

"That right? What's up? Is the code giving you too much trouble?"

"Pfft. As if. My department only ever gets grunt projects. Even my half-educated ass just has to sit here long enough, and the work gets done."

"Hmm..."

"I just don't see why I'm bothering, is all. I mean, here I am, hours after closing, throwing myself at work that should have gotten done days ago by other people. And for what? I mean, it's not like I'm gonna take credit for it, at the end of the day."

"Right, right..."

"And, you know, I... I..."

Roger's first indication that something had changed was subtle. A warmth at his back. A tug against the backrest as Ian's hands pressed down against it. How had he not heard him approach? How long had Ian been standing there? A smell came to the rabbit's nose, the failing last few fumes of cologne mixed with the inoffensive scent of male. He could feel his pulse quicken, the room become warmer. He didn't dare crane his ear back, lest it accidentally brush against shirt buttons, belt buckles, or even...

Stubbornly, he swallowed, determined to ignore everything that was not directly in front of his hands. "I just wonder if maybe I ought to let those two deal with their decisions."

Over his head, Ian chuckled. "You've been really stressing over this, haven't you? How long have you been at this extra job of yours?"

"Uh... ever since closing. Why?"

A shuffle of cloth made Roger nearly jump out of his seat. Suddenly, there was a muscular arm in a rolled-up sleeve, on his right side, hand clamped down on the armrest just behind his elbow. A set of whiskers tickled his right ear, the muzzle attached to them radiating gentle heat and gentler, rumbling breath. "Sounds to me," Ian purred, "that you've been at this for more than two hours. Company rules say you're entitled to a break, right?"

Roger resisted the urge to unslouch, lest his body come into contact with the one draped behind him. "T-technically, it would be another meal."

"Even better." There was a definite timbre to Ian's voice that Roger could not ignore. The cat was mere millimeters away from clearly violating company policy. "Maybe all you need is a chance to stretch your legs. Focus on something else, a bit." And yet, there still was that same, innocent quality about it all. It still sounded like the words of a genuine friend, still carried an impossible tone of normality.

In spite of himself, Roger found himself reaching for his glasses. He could practically hear Ian's lips curl up in triumph. Not even Roger himself could say when it became the rule among his colleagues that he stopped being everyone's boss when the glasses came off, but right now? Right now it seemed like the only appropriate thing to do, before he turned to look up at his coworker.

"You know... I... I think you might be right."

* * *

There's a moment of simultaneous clarity and disconnect, in the few moments one spends furtively rushing off to engage in something like what they were about to do. Roger found his mind fixating on the concept of the security cameras, trying to remember if Corporate had ever gotten around to fixing them on this floor, or if security ever really paid attention, or if they even bothered running them at night. He was nearly certain, but... if not, they were clearly going to show him. With a coworker. Running into the same broom closet that two other coworkers had used, just hours before. They were not even trying to be all that subtle about it.

All these thoughts seemed to be in sharp focus, right up until the moment he suddenly found himself against the wall, with a hungry set of lips on his own and warm hands running over his body. Then, strangely, it all seemed to melt into a blur of vague emotions. Suddenly, the only thing he could focus on was how abnormally warm Ian seemed to be. How overpowering. How the mere sensation of weight against his body brought into sharp relief how badly he had missed the touch of another.

Almost without thinking, Roger felt his hand cup itself around something hot and weighty. Ian groaned around his lips. The rabbit could only feel that sense of detachment grow, as he absently rubbed against the crotch of his coworker's pants. His coworker. The man who talked way too much about concerts and never seemed to come back from break on time. The guy who borrowed at least three pens from Roger, alone (he had lost count). It continued to register, in the back of the rabbit's head, that he had been talking with this cat about banal work topics, hours before, and now he was exploring the growing, warming mass in their slacks with all the... the...

"You, uh, doing all right, Rog?" Ian gasped, in between kisses. "Kinda stallin' on me, here."

"Fuck. Sorry. It's..." Roger sighed, ears flattening in embarrassment. "...It's been a while, y'know? Since I..."

"Gotcha." Nothing about Ian's tone suggested judgment, though the way his hands trailed down to cup the rabbit's soft rear belied a mild impatience. "Anything you need me to do? Should I take charge, or...?"

Roger tutted. "Come on, man. I'm not some dumb teenager, anymore."

"All right, all right. Just asking, that's all."

Roger found himself looking down at his hand, which by this point was trailing up to the cat's belt buckle. He found himself licking his chops, before shooting Ian a serious look. "Goes without saying that this doesn't leave this room."

"Of course not, Boss."

"I'm not your boss..." That was about the last bit of professionalism Roger could muster, before his eyes inexorably trailed downward. He bit his lip. One strip of leather and a zipper stood between him and the prize that lay beyond. He stared, transfixed, as it strained against the fabric of the cat's pants and traced a lewd triangular mass of burning heat, pointed straight at the rabbit.

It was at that point that his brain finally, mercifully said the two words he had wanted to say to a million different things, for the past several months:

Fuck it.

He took a deep breath, and continued, "...which is a good thing, because it means I can do this." Slowly, with the care borne of someone keenly aware of how hard the carpet was, Roger got down on his knees in front of Ian. His hands hooked into the cat's belt for stability, but also wanton greed. He was half tempted to wrench down, get what they both wanted out into the open as quickly as possible. But... no. He saw the raise of the eyebrows, the open-mouthed smirk above him. Ian was surprised, to see it headed this way. Roger felt his pulse quicken. He was going to savor this.

Fiddiling with the belt took a moment, at first, but eventually he had managed to get a thumb under it before pulling it open with a flick. Another moment of fiddling with the button, then the zipper. He took a moment to meet Ian's eyes, an impish smirk playing on his face as he began to pull slowly down. The bulge was caught against the fabric. Roger watched with delight as the base of a promisingly hefty shaft appeared, then the shaft itself. Soon Ian's penis broke free, swinging up with force nearly sufficient to strike Roger in the nose. And there he stood, a proud and throbbing mass of pink underneath a pair of fluffy, dark brown balls. The rabbit found himself licking his chops at the vague suggestion of precum that already gathered at the tapered tip.

"Oh, damn it," he muttered, half to himself. "Of course you'd have something like this, hidden away. I can't even imagine how you manage to hold it in those tight pants you wear."

"Oh, uh..." Ian chuckled. "Yeah. Thanks, Bo..."

Roger glared up, with an intensity near enough to wilt flowers.

"Uh, I mean, Roger." He chuckled, with the sort of relief that can only come from having placated somebody dangerously close to one's most sensitive bits. After another moment, he was back to smiles and confidence. "So... got any plans, down there? He's yours for the taking, after all."

Roger pouted, before leaning in and nestling his chin between the underside of Ian's member and his warm, fuzzy balls. "As if we weren't already past the permission part of things," he muttered, sardonically. Angling down, he stuck his tongue out to get a taste. Mainly, he just wanted a chance to get a smell. Roger groaned, under his breath. Hot. Musky. Unpleasant but for what it clearly represented. As he worked his way upward, his tongue felt every bump and heartbeat. He felt something sandpapery, halfway through, and then... finally! That little hint of salt that told him he had found the tip. How he had missed that hint of salt. Any efforts to allay his greed melted at that, and just a heartbeat later, he found himself closing his lips around Ian's manhood and descending.

He could hear the hitch in the cat's breath, as he made his way down. Hell, he could practically feel the hitch in his breath. For all his confident bluster at the outset, all it took was a nose against his pelvis, a questing tongue against his underside, to break that confidence. And then Roger pulled back. And then he descended, again. Their collective weight shifted, as Ian leaned back against the wall in a vain attempt at finding stability. Pull back. Descend. Were he in any other state of mind, his mouth otherwise unoccupied, Roger's lips would have curled into a smirk, victory surging through him at the thought of rendering this cat finally speechless. The gentle rasp of barbs against his tongue, however, reminded him of the task at hand.

Fingers laced their way through his hair. Ian muttered something encouraging, husky and needy down at him from almost under his breath. Roger drank it all in, his eyes drooping shut as he suckled lazily. He didn't need his eyes to feel the throb of Ian's twitching dick, or the gentle give of the cat's asscheck under his hand. He didn't need his eyes to taste the trickle of raw lust that splashed against his soft palate. He might have needed his eyes to try and negotiate the button on his own slacks, if only for a moment, but he refused to pull himself away for even that moment. Not that it mattered; even one handed, he somehow found himself slipping his fingers down into his underwear, where they circled tantalizingly around the ever warming junction between his legs.

He let out a long, throaty groan. Ian practically heaved, in his mouth. Then, suddenly, he felt a pressure on his forehead. He felt a sudden absence, as Ian pulled himself, still twitching, from Roger's grasp. Roger looked up, momentarily dumbfounded.

"Fuck, sorry," Ian gasped. "You're... real fucking good at that. Another minute of that and I'd've gone off down your throat."

"Yeah," Roger responded, in a husky but sharp murmur. "Exactly. What, were you hoping to go off on me, or something?"

Ian was about to respond, but sensing the possibility of a trap, decided against his knee-jerk response. "No, man. Nothing like that. I just figured I shouldn't be letting you do all the work, is all."

"Uh..." Roger sobered, at that. He chuckled, nervously. "Don't be silly, man. I wanna get you off. You know, since you clearly need it, and all."

"Don't give me that, Rog." The smile was back on Ian's face, despite the decidedly uncasual air about him, from the waist down. "I see where your other hand is."

Roger stared down at the hand in his pants, like one would look at an old friend turned traitor.

As Ian's hand moved from Roger's head, down to his shoulder, Roger felt words spill from his lips, haphazardly. "R-right, so... as much as I, um... like, I'm totally down for that, and all..." He felt himself being turned, stretched out into a supine position as Ian came down to his level. "...like, don't take this the wrong way. I'm just as fired up as you are, it's just..." Ian was between Roger's knees, now. The rabbit felt fingers hook into the waistband of his slacks, before his thighs and undershorts were exposed to the open air. "Ian? Just... Ian!"

Things stopped, after that. There Roger lay, his pants around his ankles. Ian sat on his knees, feline cock still jutting out proudly in front of him. The smile had left his face, and in its place was a sort of patient concern. Roger could see the gears turning, in the cat's had. Had he gone too far, he seemed to wonder. Did he do something wrong? Roger bit his lip, nervously. He took a deep breath, before hooking his thumbs into the band of his underpants, hiking his hips up, and pulling them down.

Ian's eyes widened, as Roger disentangled himself from his clothes. There, between the rabbit's legs, his puffy vulva sat, open and gently glistening in the halogen lights. The fur around it was already slightly matted with the arousal that had soaked into his underwear, which even now was filling the room with the subtle perfume of sex.

Roger scratched the back of his head, suddenly self conscious of the eyes that bore straight down at his intimate parts. "Right, so... Don't know if I should have led with this. Not like there'd've been an appropriate time to."

"Wow," Ian muttered, his gaze at once focused and scattered.

"Like, it's not like it's anyone's business, even," Roger continued, his face burning. "But, yeah. I kind of have different bits, than you were probably expecting." God, if Ian stared any harder, Roger thought, the cat might hurt himself. "I-if that's a problem, then... then, that's cool, I guess. I could still do you, or... you know, we could just... just forget ab-"

"Neat!"

Roger blinked. The dopey smile was back on the cat's face, and it somehow managed to get dopier and bigger than before. He cocked an ear forward, in curiosity.

Ian laughed. "No, uh... sorry for spacing out, there. Just threw me off for a second, is all. Had to take a moment, to try and remember all my eating out tricks."

Roger felt his face get hot, again. "E-eating out tricks? What, did you read an instruction manual, or something?"

"Pretty much," Ian said, with a shrug. "There's like, whole tutorials you can read on the Internet. I picked them up, when I was trying to impress the lead singer of Shred Burrow; I told you about her, right?" Roger's look of scandalized befuddlement was enough to convince Ian to drop the topic. "A-anyway... yeah, no, this is fine, man. I can keep going. Just gimme the thumbs up, and we're good."

Roger bit his lip, exhaled through his nose, and nodded. "Might as well see if you found anything worth a damn online."

Ian only chuckled, before getting down on his stomach and placing his head between Roger's thighs.

Roger tried to strangle a gasp, before it could leave his throat, as he felt the first contact of warm tongue against warmer lips. Ian traced a careful circuit of Roger's vulva, as if he were more interested in cleaning up the juices that had already escaped than probing into their source. Vague pressure from muzzle, whisker and nose sent jolts from the rabbits clitoris, whenever it was disturbed. And yet, Ian did not deign to move upward, just yet. Perhaps he was probing its sensitivity. Perhaps he was just being a massive tease. Roger was powerless to care. His fingers laced through Ian's hair, breath escaping his lungs in raspy half-moans. Ian dug in deeper, wedging the rabbit open with one side of his muzzle to lap at the musky treasures, further in. A pair of fingers joined the tongue, giving Roger that faintest ghost of a feeling of being filled, before the cat's tongue bean to explore further up.

"Fuck..." His legs flexed, uselessly, as he felt wet tongue hit the underside of his clit. "Ian, I..." He gasped, as his sensitive button was completely wrapped in fuzzy lips. "Oh, no... Ia...fuck, Ian! S-slow down, I..."

Ian didn't look up. His eyes, barely open, were set in a scowl of concentration. His fingers pumped in and out of Roger's slit. As he lay, turned sideways on one hip, Roger got a clear view of the cat's other hand, as it absently flexed around his glistening, drooling cock. Roger stared, transfixed, at the pearling beads of precum, the twitching, full, fuzzy balls beneath silently begging to loose themselves in... in...

"Aaaaa-aaaaah!"

Ian grunted, in shock, as Roger's hands pressed down and his thighs pressed in. The rabbit's entire body from the chest down spasmed once, twice, thrice. The rabbit's face was a mask of strangled pleasure, his top teeth struggling to keep his lower lip still and his needy moans stifled into full-throated yips. When things finally died down, and he could feel the rabbit's feet drop back down to the floor, Ian pulled himself up. "Wow," he muttered. "That was quicker than I'm used to seeing."

"I-its..." Roger gasped, his face burning for multiple reasons, "...it's been a... while."

"Yeah. Feels like you needed that, something awful."

Roger pulled himself up onto his elbows. "Guess I did."

They sat there in silence, for a bit. Roger's eyes naturally found themselves leaving Ian's face, to the pearly tip that still poked out from the cat's hand.

"Hey, uh... You good, Rog? Need a second to catch your breath, or...?"

Roger felt one corner of his mouth turn up in a smirk. "No, no. I'm just noticing that I'm not the only one who's looking a bit needy, right now."

"Oh, yeah. I mean, do you want to just suck me again, because I'd be cool with... Oh."

As he spoke, Roger tucked his legs in and rolled over to get on hands and knees. Ian's eyes fixated on the rabbit's fuzzy rump, the nervous flit of a slightly matted tail. Roger reached around to pull aside one cheek, to better reveal his still glistening slit. The rabbit gave Ian a half-lidded smirk, his mouth opening to say... something.

At least, that was the plan. It really felt, at least in his head, like Roger needed to punctuate the position he had himself in with something, some sultry, inviting phrase that would really seal the whole thing together. However, as much as his mouth worked, his mind failed to bring any such phrase up. Eventually, the awkward silence became a bit much; he abandoned the effort.

Not that Ian seemed to mind. A moment later, he was on his knees behind Roger, carefully lining himself up. Roger felt the tapered tip of feline penis thrumming against his pussy lips, the electric sensations working to soothe any lingering awkwardness he felt. "Fuck." Ian paused, tip buried in the rabbit. "This... this is all right, Rog? I don't have any..."

Roger shook his head, defiantly. "I'm on anti-heats. It's fine just..." He inched back against Ian, slowly. "D-don't give me a chance to think about it."

"You got it, Boss," Ian replied, squashing any protest from Roger by lining himself up and pressing forward. He took a moment to get settled, to feel the warmth of rump against his thighs and the hot twitching around his member, before clamping his hands down on the rabbit's hips, pulling back, and pressing forward. Roger forgot to keep his mouth shut; the warble that slipped out of his mouth awoke something primal in Ian.

Soon, they were fucking in earnest. Roger pressed his elbows against the bottom of a shelving unit. He made desperate gasps and half-words down at the carpet as his entire lower body was thrown forward with the force of Ian's rutting. All efforts at patience and understanding on the cat's part became less and less prominent with every thrust. In its place rose a growling, possessive weight that bore into the rabbit's hindquarters, hell-bent on a peak that had long since been denied him. It was all Roger could do to keep himself steady, as he was stabbed into over and over again. Tiny barbs tickled at his insides. The air was suffused with the smell of sweat and sex, the sound of wet, staccato slaps.

"F-fuck!" Roger managed to blurt out, in between warbling moans. "Don't sto-aaaah-stop!"

"Rrrgh!" Ian's fingers curled in. Roger felt the faintest hint of claws dig into his fur. "I'm... getting real close!"

Roger pulled a hand underneath him, fingers working in a frantic circle around his clit, as he angled down to give Ian better access. "Don't you dare stop! Let it all out! B..." His brain fought against the sentence that sat on his lips, but it was only for a moment against the rising orgasm that flooded his thoughts. "Breed me, you stupid cat!"

"Shit..." Ian's breath became more ragged, his thrusts sharper as he leaned over Roger's body. He missed the beat once, then twice, before finally letting out a deep groan and pressing forward with the full weight of his hips. Roger growled into the carpet, as he felt pulse after frenzied pulse blast their way deep into him. His own orgasm, hard-fought by the desperate circles his fingers traced, was not far behind. Soon, he was flexing against his spasming intruder, milking it of every drop of hot cum that filled him. The two remained locked together, riding out the wave of their mutual bliss, before Roger felt Ian begin to soften and retreat from his loins.

"Oh, jeez," Ian muttered. "You good, Rog? I think I heard you pop, again."

"Can you just...?" Roger whined into the carpet, smiling in half-delirium. "Can't snark, right now. Too warm."

Suddenly, he felt a weight against his back and hindquarters. Simultaneous thrill and trepidation shot through him as he felt hands wrap around his chest. Was Ian about to go again? But, then he felt himself pulled to his side, where Ian nuzzled up against him, legs entangled for maximum body contact. Deep purrs rumbled into the rabbit's shoulder, as cheek rubbed against cheek. He was momentarily confused, but soon he realized that this was also a fine state to be in.

Ian froze a moment. "Sorry. I should have asked. I get, uh... cuddly, when I..."

"No, no," Roger protested. "Cuddly's fine. Er, that is... um..." He cleared his throat, sobering just a bit as the feeling of cum dribbling down his thigh really started to sink in. "I mean, I said before, we kinda sailed past permission, a while ago."

"Right, right. Sorry." Ian resumed purring, completely betraying any lack of confidence he had. "I'm just glad to see you loosening up, a bit. You really deserve a break or two."

Roger stared at the opposite wall, self-consciously. "What's this? You're concerned for me, or something?"

"Not just me. The folks in your department have nothing but good things to say about you. How you're always looking out for them, picking up their slack, trying to understand their problems. And, what with earnings deadlines coming in, and all..."

"Hey, I'm handling it as well as I can. It's not like this is the first time I've had to deal with deadlines."

"Nobody says you can't. I just think they wanted to find something they could do for you, since you wind up doing so much for them, all the time."

"Wait..." Roger tensed, his face practically on fire. "Oh, gawd! Are you saying that my coworkers seriously wanted to help me by getting me laid?"

"I mean, not in as many words, but..."

"All right, no! No, that's..." Roger fumbled around in his breast pocket for a second, cursed to himself, and turned around so he could look Ian in the eye. "Dammit, Ian. Just... pretend I got the glasses on."

Ian's face fell. He nodded, dumbly.

Roger took a deep breath, his voice coming to him clear, deep and final. "This can not be a thing, all right? I'm already going to have to talk to Shirley and Carol about their little..." His eyes wandered to the closet they were in. He tried to ignore the slickness around his crotch as he continued. "...their little escapades. I've already shot myself in the foot, clearly, by letting you and me happen, but this is it. All right? No more fucking at work, from literally anybody, or so help me, I'm going to report everyone (including myself) to HR. Am I being clear?"

"Y-yes, Boss!" Ian yelped. "Sorry, Boss! I-I mean, Roger!"

"Good." Roger sighed, disentangling himself from the cat's grip so he could sit up. "Good..." He shook his head. "I mean, for fuck's sake, we all have bedrooms, presumably."

Ian began to fumble back into his pants. "Presumably. It's just that some of us don't seem to ever want to go back to theirs."

Roger chuckled. "Maybe I would, if I had stronger motivation."

The two of them smiled at each other, basking in the silence. Then, Ian's brow knitted. "So, that means that you-"

"I would be very much okay with you railing me again," Roger interrupted, "provided it's not at work."

There was a witty rejoinder on Ian's lips, but the sound of a chime in his pocket drew his attention. Fishing in his pants, he produced his phone, staring for a moment at the screen before pulling his pants up and getting to his feet. "That's my sister. Looks like she's in the parking lot." Quickly, he made his way to the door, pausing for a moment to look back. "You should expect my number on your desk, tomorrow morning. Try and get some sleep."

"Yeah. G'night, Ian."

And with that, Roger was left to sit in the closet, slowly working to cover himself, again. The mingled fluids in his pussy were stanched, somewhat, by the relatively untainted underwear that he put over himself. Though, no amount of covering up was going to make the smell any less obvious, at least to him. At this point, a shower and a good night's sleep were starting to sound especially good. As he made his way back to his cubicle, noting as he did that the maintenance people were no doubt minutes away from showing up, the thought of being literally anywhere but the site of his illicit activity was starting to sound even better.

As he went to go grab his keys and glasses, however, his hand bumped against the mouse. The screen flickered to life, showing him the work that had still to be done.

He scowled.

Almost mechanically, his eyes went to the calendar on his cubicle wall, at the ever increasing line of "x's" leading straight to the deadline date.

His scowl deepened.

He spared one last look out the window, at the beaten down sedan that was pulling out of the parking lot, his coworker in tow.

And then he sat himself down at his desk and resumed coding.