Fic: Executive Toy [TVXQ RPS | AU] 1/2
Title: Executive Toy
Fandom: TVXQ
Pairing: Changmin/Yunho
Rating: NC17
Summary: A good secretary will anticipate his boss’s every need.
Notes: AU. For the prompt ‘boss/secretary’ in diagon’s Twelve Months of HoMin challenge.
Executive Toy
Yunho wakes up and comes face to face with Happy the Rhinopillar. The plushie’s big beaming smile confuses him for a moment, and then he sits up with a start. Jetlag swings around his head, the dizziness stretching and quivering. Sunlight is pouring through the panoramic windows of his office, but his body clock is telling him it’s the middle of the night. He doesn’t even know what time zone his head is in. East coast USA, perhaps, though he’d stopped in Helsinki and again in Munich, and then he was in New Delhi, and finally he’d spent a couple of hours in Shanghai.
He rubs both hands over his face. Ugh, he’s drooled on Happy again. Gross. He really needs to stop using the Rhinopillar as a pillow. There’s a perfectly good couch on the other side of his office, with a perfectly good nest of cushions and even a nice fluffy blanket if he needs to take a nap, but somehow Yunho always finds himself asleep at his desk.
Not that he makes a habit of falling asleep at his desk, but still. He yawns, cuddles Happy to his chest, tucks his chin on the Rhinopillar’s head, and blinks at the line-up of pocket toy prototypes he’d brought back with him from the factory in China. The Rhinopillar, Octopig, Giraffopede, Squireel and Meerdeer are the most popular virtual pets from Mash-Up Monsters, the educational social networking MMOG site he’d created a few years ago and which now has seventy million registered users worldwide and a market value of two hundred million US dollars.
He picks up the Giraffopede and activates it. It wobbles across the desk towards its friends and chirrups at them. If all the toys were switched on they’d have a conversation, and he’d be able to talk to them, too. Mash-Up Monsters have their own language, one he’d developed with the help of child psychologists, and when the toys go into full production, they’ll be able to cross-reference Mash-Up language with their owners’ native tongues and provide a fully interactive learning experience.
Even his exhaustion can’t dent his enthusiasm. Yunho activates all the toys and sets them chattering to one another. The Meerdeer seems a little shy, so he places it next to the Squireel. The Giraffopede takes a walk off the side of his desk and flails around on the carpet. Yunho reaches down and retrieves it, puts it beside the Octopig. The little Rhinopillar has wandered over to Happy and is bumping against it as if it recognises its big brother.
Yunho smiles at the toys. He’s so proud he could burst. All the long hours, the endless travelling, the jetlag, the lack of a social life and the constant nagging fear that he’s not quite good enough-it all fades when he looks at his cute little Mash-Up Monsters making friends with one another. He can’t wait to launch these toys and bring delight to tens of thousands of children.
He yawns again and turns off the prototypes, arranges them around Happy at the head of his desk, and then drags his laptop towards him. A glance at the clock in the bottom right hand corner of the screen tells him he’s been asleep for about forty minutes. Yunho stretches in his chair, moaning a little at how good it feels, then turns his attention to work.
His secretary has sent the minutes of the first three meetings they attended today. Yunho can’t even remember what happened in those meetings. Thank God he has Changmin, who is not only shit-hot at taking notes and typing them up and arranging them all logically, but also just shit-hot in general. Another email is from Donghae, his closest friend and the head of the software programming team that does all of the clever stuff to turn Yunho’s ideas into reality. The rest are from clients and investors and potential investors.
Except for one. There’s an email amongst all the others that has no subject line, which is unusual in itself. It doesn’t have the sender’s name, either. Weird. Maybe it’s spam. Yunho quite likes spam, as long as it’s not that guy in Nigeria again. At least five games on the Mash-Up Monsters site were inspired by spam, so he clicks on the email.
You left your watch in conference room 3B. You shouldn’t be so careless.
Yunho frowns at the message. No signature. It’s not from a company email address, either. He glances at his wrist, which is indeed minus his watch. It’s a bad habit he has, taking his watch off whenever he goes into a meeting. Donghae always says he doesn’t need to time the proceedings because Changmin does that. Ever since Changmin started working here, their meetings have never run over and have always been on point. But that’s not why Yunho likes to take his watch off. He’s not timing things; he’s trying to forget time, to signify that the creative process and a workable solution is more important than the length of time it takes to achieve those goals. Or so he likes to think, anyway.
He looks at the email. Thank you, he types in reply, then pauses, staring at the second sentence. It digs at him a little, so he adds, I’m not careless. Just forgetful. And I have jetlag. That sounds rude and abrupt. He thinks some more and writes: But thank you all the same.
Wondering why the mystery writer couldn’t just send a message through the company email, Yunho gets up to fetch his watch. He opens his office door and pauses for a moment, looking around the large, well lit open-plan space. The main office area is divided into sections. Over to the left is where the games testing takes place. Donghae hired a Chinese-Canadian exchange student as a paid intern, and Henry sends dozens of excitable emails every day detailing his opinions of the games and site design.
The office next to Yunho’s is supposed to be for Donghae, but he prefers to occupy a cubicle on one side of the open-plan area so he can keep an eye on the software team. Yunho thinks this actually means ‘so he can hit on attractive staff members who walk past’.
Speaking of attractive staff members... Yunho glances at Changmin, who’s talking on the phone as he searches through the contents of a box file. Yunho had hired him as the antithesis of his previous secretary, who had disapproved of anything computer-related and was fond of telling everyone that online games stunted a child’s emotional growth and that concepts such as the Rhinopillar were dangerous because susceptible children might believe that such animals really existed. When Yunho proposed a spin-off series of games and toys based on Burgess Shale creatures, the secretary quit citing religious differences. Until then, Yunho had had no idea that his secretary was such a devout Creationist.
Changmin is completely different. He’s beautiful, for a start, and buttoned-up and starchy with a mind like a steel trap and a mouth like sin and cheekbones that could bend light. He’s terrifyingly organised and always impeccably turned out. Once Yunho had gently reminded him that the company’s dress code was casual, and Changmin had fixed his big dark eyes on Yunho and nodded and came into work the next day with his collar unbuttoned and a cravat around his neck.
Yunho hasn’t admitted this to anyone, but he created the Meerdeer with Changmin in mind. Always watchful and cautious, swaying about the office on coltish legs that go on forever, yet capable of ferocity when crossed. The number of times Yunho has overheard Changmin on the telephone berating some poor sod for a late delivery of staples and paperclips, or haranguing deficient airline staff or churlish hotel receptionists.
Changmin is very, very good at his job. Which is a shame, because if he was less good at his job, Yunho would have asked him out months ago.
Conference room 3B is up on the mezzanine floor. Yunho finds his watch exactly where he’d left it. He makes his way back across the office, yawning and slow-witted, and hesitates beside the drinks machine. Maybe caffeine will wake him up, or give him enough energy to get through the next few hours. He presses a couple of buttons and leans against the machine while it chugs and whirrs. Next thing he knows, Donghae is shaking him by the shoulder and holding up a waxed paper cup of a random hot beverage.
“Dude, you fell asleep waiting for the machine to deliver your latte.” Donghae peers at him, shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have come in today. We can cope without you for five minutes, you know.”
Yunho takes the latte and manages a tired smile. “I know. But...”
“Workaholics. Will never understand them.” Donghae slings an arm around him as they saunter across the office. “Hey, while you’re half asleep and jetlagged, I’m totally going to take advantage and get you to sign off on my expense account.”
“Nice try, bro.” Yunho shrugs out of Donghae’s grasp, slopping coffee down the side of the cup. “All expenses need to go across Secretary Shim’s desk before I sign them.”
“Dude.” Donghae pretends to look aggrieved. “Changmin gets all hardcore when I give him my expenses. I have to justify every little thing. It’s like being interrogated or something. It’s bad for my rep, man.”
Yunho tries not to laugh. “Well, there was that time when you tried to claim an escort’s services on company expenses...”
“Bro, not fair!” Donghae makes a woeful face. “That was just a joke.”
“Sure it was.” Yunho pauses by Donghae’s cubicle and holds out his hand. “C’mon, give me your expenses.”
“Aww, this is why I love you, man. You’re the best boss.” Donghae pulls several stapled sheets from a drawer. “Thanks, dude.”
“No problem.” Yunho takes the paperwork and drops it onto Changmin’s desk. “Secretary Shim, here are Lee Donghae’s expenses. Please go over them carefully.”
“I totally hate you, Jung Yunho!” Donghae shouts across the office.
Changmin purses his perfect, gorgeous lips and flicks through the expense sheets. He swivels in his chair and reaches for another box file, places it on the adjacent section of his L-shaped desk and riffles through the papers. His position has made his suit jacket ride up at the back as he leans forward, so Yunho casually sprawls across the desk and reads the weekly planner upside down, using this as cover for a bit of surreptitious staring at Changmin’s ass.
“Are you checking for anything specific, sir?”
“Uh,” Yunho says, taking a sip of his latte as Changmin straightens and turns in his seat, “I was just wondering when the video conference with the CCTV-14 people was taking place.”
“Next Wednesday at ten o’clock.” Changmin doesn’t even have to look at the planner. “I sent you an email about it.”
“You know I’m bad with emails.” Yunho gives him an apologetic smile. “You have to tell me.”
“I’ll put a Post-It on the Rhinopillar to remind you.”
Yunho wrinkles his nose. “You can’t do that. Happy won’t like it.”
Changmin gives him a droll look and picks up the phone. “Yes, sir. I’ll remind you verbally, then. Now if you’ll excuse me...”
Thus dismissed, Yunho goes back into his office and finishes his coffee. He waggles the laptop mouse and his screensaver vanishes, revealing fifteen new emails, mostly on the company mailing list. Changmin is always telling him to unsubscribe from the list because it’s not his place to worry about low toner in the photocopier or a broken lock in the female staff toilets. Yunho keeps himself on it, though, because he likes knowing what’s going on. Sometimes there’s a flurry of gossip or a conversation that should have been private but accidentally got cross-posted. Also he likes reading the lunch order when it goes around, and occasionally he’ll ask for something, and then Changmin will come in looking cross and say something like “Sir, you don’t need to place your lunch order through the general list, you can just call me and I will fetch it for you”, and Yunho always responds that Changmin is so busy and he didn’t want to disturb him, and Changmin looks irritated-amused and says, “But sir, this is my job,” or, more recently, “You’re impossible, sir.”
Yunho flicks through the emails, reads an exchange between Henry and Donghae that seems to be rather cryptic-Dude i did it LOLOL, Henry wrote, to which Donghae had replied with LMAO dude-but that could refer to anything. Sandwiched in between a discussion about the height and width of the cheese plant in reception and whether it was breaching health and safety regulations was a reply to the email he’d sent earlier.
I worded that all wrong. You’re careless with yourself.
This gives Yunho pause. He types back: What do you mean?
Whoever is sending these emails is still logged on, because the reply comes back straight away: You need someone to look after you. Someone to take care of you.
A little frisson creeps up Yunho’s spine. He clicks on the email header to check the sender ID. It’s an account on a generic web-based email provider and the name is a jumble of letters and numbers. Nothing meaningful, nothing that could give him a clue as to the identity of his correspondent. It could be anyone. He thinks it’s someone having a laugh, but maybe it isn’t. It could be Mrs Kang in Accounts, who always fusses over him and brings him homemade pickles and kimchi, but maybe it isn’t. It could be Mr Cheon the janitor, but maybe it isn’t.
He responds: I don’t need anyone.
You do, says the reply. You run yourself ragged looking out for everyone else but you never take care of yourself. You need to relax. You need a firm hand to guide you.
Yunho shifts in his seat and wonders if it’s wrong to get turned on by the words ‘firm hand’. This whole thing is so silly. It’s probably Donghae messing around as revenge for the thing with the expense sheets. Yunho is so sure it’s a prank that he plays along with it: Sounds like you want to punish me.
Computer silence for a while, and then: It wouldn’t be punishment.
What, then? Yunho giggles as he types. You’d make sure I enjoyed it?
You’re misunderstanding me.
Yunho feels bad. Emails don’t have expressional tones, but this one looks disappointed all the same. He pushes the mouse pointer around the screen for a bit and then responds: I’m sorry. I thought you were just playing a stupid game.
Nothing for a long time. Yunho waits for a few minutes then attends to a couple of other emails on work-related issues, but his mind keeps clicking back to the exchange with his unknown correspondent. It’s interfering with his focus. Eventually he re-reads the whole conversation again, and as he reaches the end, a new message pops up.
Would you like to play a game with me?
He hesitates for a moment. Curiosity wins out over caution. He replies: Yes.
Good boy.
A kick of lust floors him. Just seeing those two words in black and white wakes something eager and impulsive inside him. Hands shaking just slightly, he types: What do I have to do?
The reply is immediate. Come to work tomorrow without underwear. I want you to wear the cream trousers. The tight ones.
Yunho lets out his breath. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, and he’s a little disappointed. Regardless, he’s agreed to it; he may as well see it through. He writes: Okay, I’ll do it.
A pause, and then the response: I know you will.
* * *
Yunho spends the whole of the next day utterly self-conscious about his lack of underwear. The cream-coloured trousers seem tighter than usual, and he’s sure people are staring at him. In fact, he’s positive that the receptionists both checked out his junk when he entered the foyer and said hello this morning. And it’s not just the receptionists, either. Henry had given him a weird look in the washroom, and Changmin had seemed vaguely startled, his gaze dipping down for a split-second when Yunho had stopped in front of his desk to ask about a report on financial projections. Only Donghae didn’t seem to notice, but then Donghae often spoke about the benefits of going commando so maybe he assumed that every guy walked around without underwear.
There’s no email from his unknown correspondent until lunchtime.
You did as I asked, Unknown Correspondent writes. I’m delighted.
Relief washes over him. Yunho hadn’t realised he was so tense about this. He’s not sure why the opinion of some faceless pervert is suddenly so important to him, but it is. Maybe it’s because Yunho always likes to do his best in everything. He likes making people happy. Even if they are faceless perverts. It’s uncomfortable, he types.
Of course it is, comes the reply. You’re on display for me. Everyone is talking about it. They’re all fantasising about spreading you across your desk and freeing your gorgeous huge cock from those trousers. They’re all wondering why you did it, but I’m the only one who knows.
Arousal squirms around inside Yunho. Ugh, he’s so tragic, getting hot over something so ridiculous, but he can’t help himself. He types: I did it for you.
Yes, you did. You’re such a good boy.
The praise goes to his head. Yunho pulls Happy towards him and buries his face against the plushie’s soft body, quivering.
* * *
The next few days bring a flurry of commands from Unknown Correspondent, or UC as Yunho has started to think of him. He supposes UC could be a woman. Mash-Up Monsters has plenty of female computer techs and designers who could’ve set this up, but Yunho hopes it’s a man who’s doing this to him. If UC is a woman, then she seems to like the idea of him getting it on with another guy, because for a while UC’s orders involve him touching several of his male employees, starting with Donghae. It's never anything inappropriate; just the kind of casual, friendly gestures he usually makes-a hand clasp, a fist bump, a playful push-and yet now it's imbued with a meaning it never had before.
UC never asks him to touch any of the female staff, which is a relief in many ways, but it also makes him think that UC knows his preferences. And he’s not exactly out and proud at work, which narrows the field.
Unless he’s really obvious. Which could be the case. He often thinks he’s really subtle and then it turns out that he’s not at all.
The cruellest command was the one that UC delivered yesterday morning: I forbid you to touch yourself. No jerking off without my permission. This is especially bad as Yunho had started getting himself off every night fantasising about what UC might order him to do next. His daydreams ran the gamut from attending a board meeting and being forced to service all the executives on his knees, to imagining himself stripped naked and shoved up against his office window while someone fucked into him from behind, or-his favourite-he delivers a motivational speech all wrong and Changmin makes him bend over the desk and spanks him and tells him he’s a disgrace and needs a lot of correction.
The latter scenario made him come really, really hard.
Yunho doesn’t know if he can survive the rest of the week without jerking off, especially when he keeps thinking about his Strict Changmin fantasy. So it’s incredibly ironic that when he looks at his work emails on his phone while he eats breakfast, the one from UC says: Stroke Secretary Shim’s leg when you’re in the lift together.
Yunho gets a little fluttery at the thought of it and then thinks this’ll be the easiest order he’s followed, because usually he arrives at the office building at the same time as Changmin and they ride the lift together with at least five other people, and when the lift is that full it’ll be no trouble at all to brush up against someone and give them a completely accidental little caress.
Yeah, easy. Piece of cake.
Except it’s not, because when he gets downtown there’s a delivery van in his parking space and he has to drive around for five minutes until the interloper leaves, and when he sprints into the foyer it’s just in time to see the lift doors close. He has to stand by the gigantic cheese plant and make polite chat with the receptionists, who always seem to stare at his crotch these days and never at his face, until the lift comes back down.
When he reaches his office, Yunho picks up Happy and squishes the Rhinopillar hard as he tries to think of an excuse to get Changmin back into the lift. They have two meetings scheduled for today, according to the note Changmin left on his desk. Both are on this floor. No lift necessary. Short of setting off the fire alarm, which will render the lift out of bounds anyway, Yunho can’t think how best to carry out UC’s order.
He waits until midday, calls Changmin, and asks him to go out and pick up some sushi for lunch. Changmin wants to know exactly what type of sushi he should buy and if Yunho has any preference as to which shop it comes from. Yunho almost suggests they go and buy it together, but that would look too suspicious, so he just says “Buy anything, I’m sure I’ll like it”, and cuts the call.
After a few minutes, he opens his office door and peers out. Changmin isn’t at his desk. Success! Yunho heads towards the lift, but Henry calls out, wanting to talk to him about adding extra levels onto the Hippeep game, and then Mrs Kang from Accounts starts telling him about her cousin’s sister-in-law’s five-year-old who loves Mash-Up Monsters, and Yunho begins to fret that Changmin will arrive back with the sushi and he’ll have missed his chance again.
Finally he gets into the lift and makes it down to the foyer without being collared by anyone else. The receptionists stare at the front of his trousers again so he turns his back and gives them the more unprepossessing view of his ass while he looks out of the window in search of Changmin and his lunch.
He waits ten minutes. This, added to the time he lost when Henry and Mrs Kang were talking to him, means that Changmin has been away from his desk for almost half an hour. Yunho wonders if there’s a queue at the shop. Or maybe Changmin is actually rolling the sushi himself. And catching the fish, too.
Or-or maybe there’s been an accident. Yunho doesn’t like this thought. He paces around the foyer and wonders if he should call Changmin. Then he remembers he left his phone upstairs underneath Happy. Just as he’s deciding to ask the receptionists to call instead, Changmin pushes through the revolving doors and walks in. He’s carrying a paper bag with the logo of an upmarket sushi restaurant printed on the side, and he looks puzzled when Yunho hurries towards him.
“Sir, did something happen? Is there an emergency?”
“No. Nothing like that. I was...” Yunho casts around for some way to explain why he’s obviously hanging about in the foyer. “I was waiting. For my lunch. Because I’m hungry. You were gone for hours.”
Changmin frowns and checks his watch. “Thirty-six minutes, sir. I do apologise. I wanted the sushi to be freshly prepared for you.”
“Thanks.” Yunho sidles over to the lift and presses the call button.
Changmin gives him an odd look and murmurs “Thank you, sir” when Yunho stands aside and lets him enter the lift first. It’s just the two of them in there, and the lift seems huge and echoing. There’s no way to be subtle about this. Yunho leans close and looks into the bag. “What did you get?”
“Sayori, sesame tofu, sea cucumber, sakura rice mochi...” Changmin recites, and hands him the bag.
Yunho is so focused on his allotted task that he’s a bit slow with everything else. The bag slips through his fingers and drops onto the floor. They both go to retrieve it. Yunho is faster and finds himself crouched down with his head level with Changmin’s thighs. He blinks. This is it. Now’s his chance. He grabs the bag with one hand and quickly, almost imperceptibly, runs his free hand up Changmin’s calf to the back of his knee.
Changmin freezes. Draws in an audible breath.
Aw, crap. Yunho freezes too, scrumpling the top of the paper bag.
“Sir.” Changmin’s voice is low and husky, and Yunho glances up at him, hoping he doesn’t look too guilty.
Changmin is staring down at him, cool and composed and so fucking tall. “I don’t think that’s very appropriate, sir, do you?”
Yunho almost whimpers. He should not get turned on so easily. It’s because he’s not allowed to jerk off, that’s what’s done it. And it’s the way Changmin says sir. Oh shit, it’s hot, ridiculously so, and now he’s hard, goddamn he’s so hard he could drive nails through concrete just because Changmin said one little word and looked down at him. And then Yunho goes hot and cold with realisation, because it’s not so much the ‘sir’ that did it; it’s the fact that he’s on his knees and Changmin is standing up. Standing above him. Over him.
Oh God, this is bad. In a good way.
“Sir,” Changmin says. He sounds concerned. “Sir, are you all right?”
“Um?” Yunho realises he’s still on his knees. This will look so weird if the lift stops right now.
The lift stops and the doors roll open.
Yunho bolts upright. This time, the sushi falls out of the bag and splats onto the floor. He stares at it. “Crap. Oh... crap.”
Changmin shakes his head, sighs, and walks out into the office, leaving Yunho scrabbling after the mess of his lunch.
* * *
Next day, Yunho wakes up with a raging hard-on and the lingering memory of a dream in which he’d gone into the office naked and Changmin had stroked him with feathers and rabbit fur while reading out the findings of the latest focus group on the Mash-Up Monsters cartoon series. Of course, now he’s awake he can’t remember what the focus group thought of the show.
He definitely didn’t come in his dream, he knows that much. He wants to come now, wants to jack off hard and fast, but he’d promised UC that he wouldn’t touch himself and he tries very hard to keep his promises.
Very and hard being the operative words.
He rolls over and traps the duvet between his legs. Humps it a little. Wonders if it’s cheating if he gets himself off rubbing against something rather than doing it by hand. Technically he’s not touching himself. Yeah, that’s his excuse and-
His phone beeps with an email alert. Yunho groans and squirms across the bed to look at the message. It’s from UC: You’ve been such a good boy I think you deserve a reward today.
Guilt pokes at Yunho as he thinks of how close he came to disobedience. He sits up and types hopefully: Can I touch myself again?
No, UC replies. I’m going to touch you instead.
Oh God. Yunho has to throw the duvet off because even the lightest touch of anything over his erection right now is going to kill him. Yes please he writes, and has to backspace a few times because he keeps hitting the keys in the wrong order.
Wear the white t-shirt with the deep v-neck, UC orders. The one you wore to the Wiwaxia launch party.
Yunho stares at the screen. The launch party was five months ago. He hasn’t worn that t-shirt since. Not to work, anyway. I don’t like wearing it he types, then deletes the sentence. He hasn’t had time to go to the gym for a couple of months now and he knows he’s put on a bit of weight, and when he gains weight it goes straight to his chest and things get kind of jiggly up there.
But if he refuses to wear the t-shirt, then UC won’t touch him, and he thinks he needs that more than he’s worried about his body issues.
Okay, he writes. I’ll find it.
You’re my good boy, UC responds, and Yunho feels incredible.
He goes to the office in black jeans and with the requested t-shirt worn beneath a blazer. Yep, he’s definitely gained weight. The t-shirt is a lot tighter than it was five months ago, and the neckline slashes down to the middle of his chest, so it feels like there’s a lot of flesh on display.
At least the receptionists don’t stare at his junk this morning.
It takes half an hour before UC sends him an email: Stop hiding. Take the jacket off and come out here so I can see you.
Yunho shrugs out of his blazer immediately and hangs it over the back of his chair. He likes that he doesn’t need to think in this situation. With UC, the decisions are made for him. Small, silly decisions, maybe; but nonetheless, it seems to make things easier. It’s not like his job is particularly stressful-not like being a surgeon or a stock market trader-but since this... thing with UC began, he’s felt a lot lighter in his mind. Less stagnant.
He finishes reading the rest of his work emails and then goes out into the main office, wandering around casually so UC can see that he’s obeyed his instructions. Henry flags him down and they talk about the new Giraffopede mathematics mini-game, and then Yunho calls Donghae over to discuss a couple of issues. Donghae swaggers across, takes one look at Yunho’s t-shirt and says, “Dude, lay off the pies, yeah?”
Yunho feels his face burn. He can’t think of a snappy retort quick enough so he gives Donghae a playful shove instead and turns the conversation to the mini-game. While Henry demonstrates the problem and Donghae watches, Yunho steps back and crosses his arms over his chest. He wishes he was still wearing the blazer.
“Think I know how to make that more stable.” Donghae jots down notes on one of the beer mats Henry uses in place of Post-Its. He straightens, looks at the way Yunho’s standing, and grins. “Bro, don’t fold your arms like that. It’s giving you cleavage.”
“You’re such a dick.” Yunho aims a pretend kick at Donghae’s ass. “Fix my Giraffopedes before I sack you for gross incompetence.”
“Dude, I own a quarter of the company!”
“You’re still a dick.” Yunho hustles Donghae back to his workspace then returns to his office, pausing by Changmin’s desk on the way. “Any post?”
“Sir.” Changmin’s gaze flickers down to Yunho’s chest for just a moment before he picks up a couple of letters and hands them over. “These are the only things of any importance that need a reply in the next few days. I would appreciate, however, if you could give them your attention sooner rather than later.”
“I’ll look at them now. Thank you.” Yunho takes the letters into his office, scanning each one and reading the annotations Changmin has made in the margins. He sorts them into order of reply and props them against Happy’s body, then goes to check his email.
There’s a message from UC waiting for him, time-stamped seventeen minutes ago: God, you’re magnificent.
It’s such an opposite reaction to the one he got from Donghae that it almost hurts. Yunho curls a hand into the neckline of his t-shirt and types with one finger: At least I know you’re not Donghae.
The message comes back: How do you know that?
Because, Yunho replies, if you wanted to take care of me the way you say you do, you wouldn’t laugh at me in one moment and then say nice things the next.
A pause, and then: You’re right. I wouldn’t.
Yunho types: So you’re not Donghae? He thinks about it, then deletes the question mark. He wants to sound certain.
Does it matter who I am?
The question makes Yunho pause. He’s not going to lie, he’ll be disappointed if UC turns out to be Mr Cheon the janitor or Mrs Kang in Accounts after all, but at the same time, he likes this, likes how it makes him feel. It’s weird, but he feels the way UC wants him to feel-cared for. He hadn’t expected that, but now he’s got it, he doesn’t want to lose it. If the price of that is UC’s continued anonymity, then right now Yunho is willing to go along with it.
It might be a different matter in the long term, though.
Drawing in a breath, Yunho writes: It doesn’t matter who you are. I like what you do for me.
UC writes: But do you understand why I’m doing it?
Yunho thinks about this for several moments before replying: At first I thought it was some sort of game. Even when I kind of knew you were being serious about it, it was still a game. The no underwear thing, and when you asked me to touch Donghae etc-I mean, I felt silly. It was sexy, too, but mainly it just felt like a game that I could walk away from whenever I wanted.
UC responds directly: What made you change your mind?
Yunho exhales, rubs at the back of his neck. He looks at Happy for moral support. The Rhinopillar grins back at him. Yesterday, Yunho types, and then stares at the cursor for a while, trying to organise his thoughts. When you asked me to touch Changmin and I was late, and I had to make up an excuse to send him out of the office just so I could get into the lift with him and do what you asked. That was difficult. I almost didn’t go through with it. And then I realised I *wanted* to go through with it. Not just because you’d told me to, but because I wanted to do it. And even though I dropped my lunch and he probably thinks I’m creepy and moronic now, I felt good afterwards. As good as I did when I first launched the company. Or when I first held the plushie Rhinopillar. Does that sound weird?
He can’t do anything at all while he waits for the reply. His mouth is dry. He doesn’t usually open himself up like this, and he doesn’t even know why he’s doing it now. It must be because UC is faceless and doesn’t seem to judge him. UC asks things of him but doesn’t seem to want anything from him. Not anything material, anyway. He just... suggests, and Yunho follows those suggestions and feels good when he completes a task. In an odd sort of way, Yunho thinks he trusts UC.
It’s not weird, UC writes. You always think about pleasing other people. You try to make them happy. You always look outwards. You’re always thinking about the future and how you could do better. You need to learn how to look at yourself today, right here and now, and you need to know that someone cares about you. That’s why we’re doing this. You need to know that I will look after you.
The message makes Yunho feel shaky and light-headed. He leans towards the screen, yearning. Before he can think better of it, he types: Who are you?
You’re so curious, UC replies. Very well, then. Come and meet me.
* * *
The stock room is warm and dark. Yunho uses the light from his phone’s screen to navigate between the piled boxes of photocopier paper and acetates. Someone should really tidy up in here; it’s a complete mess. He treads on something and hears the crack of plastic casing. A pen, maybe. Just as soon as he’s finished his tryst with UC, he’s going to ask Changmin to get someone to sort this place out.
Yunho reaches the back of the room and checks UC’s emailed orders one more time: Go to the stock room at exactly 3.34pm. Take your phone with you. Don’t put the light on. Go to the back and face the wall. Put your hands behind your head and clasp your fingers together. Don’t turn around when I come in. Don’t try to touch me. Don’t talk. Stay as quiet as you can. If you disobey any of my instructions, I will leave immediately.
Of course he should’ve known this wasn’t going to be easy. He hadn’t expected that UC would invite him for a drink or to dinner or anything as simple as that, but he’d thought there would be more than this furtive creeping about amongst the stationery. Although he has to admit that it feels kind of subversive, getting turned on by a stranger in his own stock room.
He really hopes UC isn’t Mr Cheon the janitor. Or Mrs Kang.
The glow from his phone screen fades and he shoves it into his pocket. The darkness seems absolute now. He can’t see anything, not even the bare blocks of the wall in front of him. Distantly he can hear the whirr-clonk of the air con system in the main office. When he shifts position, his foot nudges against a box, which pushes into another box and starts a small landslide of what sounds like plastic file covers.
Yunho stands still and locks his hands behind his head as commanded. The air con clonks some more. He breathes in the smell of paper and cardboard. The minutes stretch out. He tries to calculate how long he’s been in here by counting the intervals between the noises from the air con. Maybe it’s five minutes. Perhaps closer to ten. It’s hard to tell, and he experiences a weird sort of disorientation, as if time is looping over and over.
Now he can smell different things. Not just paper but also the photocopier toner, a thin, slightly heady odour. And highlighter pens-he recognises that scent. There’s probably Tippex and glue sticks, too. If he stands here long enough, he might just get high on stationery products. The thought makes him quiver with a tic of nervous laughter, and he brings his elbows forward so his forearms press against the sides of his head, shutting out sound for a moment, and he takes a deep breath.
He can smell himself, cologne and skin and the slightest hint of sweat. With all these scents surrounding him, there’ll be no way he’ll be able to identify UC from smell alone. Yunho was kind of hoping that UC would wear some really obvious fragrance so he could run around the office later on and track him down, but he doubts UC would be that careless.
He relaxes back into position. Closes his eyes against the darkness and focuses on his breathing. The air con rumbles. On. Off. On. It’s soothing. Who knew the stationery cupboard could be such a relaxing place? He’ll have to come here more often.
Yunho starts to sink into himself.
The door clicks open, snapping him out of the drift of his thoughts. He jerks his head up, keeps his gaze fixed ahead. There’s a faint stripe of light against the back wall, and then the door closes and everything’s dark again.
Silence. It lasts for a long time. Seventy-eight seconds. Yunho counts every one. He fights the urge to break position and turn around and reach out. He swallows the desire to say something. Sensation crawls all over him. He’s shaking. Oh God, UC hasn’t even touched him yet and he’s falling apart.
Footsteps, an eddy of air. UC kicks a box out of the way and presses up close behind him. Yunho draws in a breath. UC is definitely not Mrs Kang. Or any other woman. Oh yes, definitely a man. A tall man, too, which rules out Donghae one hundred percent but still leaves a few other possibilities-including Changmin. Fuck yeah, please be Changmin and please be strict. Yunho pushes back against UC’s crotch and shimmies a little, wanting to feel all of that lovely long, hard length against him.
UC makes a little huffing sound. Gleeful, Yunho wriggles again. This time UC steps back, grabs at his hip, and digs the ball of his thumb into the long muscle at the top of Yunho’s ass. God, it fucking hurts. He’s all tense there, and UC grinds his thumb deeper. Pain spears through Yunho and makes him arch forwards to escape the pressure.
Stupidly, it also makes him hard. His erection is straining against his jeans and it’s uncomfortable. He can’t move his hands from behind his head, so he can’t adjust his cock. Yunho doesn’t like UC anymore. Maybe if he can get closer to the wall he can try to rub against it. Or maybe he’ll fall over a box and sprain his dick, and wouldn’t that be the most embarrassing workplace accident ever.
UC puts both hands on Yunho’s hips, thumbs going underneath the hem of the t-shirt. He strokes Yunho’s waist, then slips his hands beneath the front of the t-shirt and strokes across Yunho’s belly. Yunho sucks in, then lets out his breath in a startled gasp when UC pinches him. So much for vanity.
UC’s hands move, stroking, exploring. Yunho tries to keep still, but the caresses are very distracting. He straightens his spine and thrusts his chest out, hoping that UC will take the hint. The sudden movement sways him back against UC, and for a moment he feels UC’s hair brush against his clasped hands. He freezes, heart pounding and dread trickling through him. He’s disobeyed an instruction. He touched UC. He wants to protest-it was an accident!-but already he can feel UC moving away. No. No no no. Yunho shakes his head, makes a tiny sound, but doesn’t speak. No point in compounding his error.
UC has retreated, but he hasn’t left the room. Yunho waits, his breathing erratic and his pulse bouncing and thudding in his ears. He can barely hear the clonk of the air con now; he’s so focused on being inside his own skin, so aware of UC standing just behind him.
Please, Yunho thinks. Don’t go. Please touch me again.
And then UC is back with him, arms curling around Yunho’s waist, and they stand like that for a moment in a strange sort of embrace, and Yunho tries really, really hard not to move at all for fear of ruining it.
UC’s hands slide upwards. The t-shirt stirs over Yunho’s body. His skin tightens at the touch. Suddenly he’s ticklish, and a burst of hilarity threatens. He forces it back, tries to slow his breathing. It’s too fast, and his heartbeat has accelerated, too, and it feels too dark in here, too warm. He teeters on the edge of a very delicate sense of panic, torn between calling a halt to this encounter and letting it continue. Common sense tells him to stop as reality starts to intrude, and then UC splays his hands across Yunho’s chest and gives him a squeeze.
One more minute, Yunho decides. He’ll let this go on for one more minute.
UC pinches Yunho’s nipples through the t-shirt. Does it hard.
Lust arcs through him like an electric shock. He jolts back against UC, unable to stop the involuntary moan escaping his lips. He can almost feel UC smiling, and then UC does it again. Pinch. Twist. Pull.
Yunho’s knees buckle. He’s trying so hard to keep silent but it’s impossible to stop the soft, low noise rolling out of him, an endless, helpless moan.
UC rubs up against him, humping his ass as he really goes to town on Yunho’s nipples. The pain is glorious, a sharp, fiery ache that sends streaks of pleasure straight to his dick. Oh yeah, he’d enjoy this so much more if he could touch himself. If only he could change the angle of his cock-but if he did that he’d go off like a rocket. Maybe it’s better to draw this out, make it last, even if he feels like he’s burning up. When he gasps for breath, he can smell himself, hot and aroused. He hopes UC likes him like this, because he’s feeling mighty fucking fine right now.
And then UC makes a noise. It’s muffled almost right away, but it sounds like a groan. UC claws his hands into Yunho’s chest, fingernails digging through the t-shirt, and then he gropes and squeezes and plucks at his nipples again, sharp and sudden, and at the same time UC kisses the back of his neck, and it’s so tender, so soft, that the contrast with what UC is doing to his tits drives Yunho over the edge.
“God,” Yunho breathes, desperate to vocalise some of what he’s feeling. “Yes. Yes,” and he comes in his jeans. Oh fuck, he’s just creamed himself and-and it’s warm and wet and oh God, he did not just do that, oh Christ, this is embarrassing.
UC licks from his nape up into his hairline. Yunho quivers and quivers. How much spunk does he have inside him anyway? It’s like a flood and he can’t stop it, and he’s glad it’s dark in here because his face is burning with shame.
Then UC’s touch glides down, and one hand closes over his half hard dick, and UC rubs his palm and fingers all over Yunho’s wet jeans. It feels dirty and wrong and so exciting, and then UC lets go of him and takes his hands away completely, and in the sudden silence Yunho hears a deep inhalation, and ohhh fuck, is UC actually sniffing Yunho’s come on his hand? And-and then there’s a tiny wet noise, and Yunho can’t breathe, because surely UC is licking his damp hand, and that is just perverse.
Another moment of silence, and then UC moves away. Yunho hears his footsteps, then the squeak of the door handle. It opens, lets in a sliver of light, and then closes again.
Yunho exhales shakily, his legs still trembling, his skin prickling with sweat. He shuffles to one side of the room and leans against a shelf, pressing his overheated face to the cool metal. He stays there until his phone beeps.
You can come out now, says the message. I am very pleased with you.
Yunho staggers towards the door, almost tripping over a box. He pauses, combs a hand through his hair to flatten where it must be sticking out at the back, and then opens the door of the stock room and peers out. It seems like a million miles between here and the safety of his office. He has to walk past all his employees with aching nipples and a lapful of come.
Thank God he wore black jeans today.
* * *
>> Part 2 >>
Fandom: TVXQ
Pairing: Changmin/Yunho
Rating: NC17
Summary: A good secretary will anticipate his boss’s every need.
Notes: AU. For the prompt ‘boss/secretary’ in diagon’s Twelve Months of HoMin challenge.
Executive Toy
Yunho wakes up and comes face to face with Happy the Rhinopillar. The plushie’s big beaming smile confuses him for a moment, and then he sits up with a start. Jetlag swings around his head, the dizziness stretching and quivering. Sunlight is pouring through the panoramic windows of his office, but his body clock is telling him it’s the middle of the night. He doesn’t even know what time zone his head is in. East coast USA, perhaps, though he’d stopped in Helsinki and again in Munich, and then he was in New Delhi, and finally he’d spent a couple of hours in Shanghai.
He rubs both hands over his face. Ugh, he’s drooled on Happy again. Gross. He really needs to stop using the Rhinopillar as a pillow. There’s a perfectly good couch on the other side of his office, with a perfectly good nest of cushions and even a nice fluffy blanket if he needs to take a nap, but somehow Yunho always finds himself asleep at his desk.
Not that he makes a habit of falling asleep at his desk, but still. He yawns, cuddles Happy to his chest, tucks his chin on the Rhinopillar’s head, and blinks at the line-up of pocket toy prototypes he’d brought back with him from the factory in China. The Rhinopillar, Octopig, Giraffopede, Squireel and Meerdeer are the most popular virtual pets from Mash-Up Monsters, the educational social networking MMOG site he’d created a few years ago and which now has seventy million registered users worldwide and a market value of two hundred million US dollars.
He picks up the Giraffopede and activates it. It wobbles across the desk towards its friends and chirrups at them. If all the toys were switched on they’d have a conversation, and he’d be able to talk to them, too. Mash-Up Monsters have their own language, one he’d developed with the help of child psychologists, and when the toys go into full production, they’ll be able to cross-reference Mash-Up language with their owners’ native tongues and provide a fully interactive learning experience.
Even his exhaustion can’t dent his enthusiasm. Yunho activates all the toys and sets them chattering to one another. The Meerdeer seems a little shy, so he places it next to the Squireel. The Giraffopede takes a walk off the side of his desk and flails around on the carpet. Yunho reaches down and retrieves it, puts it beside the Octopig. The little Rhinopillar has wandered over to Happy and is bumping against it as if it recognises its big brother.
Yunho smiles at the toys. He’s so proud he could burst. All the long hours, the endless travelling, the jetlag, the lack of a social life and the constant nagging fear that he’s not quite good enough-it all fades when he looks at his cute little Mash-Up Monsters making friends with one another. He can’t wait to launch these toys and bring delight to tens of thousands of children.
He yawns again and turns off the prototypes, arranges them around Happy at the head of his desk, and then drags his laptop towards him. A glance at the clock in the bottom right hand corner of the screen tells him he’s been asleep for about forty minutes. Yunho stretches in his chair, moaning a little at how good it feels, then turns his attention to work.
His secretary has sent the minutes of the first three meetings they attended today. Yunho can’t even remember what happened in those meetings. Thank God he has Changmin, who is not only shit-hot at taking notes and typing them up and arranging them all logically, but also just shit-hot in general. Another email is from Donghae, his closest friend and the head of the software programming team that does all of the clever stuff to turn Yunho’s ideas into reality. The rest are from clients and investors and potential investors.
Except for one. There’s an email amongst all the others that has no subject line, which is unusual in itself. It doesn’t have the sender’s name, either. Weird. Maybe it’s spam. Yunho quite likes spam, as long as it’s not that guy in Nigeria again. At least five games on the Mash-Up Monsters site were inspired by spam, so he clicks on the email.
You left your watch in conference room 3B. You shouldn’t be so careless.
Yunho frowns at the message. No signature. It’s not from a company email address, either. He glances at his wrist, which is indeed minus his watch. It’s a bad habit he has, taking his watch off whenever he goes into a meeting. Donghae always says he doesn’t need to time the proceedings because Changmin does that. Ever since Changmin started working here, their meetings have never run over and have always been on point. But that’s not why Yunho likes to take his watch off. He’s not timing things; he’s trying to forget time, to signify that the creative process and a workable solution is more important than the length of time it takes to achieve those goals. Or so he likes to think, anyway.
He looks at the email. Thank you, he types in reply, then pauses, staring at the second sentence. It digs at him a little, so he adds, I’m not careless. Just forgetful. And I have jetlag. That sounds rude and abrupt. He thinks some more and writes: But thank you all the same.
Wondering why the mystery writer couldn’t just send a message through the company email, Yunho gets up to fetch his watch. He opens his office door and pauses for a moment, looking around the large, well lit open-plan space. The main office area is divided into sections. Over to the left is where the games testing takes place. Donghae hired a Chinese-Canadian exchange student as a paid intern, and Henry sends dozens of excitable emails every day detailing his opinions of the games and site design.
The office next to Yunho’s is supposed to be for Donghae, but he prefers to occupy a cubicle on one side of the open-plan area so he can keep an eye on the software team. Yunho thinks this actually means ‘so he can hit on attractive staff members who walk past’.
Speaking of attractive staff members... Yunho glances at Changmin, who’s talking on the phone as he searches through the contents of a box file. Yunho had hired him as the antithesis of his previous secretary, who had disapproved of anything computer-related and was fond of telling everyone that online games stunted a child’s emotional growth and that concepts such as the Rhinopillar were dangerous because susceptible children might believe that such animals really existed. When Yunho proposed a spin-off series of games and toys based on Burgess Shale creatures, the secretary quit citing religious differences. Until then, Yunho had had no idea that his secretary was such a devout Creationist.
Changmin is completely different. He’s beautiful, for a start, and buttoned-up and starchy with a mind like a steel trap and a mouth like sin and cheekbones that could bend light. He’s terrifyingly organised and always impeccably turned out. Once Yunho had gently reminded him that the company’s dress code was casual, and Changmin had fixed his big dark eyes on Yunho and nodded and came into work the next day with his collar unbuttoned and a cravat around his neck.
Yunho hasn’t admitted this to anyone, but he created the Meerdeer with Changmin in mind. Always watchful and cautious, swaying about the office on coltish legs that go on forever, yet capable of ferocity when crossed. The number of times Yunho has overheard Changmin on the telephone berating some poor sod for a late delivery of staples and paperclips, or haranguing deficient airline staff or churlish hotel receptionists.
Changmin is very, very good at his job. Which is a shame, because if he was less good at his job, Yunho would have asked him out months ago.
Conference room 3B is up on the mezzanine floor. Yunho finds his watch exactly where he’d left it. He makes his way back across the office, yawning and slow-witted, and hesitates beside the drinks machine. Maybe caffeine will wake him up, or give him enough energy to get through the next few hours. He presses a couple of buttons and leans against the machine while it chugs and whirrs. Next thing he knows, Donghae is shaking him by the shoulder and holding up a waxed paper cup of a random hot beverage.
“Dude, you fell asleep waiting for the machine to deliver your latte.” Donghae peers at him, shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have come in today. We can cope without you for five minutes, you know.”
Yunho takes the latte and manages a tired smile. “I know. But...”
“Workaholics. Will never understand them.” Donghae slings an arm around him as they saunter across the office. “Hey, while you’re half asleep and jetlagged, I’m totally going to take advantage and get you to sign off on my expense account.”
“Nice try, bro.” Yunho shrugs out of Donghae’s grasp, slopping coffee down the side of the cup. “All expenses need to go across Secretary Shim’s desk before I sign them.”
“Dude.” Donghae pretends to look aggrieved. “Changmin gets all hardcore when I give him my expenses. I have to justify every little thing. It’s like being interrogated or something. It’s bad for my rep, man.”
Yunho tries not to laugh. “Well, there was that time when you tried to claim an escort’s services on company expenses...”
“Bro, not fair!” Donghae makes a woeful face. “That was just a joke.”
“Sure it was.” Yunho pauses by Donghae’s cubicle and holds out his hand. “C’mon, give me your expenses.”
“Aww, this is why I love you, man. You’re the best boss.” Donghae pulls several stapled sheets from a drawer. “Thanks, dude.”
“No problem.” Yunho takes the paperwork and drops it onto Changmin’s desk. “Secretary Shim, here are Lee Donghae’s expenses. Please go over them carefully.”
“I totally hate you, Jung Yunho!” Donghae shouts across the office.
Changmin purses his perfect, gorgeous lips and flicks through the expense sheets. He swivels in his chair and reaches for another box file, places it on the adjacent section of his L-shaped desk and riffles through the papers. His position has made his suit jacket ride up at the back as he leans forward, so Yunho casually sprawls across the desk and reads the weekly planner upside down, using this as cover for a bit of surreptitious staring at Changmin’s ass.
“Are you checking for anything specific, sir?”
“Uh,” Yunho says, taking a sip of his latte as Changmin straightens and turns in his seat, “I was just wondering when the video conference with the CCTV-14 people was taking place.”
“Next Wednesday at ten o’clock.” Changmin doesn’t even have to look at the planner. “I sent you an email about it.”
“You know I’m bad with emails.” Yunho gives him an apologetic smile. “You have to tell me.”
“I’ll put a Post-It on the Rhinopillar to remind you.”
Yunho wrinkles his nose. “You can’t do that. Happy won’t like it.”
Changmin gives him a droll look and picks up the phone. “Yes, sir. I’ll remind you verbally, then. Now if you’ll excuse me...”
Thus dismissed, Yunho goes back into his office and finishes his coffee. He waggles the laptop mouse and his screensaver vanishes, revealing fifteen new emails, mostly on the company mailing list. Changmin is always telling him to unsubscribe from the list because it’s not his place to worry about low toner in the photocopier or a broken lock in the female staff toilets. Yunho keeps himself on it, though, because he likes knowing what’s going on. Sometimes there’s a flurry of gossip or a conversation that should have been private but accidentally got cross-posted. Also he likes reading the lunch order when it goes around, and occasionally he’ll ask for something, and then Changmin will come in looking cross and say something like “Sir, you don’t need to place your lunch order through the general list, you can just call me and I will fetch it for you”, and Yunho always responds that Changmin is so busy and he didn’t want to disturb him, and Changmin looks irritated-amused and says, “But sir, this is my job,” or, more recently, “You’re impossible, sir.”
Yunho flicks through the emails, reads an exchange between Henry and Donghae that seems to be rather cryptic-Dude i did it LOLOL, Henry wrote, to which Donghae had replied with LMAO dude-but that could refer to anything. Sandwiched in between a discussion about the height and width of the cheese plant in reception and whether it was breaching health and safety regulations was a reply to the email he’d sent earlier.
I worded that all wrong. You’re careless with yourself.
This gives Yunho pause. He types back: What do you mean?
Whoever is sending these emails is still logged on, because the reply comes back straight away: You need someone to look after you. Someone to take care of you.
A little frisson creeps up Yunho’s spine. He clicks on the email header to check the sender ID. It’s an account on a generic web-based email provider and the name is a jumble of letters and numbers. Nothing meaningful, nothing that could give him a clue as to the identity of his correspondent. It could be anyone. He thinks it’s someone having a laugh, but maybe it isn’t. It could be Mrs Kang in Accounts, who always fusses over him and brings him homemade pickles and kimchi, but maybe it isn’t. It could be Mr Cheon the janitor, but maybe it isn’t.
He responds: I don’t need anyone.
You do, says the reply. You run yourself ragged looking out for everyone else but you never take care of yourself. You need to relax. You need a firm hand to guide you.
Yunho shifts in his seat and wonders if it’s wrong to get turned on by the words ‘firm hand’. This whole thing is so silly. It’s probably Donghae messing around as revenge for the thing with the expense sheets. Yunho is so sure it’s a prank that he plays along with it: Sounds like you want to punish me.
Computer silence for a while, and then: It wouldn’t be punishment.
What, then? Yunho giggles as he types. You’d make sure I enjoyed it?
You’re misunderstanding me.
Yunho feels bad. Emails don’t have expressional tones, but this one looks disappointed all the same. He pushes the mouse pointer around the screen for a bit and then responds: I’m sorry. I thought you were just playing a stupid game.
Nothing for a long time. Yunho waits for a few minutes then attends to a couple of other emails on work-related issues, but his mind keeps clicking back to the exchange with his unknown correspondent. It’s interfering with his focus. Eventually he re-reads the whole conversation again, and as he reaches the end, a new message pops up.
Would you like to play a game with me?
He hesitates for a moment. Curiosity wins out over caution. He replies: Yes.
Good boy.
A kick of lust floors him. Just seeing those two words in black and white wakes something eager and impulsive inside him. Hands shaking just slightly, he types: What do I have to do?
The reply is immediate. Come to work tomorrow without underwear. I want you to wear the cream trousers. The tight ones.
Yunho lets out his breath. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, and he’s a little disappointed. Regardless, he’s agreed to it; he may as well see it through. He writes: Okay, I’ll do it.
A pause, and then the response: I know you will.
* * *
Yunho spends the whole of the next day utterly self-conscious about his lack of underwear. The cream-coloured trousers seem tighter than usual, and he’s sure people are staring at him. In fact, he’s positive that the receptionists both checked out his junk when he entered the foyer and said hello this morning. And it’s not just the receptionists, either. Henry had given him a weird look in the washroom, and Changmin had seemed vaguely startled, his gaze dipping down for a split-second when Yunho had stopped in front of his desk to ask about a report on financial projections. Only Donghae didn’t seem to notice, but then Donghae often spoke about the benefits of going commando so maybe he assumed that every guy walked around without underwear.
There’s no email from his unknown correspondent until lunchtime.
You did as I asked, Unknown Correspondent writes. I’m delighted.
Relief washes over him. Yunho hadn’t realised he was so tense about this. He’s not sure why the opinion of some faceless pervert is suddenly so important to him, but it is. Maybe it’s because Yunho always likes to do his best in everything. He likes making people happy. Even if they are faceless perverts. It’s uncomfortable, he types.
Of course it is, comes the reply. You’re on display for me. Everyone is talking about it. They’re all fantasising about spreading you across your desk and freeing your gorgeous huge cock from those trousers. They’re all wondering why you did it, but I’m the only one who knows.
Arousal squirms around inside Yunho. Ugh, he’s so tragic, getting hot over something so ridiculous, but he can’t help himself. He types: I did it for you.
Yes, you did. You’re such a good boy.
The praise goes to his head. Yunho pulls Happy towards him and buries his face against the plushie’s soft body, quivering.
* * *
The next few days bring a flurry of commands from Unknown Correspondent, or UC as Yunho has started to think of him. He supposes UC could be a woman. Mash-Up Monsters has plenty of female computer techs and designers who could’ve set this up, but Yunho hopes it’s a man who’s doing this to him. If UC is a woman, then she seems to like the idea of him getting it on with another guy, because for a while UC’s orders involve him touching several of his male employees, starting with Donghae. It's never anything inappropriate; just the kind of casual, friendly gestures he usually makes-a hand clasp, a fist bump, a playful push-and yet now it's imbued with a meaning it never had before.
UC never asks him to touch any of the female staff, which is a relief in many ways, but it also makes him think that UC knows his preferences. And he’s not exactly out and proud at work, which narrows the field.
Unless he’s really obvious. Which could be the case. He often thinks he’s really subtle and then it turns out that he’s not at all.
The cruellest command was the one that UC delivered yesterday morning: I forbid you to touch yourself. No jerking off without my permission. This is especially bad as Yunho had started getting himself off every night fantasising about what UC might order him to do next. His daydreams ran the gamut from attending a board meeting and being forced to service all the executives on his knees, to imagining himself stripped naked and shoved up against his office window while someone fucked into him from behind, or-his favourite-he delivers a motivational speech all wrong and Changmin makes him bend over the desk and spanks him and tells him he’s a disgrace and needs a lot of correction.
The latter scenario made him come really, really hard.
Yunho doesn’t know if he can survive the rest of the week without jerking off, especially when he keeps thinking about his Strict Changmin fantasy. So it’s incredibly ironic that when he looks at his work emails on his phone while he eats breakfast, the one from UC says: Stroke Secretary Shim’s leg when you’re in the lift together.
Yunho gets a little fluttery at the thought of it and then thinks this’ll be the easiest order he’s followed, because usually he arrives at the office building at the same time as Changmin and they ride the lift together with at least five other people, and when the lift is that full it’ll be no trouble at all to brush up against someone and give them a completely accidental little caress.
Yeah, easy. Piece of cake.
Except it’s not, because when he gets downtown there’s a delivery van in his parking space and he has to drive around for five minutes until the interloper leaves, and when he sprints into the foyer it’s just in time to see the lift doors close. He has to stand by the gigantic cheese plant and make polite chat with the receptionists, who always seem to stare at his crotch these days and never at his face, until the lift comes back down.
When he reaches his office, Yunho picks up Happy and squishes the Rhinopillar hard as he tries to think of an excuse to get Changmin back into the lift. They have two meetings scheduled for today, according to the note Changmin left on his desk. Both are on this floor. No lift necessary. Short of setting off the fire alarm, which will render the lift out of bounds anyway, Yunho can’t think how best to carry out UC’s order.
He waits until midday, calls Changmin, and asks him to go out and pick up some sushi for lunch. Changmin wants to know exactly what type of sushi he should buy and if Yunho has any preference as to which shop it comes from. Yunho almost suggests they go and buy it together, but that would look too suspicious, so he just says “Buy anything, I’m sure I’ll like it”, and cuts the call.
After a few minutes, he opens his office door and peers out. Changmin isn’t at his desk. Success! Yunho heads towards the lift, but Henry calls out, wanting to talk to him about adding extra levels onto the Hippeep game, and then Mrs Kang from Accounts starts telling him about her cousin’s sister-in-law’s five-year-old who loves Mash-Up Monsters, and Yunho begins to fret that Changmin will arrive back with the sushi and he’ll have missed his chance again.
Finally he gets into the lift and makes it down to the foyer without being collared by anyone else. The receptionists stare at the front of his trousers again so he turns his back and gives them the more unprepossessing view of his ass while he looks out of the window in search of Changmin and his lunch.
He waits ten minutes. This, added to the time he lost when Henry and Mrs Kang were talking to him, means that Changmin has been away from his desk for almost half an hour. Yunho wonders if there’s a queue at the shop. Or maybe Changmin is actually rolling the sushi himself. And catching the fish, too.
Or-or maybe there’s been an accident. Yunho doesn’t like this thought. He paces around the foyer and wonders if he should call Changmin. Then he remembers he left his phone upstairs underneath Happy. Just as he’s deciding to ask the receptionists to call instead, Changmin pushes through the revolving doors and walks in. He’s carrying a paper bag with the logo of an upmarket sushi restaurant printed on the side, and he looks puzzled when Yunho hurries towards him.
“Sir, did something happen? Is there an emergency?”
“No. Nothing like that. I was...” Yunho casts around for some way to explain why he’s obviously hanging about in the foyer. “I was waiting. For my lunch. Because I’m hungry. You were gone for hours.”
Changmin frowns and checks his watch. “Thirty-six minutes, sir. I do apologise. I wanted the sushi to be freshly prepared for you.”
“Thanks.” Yunho sidles over to the lift and presses the call button.
Changmin gives him an odd look and murmurs “Thank you, sir” when Yunho stands aside and lets him enter the lift first. It’s just the two of them in there, and the lift seems huge and echoing. There’s no way to be subtle about this. Yunho leans close and looks into the bag. “What did you get?”
“Sayori, sesame tofu, sea cucumber, sakura rice mochi...” Changmin recites, and hands him the bag.
Yunho is so focused on his allotted task that he’s a bit slow with everything else. The bag slips through his fingers and drops onto the floor. They both go to retrieve it. Yunho is faster and finds himself crouched down with his head level with Changmin’s thighs. He blinks. This is it. Now’s his chance. He grabs the bag with one hand and quickly, almost imperceptibly, runs his free hand up Changmin’s calf to the back of his knee.
Changmin freezes. Draws in an audible breath.
Aw, crap. Yunho freezes too, scrumpling the top of the paper bag.
“Sir.” Changmin’s voice is low and husky, and Yunho glances up at him, hoping he doesn’t look too guilty.
Changmin is staring down at him, cool and composed and so fucking tall. “I don’t think that’s very appropriate, sir, do you?”
Yunho almost whimpers. He should not get turned on so easily. It’s because he’s not allowed to jerk off, that’s what’s done it. And it’s the way Changmin says sir. Oh shit, it’s hot, ridiculously so, and now he’s hard, goddamn he’s so hard he could drive nails through concrete just because Changmin said one little word and looked down at him. And then Yunho goes hot and cold with realisation, because it’s not so much the ‘sir’ that did it; it’s the fact that he’s on his knees and Changmin is standing up. Standing above him. Over him.
Oh God, this is bad. In a good way.
“Sir,” Changmin says. He sounds concerned. “Sir, are you all right?”
“Um?” Yunho realises he’s still on his knees. This will look so weird if the lift stops right now.
The lift stops and the doors roll open.
Yunho bolts upright. This time, the sushi falls out of the bag and splats onto the floor. He stares at it. “Crap. Oh... crap.”
Changmin shakes his head, sighs, and walks out into the office, leaving Yunho scrabbling after the mess of his lunch.
* * *
Next day, Yunho wakes up with a raging hard-on and the lingering memory of a dream in which he’d gone into the office naked and Changmin had stroked him with feathers and rabbit fur while reading out the findings of the latest focus group on the Mash-Up Monsters cartoon series. Of course, now he’s awake he can’t remember what the focus group thought of the show.
He definitely didn’t come in his dream, he knows that much. He wants to come now, wants to jack off hard and fast, but he’d promised UC that he wouldn’t touch himself and he tries very hard to keep his promises.
Very and hard being the operative words.
He rolls over and traps the duvet between his legs. Humps it a little. Wonders if it’s cheating if he gets himself off rubbing against something rather than doing it by hand. Technically he’s not touching himself. Yeah, that’s his excuse and-
His phone beeps with an email alert. Yunho groans and squirms across the bed to look at the message. It’s from UC: You’ve been such a good boy I think you deserve a reward today.
Guilt pokes at Yunho as he thinks of how close he came to disobedience. He sits up and types hopefully: Can I touch myself again?
No, UC replies. I’m going to touch you instead.
Oh God. Yunho has to throw the duvet off because even the lightest touch of anything over his erection right now is going to kill him. Yes please he writes, and has to backspace a few times because he keeps hitting the keys in the wrong order.
Wear the white t-shirt with the deep v-neck, UC orders. The one you wore to the Wiwaxia launch party.
Yunho stares at the screen. The launch party was five months ago. He hasn’t worn that t-shirt since. Not to work, anyway. I don’t like wearing it he types, then deletes the sentence. He hasn’t had time to go to the gym for a couple of months now and he knows he’s put on a bit of weight, and when he gains weight it goes straight to his chest and things get kind of jiggly up there.
But if he refuses to wear the t-shirt, then UC won’t touch him, and he thinks he needs that more than he’s worried about his body issues.
Okay, he writes. I’ll find it.
You’re my good boy, UC responds, and Yunho feels incredible.
He goes to the office in black jeans and with the requested t-shirt worn beneath a blazer. Yep, he’s definitely gained weight. The t-shirt is a lot tighter than it was five months ago, and the neckline slashes down to the middle of his chest, so it feels like there’s a lot of flesh on display.
At least the receptionists don’t stare at his junk this morning.
It takes half an hour before UC sends him an email: Stop hiding. Take the jacket off and come out here so I can see you.
Yunho shrugs out of his blazer immediately and hangs it over the back of his chair. He likes that he doesn’t need to think in this situation. With UC, the decisions are made for him. Small, silly decisions, maybe; but nonetheless, it seems to make things easier. It’s not like his job is particularly stressful-not like being a surgeon or a stock market trader-but since this... thing with UC began, he’s felt a lot lighter in his mind. Less stagnant.
He finishes reading the rest of his work emails and then goes out into the main office, wandering around casually so UC can see that he’s obeyed his instructions. Henry flags him down and they talk about the new Giraffopede mathematics mini-game, and then Yunho calls Donghae over to discuss a couple of issues. Donghae swaggers across, takes one look at Yunho’s t-shirt and says, “Dude, lay off the pies, yeah?”
Yunho feels his face burn. He can’t think of a snappy retort quick enough so he gives Donghae a playful shove instead and turns the conversation to the mini-game. While Henry demonstrates the problem and Donghae watches, Yunho steps back and crosses his arms over his chest. He wishes he was still wearing the blazer.
“Think I know how to make that more stable.” Donghae jots down notes on one of the beer mats Henry uses in place of Post-Its. He straightens, looks at the way Yunho’s standing, and grins. “Bro, don’t fold your arms like that. It’s giving you cleavage.”
“You’re such a dick.” Yunho aims a pretend kick at Donghae’s ass. “Fix my Giraffopedes before I sack you for gross incompetence.”
“Dude, I own a quarter of the company!”
“You’re still a dick.” Yunho hustles Donghae back to his workspace then returns to his office, pausing by Changmin’s desk on the way. “Any post?”
“Sir.” Changmin’s gaze flickers down to Yunho’s chest for just a moment before he picks up a couple of letters and hands them over. “These are the only things of any importance that need a reply in the next few days. I would appreciate, however, if you could give them your attention sooner rather than later.”
“I’ll look at them now. Thank you.” Yunho takes the letters into his office, scanning each one and reading the annotations Changmin has made in the margins. He sorts them into order of reply and props them against Happy’s body, then goes to check his email.
There’s a message from UC waiting for him, time-stamped seventeen minutes ago: God, you’re magnificent.
It’s such an opposite reaction to the one he got from Donghae that it almost hurts. Yunho curls a hand into the neckline of his t-shirt and types with one finger: At least I know you’re not Donghae.
The message comes back: How do you know that?
Because, Yunho replies, if you wanted to take care of me the way you say you do, you wouldn’t laugh at me in one moment and then say nice things the next.
A pause, and then: You’re right. I wouldn’t.
Yunho types: So you’re not Donghae? He thinks about it, then deletes the question mark. He wants to sound certain.
Does it matter who I am?
The question makes Yunho pause. He’s not going to lie, he’ll be disappointed if UC turns out to be Mr Cheon the janitor or Mrs Kang in Accounts after all, but at the same time, he likes this, likes how it makes him feel. It’s weird, but he feels the way UC wants him to feel-cared for. He hadn’t expected that, but now he’s got it, he doesn’t want to lose it. If the price of that is UC’s continued anonymity, then right now Yunho is willing to go along with it.
It might be a different matter in the long term, though.
Drawing in a breath, Yunho writes: It doesn’t matter who you are. I like what you do for me.
UC writes: But do you understand why I’m doing it?
Yunho thinks about this for several moments before replying: At first I thought it was some sort of game. Even when I kind of knew you were being serious about it, it was still a game. The no underwear thing, and when you asked me to touch Donghae etc-I mean, I felt silly. It was sexy, too, but mainly it just felt like a game that I could walk away from whenever I wanted.
UC responds directly: What made you change your mind?
Yunho exhales, rubs at the back of his neck. He looks at Happy for moral support. The Rhinopillar grins back at him. Yesterday, Yunho types, and then stares at the cursor for a while, trying to organise his thoughts. When you asked me to touch Changmin and I was late, and I had to make up an excuse to send him out of the office just so I could get into the lift with him and do what you asked. That was difficult. I almost didn’t go through with it. And then I realised I *wanted* to go through with it. Not just because you’d told me to, but because I wanted to do it. And even though I dropped my lunch and he probably thinks I’m creepy and moronic now, I felt good afterwards. As good as I did when I first launched the company. Or when I first held the plushie Rhinopillar. Does that sound weird?
He can’t do anything at all while he waits for the reply. His mouth is dry. He doesn’t usually open himself up like this, and he doesn’t even know why he’s doing it now. It must be because UC is faceless and doesn’t seem to judge him. UC asks things of him but doesn’t seem to want anything from him. Not anything material, anyway. He just... suggests, and Yunho follows those suggestions and feels good when he completes a task. In an odd sort of way, Yunho thinks he trusts UC.
It’s not weird, UC writes. You always think about pleasing other people. You try to make them happy. You always look outwards. You’re always thinking about the future and how you could do better. You need to learn how to look at yourself today, right here and now, and you need to know that someone cares about you. That’s why we’re doing this. You need to know that I will look after you.
The message makes Yunho feel shaky and light-headed. He leans towards the screen, yearning. Before he can think better of it, he types: Who are you?
You’re so curious, UC replies. Very well, then. Come and meet me.
* * *
The stock room is warm and dark. Yunho uses the light from his phone’s screen to navigate between the piled boxes of photocopier paper and acetates. Someone should really tidy up in here; it’s a complete mess. He treads on something and hears the crack of plastic casing. A pen, maybe. Just as soon as he’s finished his tryst with UC, he’s going to ask Changmin to get someone to sort this place out.
Yunho reaches the back of the room and checks UC’s emailed orders one more time: Go to the stock room at exactly 3.34pm. Take your phone with you. Don’t put the light on. Go to the back and face the wall. Put your hands behind your head and clasp your fingers together. Don’t turn around when I come in. Don’t try to touch me. Don’t talk. Stay as quiet as you can. If you disobey any of my instructions, I will leave immediately.
Of course he should’ve known this wasn’t going to be easy. He hadn’t expected that UC would invite him for a drink or to dinner or anything as simple as that, but he’d thought there would be more than this furtive creeping about amongst the stationery. Although he has to admit that it feels kind of subversive, getting turned on by a stranger in his own stock room.
He really hopes UC isn’t Mr Cheon the janitor. Or Mrs Kang.
The glow from his phone screen fades and he shoves it into his pocket. The darkness seems absolute now. He can’t see anything, not even the bare blocks of the wall in front of him. Distantly he can hear the whirr-clonk of the air con system in the main office. When he shifts position, his foot nudges against a box, which pushes into another box and starts a small landslide of what sounds like plastic file covers.
Yunho stands still and locks his hands behind his head as commanded. The air con clonks some more. He breathes in the smell of paper and cardboard. The minutes stretch out. He tries to calculate how long he’s been in here by counting the intervals between the noises from the air con. Maybe it’s five minutes. Perhaps closer to ten. It’s hard to tell, and he experiences a weird sort of disorientation, as if time is looping over and over.
Now he can smell different things. Not just paper but also the photocopier toner, a thin, slightly heady odour. And highlighter pens-he recognises that scent. There’s probably Tippex and glue sticks, too. If he stands here long enough, he might just get high on stationery products. The thought makes him quiver with a tic of nervous laughter, and he brings his elbows forward so his forearms press against the sides of his head, shutting out sound for a moment, and he takes a deep breath.
He can smell himself, cologne and skin and the slightest hint of sweat. With all these scents surrounding him, there’ll be no way he’ll be able to identify UC from smell alone. Yunho was kind of hoping that UC would wear some really obvious fragrance so he could run around the office later on and track him down, but he doubts UC would be that careless.
He relaxes back into position. Closes his eyes against the darkness and focuses on his breathing. The air con rumbles. On. Off. On. It’s soothing. Who knew the stationery cupboard could be such a relaxing place? He’ll have to come here more often.
Yunho starts to sink into himself.
The door clicks open, snapping him out of the drift of his thoughts. He jerks his head up, keeps his gaze fixed ahead. There’s a faint stripe of light against the back wall, and then the door closes and everything’s dark again.
Silence. It lasts for a long time. Seventy-eight seconds. Yunho counts every one. He fights the urge to break position and turn around and reach out. He swallows the desire to say something. Sensation crawls all over him. He’s shaking. Oh God, UC hasn’t even touched him yet and he’s falling apart.
Footsteps, an eddy of air. UC kicks a box out of the way and presses up close behind him. Yunho draws in a breath. UC is definitely not Mrs Kang. Or any other woman. Oh yes, definitely a man. A tall man, too, which rules out Donghae one hundred percent but still leaves a few other possibilities-including Changmin. Fuck yeah, please be Changmin and please be strict. Yunho pushes back against UC’s crotch and shimmies a little, wanting to feel all of that lovely long, hard length against him.
UC makes a little huffing sound. Gleeful, Yunho wriggles again. This time UC steps back, grabs at his hip, and digs the ball of his thumb into the long muscle at the top of Yunho’s ass. God, it fucking hurts. He’s all tense there, and UC grinds his thumb deeper. Pain spears through Yunho and makes him arch forwards to escape the pressure.
Stupidly, it also makes him hard. His erection is straining against his jeans and it’s uncomfortable. He can’t move his hands from behind his head, so he can’t adjust his cock. Yunho doesn’t like UC anymore. Maybe if he can get closer to the wall he can try to rub against it. Or maybe he’ll fall over a box and sprain his dick, and wouldn’t that be the most embarrassing workplace accident ever.
UC puts both hands on Yunho’s hips, thumbs going underneath the hem of the t-shirt. He strokes Yunho’s waist, then slips his hands beneath the front of the t-shirt and strokes across Yunho’s belly. Yunho sucks in, then lets out his breath in a startled gasp when UC pinches him. So much for vanity.
UC’s hands move, stroking, exploring. Yunho tries to keep still, but the caresses are very distracting. He straightens his spine and thrusts his chest out, hoping that UC will take the hint. The sudden movement sways him back against UC, and for a moment he feels UC’s hair brush against his clasped hands. He freezes, heart pounding and dread trickling through him. He’s disobeyed an instruction. He touched UC. He wants to protest-it was an accident!-but already he can feel UC moving away. No. No no no. Yunho shakes his head, makes a tiny sound, but doesn’t speak. No point in compounding his error.
UC has retreated, but he hasn’t left the room. Yunho waits, his breathing erratic and his pulse bouncing and thudding in his ears. He can barely hear the clonk of the air con now; he’s so focused on being inside his own skin, so aware of UC standing just behind him.
Please, Yunho thinks. Don’t go. Please touch me again.
And then UC is back with him, arms curling around Yunho’s waist, and they stand like that for a moment in a strange sort of embrace, and Yunho tries really, really hard not to move at all for fear of ruining it.
UC’s hands slide upwards. The t-shirt stirs over Yunho’s body. His skin tightens at the touch. Suddenly he’s ticklish, and a burst of hilarity threatens. He forces it back, tries to slow his breathing. It’s too fast, and his heartbeat has accelerated, too, and it feels too dark in here, too warm. He teeters on the edge of a very delicate sense of panic, torn between calling a halt to this encounter and letting it continue. Common sense tells him to stop as reality starts to intrude, and then UC splays his hands across Yunho’s chest and gives him a squeeze.
One more minute, Yunho decides. He’ll let this go on for one more minute.
UC pinches Yunho’s nipples through the t-shirt. Does it hard.
Lust arcs through him like an electric shock. He jolts back against UC, unable to stop the involuntary moan escaping his lips. He can almost feel UC smiling, and then UC does it again. Pinch. Twist. Pull.
Yunho’s knees buckle. He’s trying so hard to keep silent but it’s impossible to stop the soft, low noise rolling out of him, an endless, helpless moan.
UC rubs up against him, humping his ass as he really goes to town on Yunho’s nipples. The pain is glorious, a sharp, fiery ache that sends streaks of pleasure straight to his dick. Oh yeah, he’d enjoy this so much more if he could touch himself. If only he could change the angle of his cock-but if he did that he’d go off like a rocket. Maybe it’s better to draw this out, make it last, even if he feels like he’s burning up. When he gasps for breath, he can smell himself, hot and aroused. He hopes UC likes him like this, because he’s feeling mighty fucking fine right now.
And then UC makes a noise. It’s muffled almost right away, but it sounds like a groan. UC claws his hands into Yunho’s chest, fingernails digging through the t-shirt, and then he gropes and squeezes and plucks at his nipples again, sharp and sudden, and at the same time UC kisses the back of his neck, and it’s so tender, so soft, that the contrast with what UC is doing to his tits drives Yunho over the edge.
“God,” Yunho breathes, desperate to vocalise some of what he’s feeling. “Yes. Yes,” and he comes in his jeans. Oh fuck, he’s just creamed himself and-and it’s warm and wet and oh God, he did not just do that, oh Christ, this is embarrassing.
UC licks from his nape up into his hairline. Yunho quivers and quivers. How much spunk does he have inside him anyway? It’s like a flood and he can’t stop it, and he’s glad it’s dark in here because his face is burning with shame.
Then UC’s touch glides down, and one hand closes over his half hard dick, and UC rubs his palm and fingers all over Yunho’s wet jeans. It feels dirty and wrong and so exciting, and then UC lets go of him and takes his hands away completely, and in the sudden silence Yunho hears a deep inhalation, and ohhh fuck, is UC actually sniffing Yunho’s come on his hand? And-and then there’s a tiny wet noise, and Yunho can’t breathe, because surely UC is licking his damp hand, and that is just perverse.
Another moment of silence, and then UC moves away. Yunho hears his footsteps, then the squeak of the door handle. It opens, lets in a sliver of light, and then closes again.
Yunho exhales shakily, his legs still trembling, his skin prickling with sweat. He shuffles to one side of the room and leans against a shelf, pressing his overheated face to the cool metal. He stays there until his phone beeps.
You can come out now, says the message. I am very pleased with you.
Yunho staggers towards the door, almost tripping over a box. He pauses, combs a hand through his hair to flatten where it must be sticking out at the back, and then opens the door of the stock room and peers out. It seems like a million miles between here and the safety of his office. He has to walk past all his employees with aching nipples and a lapful of come.
Thank God he wore black jeans today.
* * *
>> Part 2 >>