#anyway this is bad im sorry lmao

“Satya, please, lemme—”

“Shh,” she says, the black grip of her prosthetic finger against his lip. “You must be conscious of volume.”

“I—I know, I just—c’mon, please, I’m—”

“Close?”

He nods, his hips stuttering upward in a desperate attempt.

“What will you do for me?”

“I’ll—” Jamison swallows and scrunches his eyes shut. Sweat sticks to his temples. “I’ll repay the favor. I will. Double.” Biting at the smile by the corner of his mouth, he gives his middle and index fingers an indicative pump. “Promise.”

“How very generous.” Her hand slicks up the length of his cock, thumb trailing just up the underside to swirl soft circles where he’s most sensitive. “And if I refuse?”

Neurons snap at the very thought. “I could—hah, I could—dunno, maybe—”

But Satya kisses him, softly, fully, drinking his disjointed words with a gentle kind of hunger. She smells like jasmine and tastes like the chocolate biscuits he’d left her and he absolutely cannot stand the slow attention she’s lavishing him with, one casual stroke at a time. If he could find the courage to curl an arm around her, perhaps he could pull her into his lap so he might tease her in return, but he remains as still as he can, prosthetic hand coiled into leather upholstery—the conference room is the last place he’d expected a wristie.

“I won’t refuse. I wanted to see your reaction.”

Jamison struggles for composure. “Why?”

“I like the way your mind works,” she says, and treats him to a tightening upstroke. “I wanted to see if you would come up with an alternative.”

“Oh.” His thoughts scatter, bewildered. She likes his mind? Is that a compliment? “Didn’t really—hah—didn’t give me a proper chance, you know. S’not fair.”

“I’m well aware.” The sharp gold-hazel of her eyes captures his attention. “There will be plenty of time for alternatives later. That is, unless you would rather adhere to your first suggestion?”

With a pleading moan locked behind his teeth, Jamison thrusts up into her hand again. She feels so fucking good; she drives him up a wall with varying speeds and how she likes to squeeze him just at where he’s thickest before teasing the wet bead of white down his tip, sending his sparking nerves aflame. His fingers itch to steal her like she’s some cherished painting worth millions but he sucks in a ragged breath and opens his eyes and looks at her because he must commit this to memory, he must: she sits across from him, one leg crooked behind his, an amused smile cresting her countenance, the crisp angles of her uniform a stark contrast to the patches on his unbuckled trousers.

“You name it,” he says, far huskier than he’d intended, “I’ll adhere to it.”

“Very well. I look forward to it, then.” It’s hot, breathless, spoken by his ear. The sheer promise in each syllable makes him want to shout.

Satya sharpens her speed and increases her grip, and then before he can manage a gasp, she leans forward and down and slicks the head of his cock between her lips and oh fuck, she feels fantastic—her tongue draws a thick line and she begins to suck and her hand pumps him with haste, a constant, tightening throb that arcs through him in laving fire—god, he can’t take it any longer, he can’t, please, please—

He shudders as a bolt of pleasure lances through him, sweet and aching and entirely perfect, and he tries to ride it out with desperate little rolls of his hips. She works him through each trembling shock and pulse; her hand mimics his thrusts and the welcoming heat of her mouth swallows every drop.

Utterly unwound, Jamison lets his left hand splay across her shoulder. The pristine fabric of her uniform dimples beneath his palm as he watches her draw away, her tongue tending to one corner of her mouth. He knows he ought to say something, but his mind is pleasantly blank.

“Acceptable?”

He nods, dazed.

“Good.” She sidles closer, prosthetic fingers combing back a stray jet lock from her bun. “The others will be here soon. I will leave repayment to your discretion. You did say double, correct?”

“Double,” he says, testing the word. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Double.”

A moment ticks by where she seems to study him. “Will this be a continuously transactional arrangement?”

Jamison frowns. “Meaning?”

“A favor for a favor for a favor, ad infinitum.”

“Ad infinit—” He feels somehow tongue-tied, like he’s a little too drunk. “Uh, maybe? If that’s what you want. You won’t hear no complaints from me. Honestly, I’m just—”

She kisses him once more, damp fingers lined along his jaw; it drops the words right back down his throat. He finds himself leaning in, eager, ecstatic, his heartbeat a harrowing thunder ensconced beside his lungs. He slides his palm around her waist and to the small of her back, and then she’s situated between his thighs, her breath a soft flutter against his lips.

“Double it is, then,” she says.

“Double,” he agrees. “Ad infinitum?”

Satya’s aplomb fractures with a snicker. “If that is what you want. Ad infinitum.”