It's sometime after midnight when his secretary opens the door and says, "he's here sir."
Rafael Barba nods, slowly sipping his bourbon. "Let him in, thank you. And you can head home for the night."
"Yes sir, have a good night," she says and ushers the man inside before leaving.
Silence, other than the light footfalls. The doctor barely gives the office a glance, as if he's been there dozens of times, as if he knows precisely why he's here. And perhaps he does.
"It's been far too long," Barba drawls. Huang has his hands in the pockets of his charcoal grey suit, thick hair neatly combed back, red time perfectly knotted. A sharp smirk adorns his face.
"Has it? Seems you're always pissing off the FBI, Counselor."
"Only ever for a good cause. And let's drop the formalities George, after all my cock has been in that pretty little mouth of yours."
Barba watches as Huang only deepens his smirk. He is no longer a virginal agent aiming to please just as Rafael is no longer some smartass kid with something to prove.
"Fine," George says, "The bureau wants your head on a stick, Rafael."
"Don't they always?" he asks, finishing his bourbon and pouring another. He gazes up at Huang and asks innocently, "Drink?"
"What do you want Rafael? Surely you could have had this meeting with my boss or my boss's boss for that matter."
"Yes but they're not nearly as nice to look at." And this time George drops him gaze and licks his lips.
It's a tell, a subtle one, but it tells Rafael all he needs to know. He's winning.
"Perhaps," George quietly amends.
Rafael pours him a drink. "Who's to say that this whole thing wasn't some big ploy to get you down here?"
George approaches the desk, takes a sip from the heavy tumbler. "Because you're not that reckless," the bourbon goes down burning. He sighs. "Or that desperate."
"Don't be so sure," he counters, an unmistakable leer in his gaze, before taking another swig of his drink. "You can make a man do desperate things George."
"But you aren't just any man," George says, but it's not exactly a compliment, "and you wouldn't threaten your career over a cheap screw like me."
He puts the glass down with enough force to make George look up again. The attorney pushes his chair away from the desk, looking livid. "Don't call yourself some cheap screw when we both know better." They stare at each other. It really has been a while.
Then, in sultry drawl that George could never resist, "Come here, baby. Let me take of you."
This is the moment, the sum of all his efforts. He has no more cards left to play and he will certainly never beg. But he doesn't need to, for George scoots closer to him slowly, almost in a daze, until he's on his knees between the prosecutor's legs. Thick fingers caress and tug his hair as George nuzzles and licks the hard cock still confined. His hands go to the thick belt before Rafael grabs his hair and forces their eyes to meet. George groans. He's never been this goddamn hard so quick in his life.
"No, baby" he murmurs, voice all honey and smolder, his eyes dark and dangerous, "come sit on daddy's lap." And he does.
Rafael pulls the blood red tie and kisses him, deep and rough, his tongue heavy and slick and tasting of bourbon. The tie comes off soon after it's served its purpose, his hands quickly unbutton his shirt and removes the T-shirt underneath.
"So pretty," the attorney says quietly, running his large hands over the creamy skin, his voice the closest thing to reverence George has ever heard. He can feel Rafael's erection underneath his ass and whines impatiently. His teeth sink into Barba's neck on their own accord and the swat that comes to his backside isn't unexpected but no less unpleasant.
He looks so disappointed and George feels his cheeks warm with shame.
"You know how I feel about marks, George."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Barba looks him over, eyes narrowed. "Stand up and bend over."
He's bent over the desk, cock hard and leaking on important looking papers, expecting lube slicked fingers or perhaps a spanking for his crimes. What he does not expect is the attorney's hot tongue swirling around his entrance. He moans loudly, knees threatening to give out.
Barba chuckles and George can feel the hot breath on his thighs. "Seems I've forgotten you're a bit of a screamer, but try to keep it down would you? Wouldn't want the cops getting called."
He doesn't wait for a response, tongue lapping over George's tender hole, fingers following soon after. Then he hits the tight bundle of nerves inside him and George thinks he's going to cum on the spot.
But Rafael grabs his hips and spins him around until they're facing each other. He roughly pulls his own pants down, situating George on his lap and filling him in one fluid stroke.
"That's it baby," Rafael groans lowly in his ear, George's red cock bouncing between them. "I've forgotten how fucking tight you are." He hits the doctor's prostate and George cries out. "I'm sorry darling but I must do that again. Every time I do, your body does something simply divine."
Fucking divine. George can be such a slut for him, whimpering and moaning and licking as Rafael sets a punishingly slow pace, hands squeezing Huang's hips so hard he's sure they'll bruise. Perhaps it's the power of it all. George begging and wet and helpless. The attorney somehow keeping it together as he eases his cock in and out of the slick body. Perhaps it's the fact that they both know George will take anything Rafael has to offer and still be wet for more.
"What would they think George?" he demands, quickening his pace, "My secretary, Olivia, anyone coming in and seeing you on my lap, moaning like some back alley whore?" His hands squeeze and massage the doctor's ass cheeks, as the smaller man whimpers. He's so fucking close but he doesn't dare touch himself. He has not been given permission.
"Fuck, please." He's just so goddamn thick, George thinks, he's never felt so full. His prostate gets hit with every stroke.
"Please what?" He asks, though his thrusts are becoming rougher. His teeth sink into George's shoulder, his hands pinching his nipples.
"Please let me cum," George begs. There's tears in his eyes, his whole body nearly vibrating.
"Yes, you've been so good, so good. Cum for daddy baby."
And he does, without even having to touch himself. He hears the grunt and feels the hot liquid between his thighs and inside him as Rafael cums as well.
He expects nothing more than to be kicked out. He's served his purpose.
He's halfway through buttoning his shirt when Rafael's rough warm hands still his own.
"Where are you going?" It isn't a demand per say, but it certainly isn't a genuine question.
"I just thought…since you got what you needed that I should –"
"Stop talking nonsense. You're not some call girl that has to be snuck out through the service elevator. Stay. Stay."
He knows that he is special. Rafael Barba does not just hold anyone. He does not cater and caress. He certainly does not look at people the way he is looking at George now, eyes sincere and fingers carding softly through his hair. He kisses his swollen lips and George thinks it can't get any stranger until –
"What are you doing?" he asks. Rafael has taken wipes from his desk drawer and is, in fact, cleaning him.
"Be with me," Barba counters, dropping the wipes into a waste paper basket and looking him head-on.
"I'm sorry?" George says, raising himself to look in Barba's eyes thinking perhaps the sex and the overtime has made him delusional.
Rafael strokes his cheek, smiling softly. "Listen George, I'm not saying that bending you over this desk every time I get you alone isn't fun. But what I am saying is that I want to see you, to be with you, just be, not because we've found some way to piss of the FBI or we need you to testify in court. I want to be with you. You and me, no one else. For as long as you can put up with me."
George looks down at his hands, then away. He licks his lips, runs a hand through his hair. Then he raises his eyes to meet Rafael's once more.
"Okay."
"Okay?" Rafael says and he can't help his smile. He nods, still smiling. "Well okay then."
"Dinner?" Huang asks, attempting to right his clothing. They'll be bruises and bite marks in the morning but he's quickly gotten used to them, and Rafael likes marking what's his.
"I thought you'd never ask."
…
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