Moss barely had a moment to register the situation; the absurdity of the suggestion. His eyes were wide, blinking rapidly, as Roy dropped to the floor, shuffling under the oak, head fitting perfectly between his thighs. "What if we get caught, Roy? What if Jen walks in?" He inhaled sharply, fixing Roy with a panicked stare, to which the other only smiled.
"So many questions." The zipper dangled shamelessly from wicked lips, a slow hiss escaping them as a strong grip found his hair, tugging at dark curls. "Careful, will ya? I'm much too young to be going bald." He chuckled into the flesh of Moss' inner thigh, lips wet against the trembling warmth. Fingers splayed out, sinking into the fabric of his underwear, holding Moss steady, and he pulled, exposing the hardness beneath.
"F-Flip..." Moss squirmed in his seat, absolutely powerless; positively slack under Roy's tongue. He rolled his hips in time with those licks, every motion a hot lightning bolt of friction. Nothing else mattered at this point. All that he needed in life was to get off and Roy was the sole reason for that desire.
He was close, spouting nonsensical words and noises that filled the room, only to be drowned out by the echoing footsteps outside the door. His heart leaped in his throat as he shot back, desperate to look normal in case it was-
"Sorry, I'm late." Jen burst through, her hair a mess, her clothes damp. "It's pouring outside, like a bloody hurricane. Moss, you alright?" She fixed him with a concerned stare. "You look flushed. Do you have a fever? Where's Roy?"
"Too many questions," he blurted, nudging Roy to continue. He was so close. "Roy went to the toilet. He'll be back." He looked at her, mentally hoping that she would go to her office, and she stood there, almost like she didn't believe him. "He promised," he added in a quiet voice.
"Separation anxiety?" She clicked her tongue. "You two really need to see other people."
The minute she disappeared into her office, Moss released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He nudged Roy a second time, grunting softly as the slow burn of pressure built in his stomach. "Roy, please," he begged, "I need to finish."
"I know, babe." It was muffled, but the sincerity of it warmed him to the bone. He closed his eyes, settling into Roy's mouth, thrusting against his tongue. He could feel the back of Roy's throat, the heat surrounding him, and he clenched, that pressure at boiling point, and he came, quivering and shaking. Roy's hands were still at his side, holding him through release, and they didn't leave until his vision cleared.
"We are not doing that again."
"You say that now," Roy scoffed, placing a kiss to his inner thigh, "but I think you liked it more than you're letting on."
Moss wouldn't meet his gaze, but he smiled. "Maybe."