He can feel his pager vibrate at the end of the desk. Someone calling for him. An intern with a question- a nurse with an order- maybe something more important, important enough that he should go back to his beloved ER.

Ging can even see the pager from the corner of his eye. Small, gray rectangle with a belt clip. It's in reach. It's his responsibility and duty to check.

"Maybe you should see what they want." Paristons voice forces Ging to look back to the blonde, watch as he's languidly kissing between his collarbones. The skin already flush with marks that would be barely covered by his scrub collar.

Ging is seated in his lap, facing him, his back meeting the edge of the office desk uncomfortably. He hates this position, the way it makes him feel more exposed than needed, the way it gives Pariston access to wherever and whatever he wants.

"Yeah, maybe I should-" Before he can finish his sentence, the other man bites down hard on the soft skin between the bones, causing him to stifle a moan.

Pariston licks over the sore skin, teeth marks painfully visible. His hands had already found their way under Ging's scrubs, massaging the curves of his waist, occasionally dipping just over his hip bones, under his waistband, before pulling back.
If it's something really important they'd call for me over the intercom.

It's always like this, acting like neither of them care about what is happening, like it's a pastime before duty calls.

Paristons hand drifts down his thigh, slow, methodical, and painfully light. Nowhere near enough friction for Ging to solely focus on it, and thus still forced to hear the faint beeping.

His own hands had been resting on the man's shoulders, unsure where to tease and touch- He knows how to press, shove, hold, grab, apply pressure- but that wasn't part of the game they were playing today.

Instead he leans forward, pressing their lips together. When he feels Pariston return the kiss, he licks at his lips until he opens up his mouth for him. Their tongues meet, messily and uncoordinated, but for a moment it gives Ging the friction he searched for. Maybe on his deathbed would Ging admit that he liked how the other man tasted.

He could feel that the other man had gotten hard when he presses his hips down and is rewarded with a hum and more pressure from the hand on his hip. Satisfied, he nips at the other's bottom lip.

When Ging pulls back to get some air back into his lungs, unsure if it's been 5 seconds or 5 minutes, Pariston continues to kiss along the length of his jawline, over the thick stubble that he'd usually complain about.

He didn't notice the missing hand from his hip until suddenly-

A harsh, intense vibration echoes from his waist through his entire body. Ging gasps and unconsciously presses himself closer against Pariston, who had held the -still beeping- pager against his skin.

Pariston has this annoying, self satisfied smile on his lips, that almost made Ging want to get up and leave. "Oops."

"Don't do that-"

"Sure, sure"

They both knew that something of a similar function would inevitably show up in Gings- Paristons- Their- Someone's bedroom, but Ging hopes he'd be the first to use it as a tormenter.

But this was work equipment- More importantly, the split second that Pariston held it up, Ging could see the screen of the pager; Non-Emergent.

That was all he needed to know. He swats the small device out of Paristons hand.

"Abandoning your patients?"

"You're paying me whether I actually do my job or not."

Before Pariston can retort, Ging surges forward again, greedily licking into Paristons mouth, who returns the kiss just as eagerly.

Pariston kneads and pressed the meat of Gings thighs more insistently, his hands crept up to cup the curve of his ass, squeezing and grabbing until Ging finally shifts enough for him to pull down his scrub pants just over his knees. The cold air of the office hit his skin, again Ging presses closer to Pariston, desperate for friction and warmth. He bites at the exposed skin of his neck, though before he could leave a mark, the other man pulls him away by his hair.

"Rabid dog," Pariston hisses, before reaching into Ging's underwear and giving his cock a harsh tug, sending shivers through his body.

His thumb rubs slowly over the tip, spreading precum messily on his hand before wrapping it around Gings dick again and setting a harsh pace. His other hand goes back to grabbing at the other's ass, encouraging him to move his hips.

Ging instinctively grabs at the front of Paristons suit for leverage, resting his forehead on his shoulder. Soon sweat starts to run cold on his skin, gasps escape him unwillingly.

Again he licks at Paristons lips, biting and kissing, desperate to muffle anything else that could escape his mouth. The hand on his dick keeps pumping faster, teasingly gripping tighter. His orgasm was approaching, he could feel the pressure curl in twist in his gut, his heart beating so hard it nearly stumbles over itself-

"Fuck, shit-"

Ging comes, hips stuttering, white ribbons all over the jacket of Paristons suit, hands fisted tightly into his shirt.

There is just a second of relaxation, his breath catching up with him, all his muscles unwinding, his body temperature coming down to a comfortable coolness.

And then he is off of Paristons lap, pulling his pants up and fixing his scrubs to somewhat-presentable, smoothly leaving choking-range.

"Right on my suit, really? No warning?"

"It's a look! And look-" He bends over- definitely not provocative in any way- and picks up his pager from where he had tossed it. "I should really get back to work, or my boss will kill me." With a grin, Ging is out the door.

Later, before the end of his shift, after he dodges a million questions about where he had been, one of the nurses would comment about how she had never seen Pariston Hill in just a dress-shirt, without a suit jacket.