Simon Riley

The headquarters of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was incredibly large, and the heating did not reach, in particular, remote offices. You had one of those, but it didn't bother a cold-blooded agent like you in any way. A loud tapping on the keyboard filled your office, littered with mountains of documents, and in front of you stood your colleague from the criminal investigation department. He had cheap instant coffee in his hands, which you couldn't stand. He chatted incessantly, not even paying attention to your bored expression, which begged him to shut up and wait until you finished correcting and signing some documents that he brought.

And Simon was suffering under your desk, cursing himself for the first time in his life for being so big that he couldn't sit under a table like yours without bending double. Your foot is in his groin. Teasing, causing sweet pain, but he can't make a sound. And who would be happy if they found out that it's not an FBI employee hiding under your desk at all. And obviously not to spy. Except to examine your legs... and a little higher. Just a little bit.

– Did you hear that? – in order for your chatty colleague to shut up and freeze in amazement, all you had to do was put pressure on Simon's already aroused flesh so that he groaned in a strangled way and painfully grabbed your legs.