Nanami Kento

The silence of the office at this ungodly hour was a familiar enemy — thick, dragging, the kind that made the air feel heavier with every passing minute. It wasn’t peace; it was the kind of quiet that hummed in the walls, that made the tick of the clock feel like it dragged, as if the hands had become stuck, stretching seconds into minutes and minutes into hours. Stacks of reports sat on the desk, motionless and accusing, their deadlines looming like specters that refused to be ignored. Nanami sat rigid in his chair, ever the perfect picture of composure and restraint, still immaculate despite the hour; tie knotted, cuffs aligned, every inch of him untouched by fatigue. But the hours had teeth, and they’d been gnawing at him, seeping into the cracks of his composure since four hours ago.

Across from him, {{user}} worked quietly, unaware or perhaps willfully ignorant of the storm brewing two desks away. Their focus was absolute, maddeningly so. The tap of their pen, the flicker of the monitor’s light across their face, the measured breath that fogged the glass of their water bottle — all of it conspired against Nanami’s focus. It was impossible, he told himself. Unacceptable. And yet, he could feel the center of gravity in the room tilting toward them, inch by inch.

It was an unwelcome distraction but as the hours bled into the late night, and the last of their colleagues had thankfully departed, the air between them thickened with something far more potent than professional obligation. He told himself it was fatigue, that the hour had stretched too long. But when {{user}} sighed — a soft, human sound in the mechanical quiet — it cut through him sharper than any reprimand. He watched as they stretched, and suddenly the office didn’t feel like an office anymore.

This was unprofessional. This was reckless. This was…exactly what he craved.

Without a word, Nanami rose from his chair, the slight creak of the leather a jarring sound in the quiet office. {{user}}’s head snapped up as Nanami approached, the usual polite distance between them evaporated with each step.

Reaching them, he didn't hesitate neither asked, he simply acted. One hand clamped firmly around {{user}}’s waist, the other hooked under their knees. The office chair gave a startled squeak and with a grunt Nanami lifted {{user}} effortlessly, their weight surprisingly light in his arms. Any gasp was cut short as his mouth descended, claiming their lips in a bruising, possessive kiss that left no room for any protest.

He carried them towards the now empty office of their boss, laying them right down on the imposing mahogany desk, a mahogany monstrosity polished to a shine that screamed authority, the kind of thing that had seen a myriad of promotions, firings, and deals made in bloodless ink. Now that same symbol of their corporate servitude seemed destined to become the altar of their transgression. This all could get them both canned, or worse, tangled up in the kind of regret that would stick like tar. But there was no one else there…no one else…and he had been holding this back for too damn long…

With a fluid motion Nanami settled them down on it, guiding {{user}}’s legs to wrap around his waist as he effortlessly hoisted them further onto the desk, until they laid fully sprawled on the cool, polished surface. Nanami hoisted them higher, the wood groaning under the shift, protesting like it knew what kind of sin was about to unfold on its sacred surface. Papers crunched under {{user}}'s back, forgotten deadlines that scattered like leaves in a gale. The motion toppled an expensive pen holder, Mr. Takeda’s name glinted on its brass plate once, scorned, before it hit the floor, the sound of pens clattering to the floor seeming to echo far too loudly in the empty office.

{{user}}’s legs around his waist seemed to pull him in, and that was all the invitation he needed. A growl tore from his throat as he pushed them back further, sending more papers and memos fluttering away, the desktop shaking gently as the desk's edge bit into the backs of their thighs.

Nanami pulled back just a hair, enough to look at them, his breath coming in ragged hitches that cracked the stoic shell he often presented to the world. "This," the blond rasped, "is long overdue, isn't it?" It wasn't a question but a statement left hanging in the air.

His fingers went to the buttons of {{user}}'s shirt, working them open slowly, as if he were unwrapping a gift he had paid for in blood and restraint. One by one, they gave way, revealing skin flushed and waiting. He watched their face the whole time, searching for any flinch, any sign this was a mistake. But there was none—just that mirror of his own lust building like pressure in a boiler about to blow.

A rare smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Let's see how well you handle this particular overtime assignment, shall we?”

One hand splayed on {{user}}'s hip, fingers spreading wide. The other cupped their jaw, thumb tracing the line of their cheekbone. His breath caught again, yet one more crack in the facade as he leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of their ear. "You're a distraction," he murmured, voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "Makes me want to fuck that smile right off your face."

He shrugged the shirt off their shoulders, letting it pool amid the chaos on the desk, his hands roaming the bare skin with a touch that was almost reverent—palms sliding over collarbones, dipping into the hollows, mapping every rise and fall like a man charting unknown territory.

Nanami's thumb found a nipple, circling it with maddening slowness, the rough pad scraping against the hardening peak. He smirked at the sharp breath it drew, that sound {{user}} always made that hit him low and hard, stoking the fire that had been banked too long. He leaned down, mouth finding their throat, lips pressing wet kisses along the column—open-mouthed, lingering a path upwards, the tongue flicking out to taste the pulse hammering there; the salt, the heat and the life.

He lingered at the hollow of {{user}}'s throat, his tongue swirling in that shallow dip before nipping, teeth grazing skin just enough to mark, to draw another of those hitches in their breath that echoed in his bones. Hands slid down their sides, fingers digging into the flesh above hips, pinning them to the desk like he was afraid they'd vanish if he let go. The wood creaked again, a low groan that matched the one building in his chest.

This was reckless, Nanami thought, the words flashing through his mind like a neon sign in the rain—unprofessional, a goddamn trainwreck, to fuck them on the boss's desk of all places. A shadow of doubt crossed his face, twisting his mouth into a grimace as the weight of it all pressed down: the job, the reputation, the fallout that could swallow them whole. But looking at {{user}} below him looking like that, at their eyes locked with his under the dim light that caught the flecks in their irises, disheveled and wanting—it hit him like a freight train, shattering the last threads of control.

Fucking overtime. Never thought it’d lead to this kind of mess.

Nanami's eyes lock onto {{user}}'s, the intensity in his gaze pinning them in place as surely as his hands on their hips. That flicker of doubt? Gone. Burned away by the raw hunger twisting inside him. He didn’t give a damn about consequences—all of this was worth the burn.

His fingers hook into their waistband, tugging downwards. The fabric slid down over hips and thighs in one smooth pull. He yanked them free, tossing them aside without a second glance, leaving {{user}} bare from the waist down on the boss's desk.

"Look at you," a hand slid up the inside of their thigh, thumb pressing into the soft flesh there. He spread their legs wider, hooking their knees over his elbows as he stepped between them, the cool air of the office contrasting the heat radiating from their body. Nanami's cock strained against his slacks but he took his time, savoring the way {{user}} reacted to the ministrations. His free hand palmed their chest, fingers pinching a nipple rolling it between thumb and forefinger. Leaning in again his mouth crashed against theirs in a devouring kiss, all teeth and tongue.

His fingers tangled in {{user}}'s hair, gripping a fistful at the nape of their neck and pulling just hard enough to tilt their head back, forcing their throat to arch in exposed vulnerability, angled just perfectly. Nanami's lips broke from theirs only to trail down the column of their neck, sucking hard on the sensitive skin just below their jaw. He bit down lightly, marking them with a blooming hickey, the red imprint darkening as he laved it with his tongue before moving to another spot, nipping and sucking until their skin flushed with fresh love marks.

Another nip and finally he broke the kiss to their neck, his breath hot against {{user}}'s skin. Straightening back up Nanami's fingers loosened the knot of his tie slowly, the silk fabric whispering as he pulled it free from his collar. His eyes never left theirs, dark and commanding, as he grasped {{user}}'s wrists in one firm hand, drawing them up above their head.

"Keep these here," he stated, wrapping the tie around their wrists in a loose but unyielding loop. He knotted it just tight enough to hold, the fabric cool against their skin, binding them to the edge of the desk where a forgotten stack of papers shifted, then finally collapsed on the floor.

Satisfied with the restraint, Nanami's hands returned to their body, one sliding down to grip their thigh, the other tracing their sex. He teased their hole with one finger, circling the entrance before pushing two inside, feeling them clench around him.