Work Text:
The clacking of the keys resonated off the bare walls as Tyrell worked on the code.
Over the Swede’s shoulder, Mr. Robot observed as line after line filled the screen. A huff of laughter escaped his lips at a particular function Tyrell decided to use.
Mr. Robot leaned in over Tyrell’s right shoulder, hands in his pockets as he squinted at the screen. “You sure that’ll work?” He spoke quietly right beside the other’s ear.
The question startled Tyrell. He got so lost in coding he didn’t notice when the other man approached him. Not that he forgot Elliot was in the room with him. That would be impossible. The other’s presence calmed him, even when the other Elliot was in control. But with the way this was said, he was sure it was his Elliot he was speaking with at the moment. The one he was in the arcade with. The one he almost declared his love to.
This was getting distracting. Tyrell swallowed, turning back to the screen. He had a job to do.
“It’s not finished,” Tyrell replied, a bit irritated. “It will go faster if you stop breaking my focus.”
“Oh?” Mr. Robot teased. It was so easy to ruffle the business man’s feathers. He wanted to see Tyrell lose his air of cleanliness and perfection. Wanted to make him into a dirty mess. A begging, panting, squirming creature at their mercy. If he had a chance to speak to Elliot, Mr. Robot was sure the host would agree. He had free access to all the data in Elliot’s mind. He knew everything that was going on in there.
After all, they were in essence the one and the same. Why not have some fun in the meantime? Placing his palms on the table, bracketing Tyrell, he continued. “Am I distracting you?”
“Elliot.” Tyrell was intent to remain stern and focused.
“ I don’t think I’m distracting you.” Mr. Robot leaned in closer, lips almost brushing Tyrell’s ear.
“Elliot…” He could smell the cheap cigarettes coming off of the hacker. By this hour, he must have smoked through at least a pack and a half. With anyone else it would disgust him. But this was Elliot, and everything about him enticed Tyrell. Just this rare moment of closeness caused warmth to spread through his core.
Mr. Robot hummed in his ear. “Besides, I bet you could work even through distraction ,” the bastard spoke low, as if on purpose. As if knowing just what his proximity was doing to Tyrell. “Bet you could finish it all with no errors given the right incentive .”
The suggestive tone of his voice confused and excited the Swede. Was Elliot just offering what he thought he did? They would barely touch each other. The other one couldn’t even stand him. A kiss seemed like a distant dream. Yet, here he was, speaking lewdly in his ear, offering him some form of sexual gratification if his tone was anything to go by.
Screw the tone, his hand started toying with the buttons of Tyrell’s shirt. He couldn’t see them under the tie but he could feel them. Just the simple brush through his clothes was making his cock harden.
“Elliot, I have to…” His fingers clenched, hovering above the keyboard.
“Go on.” A soft kiss to Tyrell’s ear. “Keep typing.” Mr. Robot encouraged him as his hand dipped lower, slow and steady on its way to Tyrell’s belt. It paused there, as if waiting for the other to move.
Tyrell licked the sweat from his upper lip. He placed his hands back into the position, index fingers on F and J of the keyboard. He looked at the lines of code he had written so far. The letters jumbled a bit as he tried to read them. On the third attempt he managed to make sense of what he was writing.
Elliot barely moved as he waited.
Tyrell continued his work. Elliot seemed content to let him write a couple of lines in peace. To set his code and mind in order. He successfully finished the loop even with Elliot touching him. One quick look through the code confirmed he was on the right track.
“Good job.” Mr. Robot praised him. Before the sentence reached the end, his hand slid fully down, firmly cupping Tyrell’s hard cock through his designer pants. A surprised moan escaped Tyrell’s mouth, hands going off the keyboard again. He quickly learned that Elliot followed him. If he stopped, so would the other man. So he continued typing.
The touches grew more maddening in their teasing. Nimble fingers alternating between drawing patterns on his hard cock and cupping and stroking him. He squirms in the seat, barely able to focus on his work as his left nipple is toyed with through his clothes. It’s at a really complex function that Mr. Robot unbuckles his belt, opens his pants, and shoves his hand inside, flesh finally touching flesh. Tyrell’s choked moans echo off the empty walls no matter how hard he tries to restrain them.
At one point, Mr. Robot takes his hands off of him. Tyrell keens. In the reflection of his screen, he can see Elliot, eyes hooded, licking his fingers. The wet digits are pushed back into his pants to tease his cockhead. The words on the screen stutter, and he has to correct some typos. He turns his head to the side to properly look at Elliot. The hacker is smiling, with that mischievous look in his eye. He looks Tyrell up and down before leaning in. Peppers his cheek with kisses, trailing down to his neck. Licks and sucks as Tyrell squirms from pleasure. His eyes close for a moment, in pure bliss.
He opens them, doing his best to focus on the task, fingers relentlessly tapping at the keys.
Mr. Robot rests his chin on Tyrell’s shoulder. He quickly reads through the code, admiring it. He increases the pace of his hand. Speeding up the strokes. Tightening his grip. With a few more lines, it’s complete and Tyrell finally lets go of the keyboard only to grip the edge of the table, knuckles going white.
“Fuck, kiddo. Next time I should bend you over the desk and slowly open you as you work. Then fuck you hard until you finish.”
Tyrell groans loudly as he comes all over Mr. Robot’s hand, his hips snapping up.
When he finally sinks into the chair, panting, he can feel the hacker let go of his softening cock. He watches as Elliot casually wipes his hand on the expensive suit.
Out of habit, Tyrell presses his fingers to his pulse point glancing at the clock, and measures his heartbeat.
“Cute,” Mr. Robot smiles at the gesture.
Turning his head, Tyrell observes him for a few moments. He reaches for Elliot’s face. He wants a kiss. He needs it badly.
“Not yet.” Mr. Robot moves out of the way, leaving the other man leaning towards him in the chair. Fooling around was one thing, but genuine affection? That was for Elliot to give.
“When?” Tyrell asks with a hint of sadness in his voice, slowly pulling his arms back and folding them in his lap. Yearning evidently consuming his entire being.
“When the mission is complete.” Mr. Robot replies firmly. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it.
When Elliot returns.