Work Text:
It very well may kill Rusty Venture to purchase an appropriate amount of chairs for the desk you’re currently standing over… on account of the lack of open seats. You were tasked with reviewing a screwed-up patent for one of his latest inventions, some kind of radio or something. He’s been checking on you far more than he should have to, considering you felt that your task was meager busywork. On more than one occasion, you felt as though he was much closer and in your personal bubble than he needed to be; several times his breath was close enough to feel on the back of your neck. You swear to god he was trying to get up the courage to start dry humping you like a dog, the last few times he’d come to “check on you”, he was practically pressing himself into your backside. Speaking of, you heard the telltale sign of dress shoes on the smooth flooring approaching you once more. Heat bloomed across your face as you felt him move in much, much, closer than the last few times; he was as pressed up against you as much as he could be, practically merging you two together.
Pointing towards the bottom of the paper, he groaned out an, “Oh, hm, yeah you have to fix that line right-” he punctuated his correction with a pointed grind against your behind, causing you to let out a small whimper, “...there! The serial number is 3306, not 3505. Otherwise-” another rub of his crotch against your ass, “it’s perfect, ready to ship, even. Nice work.”
You mutter a small, “Thaaanks.” punctuated with a half-hearted false grin, in relief as he walks back to the other side of the room, no doubt wearing a stupid smirk on his face. Fixing your mistake with a bit of corrective tape and a pen, you finally signed off on the document. Bringing the paper to the copier, you set it to print an initial one-thousand copies to start. Reluctantly, you slink back over to where Rusty was sitting at his desk, you know… in a chair. Comfy looking one, too. Asshole. He glances up at you with what you assume is an attempt at “bedroom eyes.”
“Anything else you need me to take care of today, Dr. Venture?” you feel so awkward, and can’t meet his gaze. You feel more like a prey animal than an employee at this point.
“Well,” he begins, leaning closer to you over his desk, “let’s skip the formalities, sweetheart. You can just call me Rusty.” He winks lecherously at you. You feel yourself recede further into your skin, feeling unbearably awkward and foolish. He doesn’t answer your question, you don’t understand why until a long pause has fallen between you two; he was waiting for you to correct yourself.
“Ah, sorry. Um, is there anything else you need, Rusty?” your sentence comes out dripping with nerves. You’re not sure why, or how, but something about him is growing on you.
“Much better, sweetness. To answer your question, I think the rest of the paperwork can be handed off to someone else, you’ve worked really hard today.” He smirks again, and something in you feels it this time. Gross.
“Oh, um, are you sure? I only got through half the stack, and it’s only noon..?” you trail off, noticing him fidgeting a little in his seat. “Are you alright? What’s with you today?” you tilt your head inquisitively, concerned but still privy to his antics.
His grin widens as he stands up from his seat with a small huff of air, wandering over to the other side of the desk to settle behind you. His hands, gentle but somewhat clammy, grasp your shoulders. You think he perhaps is doing it as some sick sort of encouragement? A “reward” for your work today? You know for certain you’d barely cracked through half of the stack of paperwork he presented you with this morning, so why was he acting so… odd?
“Just congratulating my favorite colleague on a job well done today.” he starts moving his hands lower, rubbing your back in the process. “Actually, I may have one more job for you, if you’re interested?” This question was immediately followed by his hands reaching your lower waist, dangerously close to your crotch. You grimace a bit, not wanting to compromise your career. This was just an internship though, and something about the aging past-his-prime super scientist was alluring to you. You could tell that it had been… a while since he had felt any sort of affection from anyone. If ever. His thumbs rub circles into your skin, albeit through your clothes. Something in you decides that throwing caution to the wind would be a hell of a lot more fun than going home and doing god-knows-what. You turn around, but still can’t bring yourself to look your boss in the eye.
“And what would that be, Rusty?” you steal a quick glance at his face, he has a filthy smirk, as you’d expected.
He takes this opportunity to close the gap between you two, arms caging you to the desk, pressing his groin into yours, from the front this time. “Well, I can tell you’re good with your hands, what with the beautiful handwriting you do on all my forms.” You have to stifle a giggle; this is how he asks for a handjob?
Why is this so endearing?
“Thank you?” you huff out as he grinds himself against you again, certainly past the half-mast point by now. “I’m better at handwriting than guessing, though. What is it you’d like me to do, Doctor?” you attempt to flirt back, almost as tactless as he was.
“Oh, I think you know, girlie.” he angles his lower half away from you, only to move one hand off of the desk to grip yours. Eagerly, he brings your hand down to his growing hard-on and gingerly guides you to rub it.
You bite your lip, feeling beyond flustered. Looking up to meet his gaze once more, managing to mutter out a meek inquiry. “Do- do you want to go sit? So we can um, continue?” You feel your cheeks burning more after every word.
“Excellent idea, sweetheart!” He pulls your hand away from his pants, and nearly drags you back with him to the other side of the desk. For such a spindly guy, he’s got some strength to him when he’s eager. He sits in his chair, and you take position on the ground in front of him. Taking a little initiative, you rest your cheek on his thigh, tracing vague shapes on the opposite with your finger. “God, you’re such a tease, you know that?” he quips, situating a hand on the top of your head. “Always wearing that cute little get-up down here, not being able to look me in the eyes when I give you assignments, it’s precious.”
You’re wearing the standard-issue ol’ reliable employee uniform, but you can’t deny your penchant for staring at his shoes when he spoke to you. “Um, can’t help it, you’re just so… handsome?” your squeak came out more as a question than a statement, but he didn’t seem to notice. He spread his legs further with a pent up huff as you worked your hand back up to his crotch, moving past it to fiddle with his belt buckle. God help you if he didn’t take the clue to undo his speedsuit, because you sure as hell didn’t think you had it in you to. As though he read your mind, he rushed to undo the top buttons, down to the belt. You took the lead and undid his belt, allowing it to fall open and reveal the band of his underwear beneath. You reach for his zipper, slowly tugging it down. You’re presented with a modest bulge, and an ever-growing wet spot. Fuck, you’re really in it now.
“Hah, intimidated? I know, you must be; quite an impressive setup I’ve got going on down there.” The hand on your head moved to your cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb.
My god, could he get any more lame? Yet, his unique charm is, undeniably, reeling you in. In an attempt to gain more control in the encounter, you begin palming his erection through his boxers.
“Y’know , I don’t usually wear these. Thought I’d be kind enough to wrap your gift today.” he chuckles down at you, humping against your palm.
“Well, gee, thanks for the bonus.” you can’t help but snicker, placing more and more pressure on your… gift. How generous! He reciprocates, rutting himself against you with a notable lack of abashment.
You bring your mouth to the tip of his cock, beads of precum threatening to spill along the shaft. Looking up at him through lidded eyes, you give his slit an experimental lick. He huffs, biting his lip. Taking this as a clear go-ahead, you take the head into your mouth, slowly adapting to a rhythmic bobbing. His hand meets the back of your head once more, gripping feverishly as you hollow your cheeks around him. You try your hardest not to drool as you take him to the back of your throat, gag reflex be damned.
“H- fuck, just like that. My god, you’re a dirty one aren’t you? Seducing your boss in his own lab.” He punctuates his mock-reprimands with a click of his tongue, and a noticeably firmer hold on your head. Meanwhile, you could feel the heat between your legs growing ever more apparent. You figure he wouldn’t mind if you slipped a hand down the front of your uniform, fingers grazing over your clit with feverish desire. A whine escapes you, reverberating against him.
“Couldn’t help yourself, hm?” he chuckles between labored breaths, your little show working him closer and closer to the edge. Your only response being a glance upwards with glassy eyes as you quicken your pace, teetering on the brink of your own release as well. His hips buck upwards, stuffing your mouth full of him. “Just a little more, sweetheart, fuck-” he practically whines as you feel his cock twitch against your tongue, cum spattering the back of your throat. As you work him through his orgasm, you reach your peak as well; whimpering and whining around him all the while. You could tell that Rusty was seeing stars, laid back in his chair trying to catch his breath. Coming down from cloud nine, you release his cock with a wet pop. Of course, you lean down to give the tip one final kitten lick for good measure. His hips jerk upwards and he whines, now overstimulated.
“You’re a real doll, y’know? Really know how to make a man feel special.” he praises, words swimming in your fucked-out brain like a dream. “I should give you, let’s say, special assignments more often. I’ve already got one in mind for tomorrow.”
You don’t even need to think about it, already picturing your own little scenarios and provocations.
“I’d love to, Doctor Venture.”