Work Text:
One of his recurring office day-dreams involves a mostly-naked Jeff Winger. One whose only remaining article of clothing is a pair of striped underwear, left on purpose for him to remove with his teeth. He is there, waiting for him with his glorious naked torso and smarmy smirk.
There is so much for him to devour, so many inches of skin and muscle begging to be explored with his mouth. He moans at the mental image, then takes a deep breath, and finally answers her assistant (who’s now visibly uncomfortable) on what the theme for the next dance should be.