Chapter Text
Rikuson hears the now familiar sound of Maomao’s sneakers coming from down the hall.
Maomao, his boss's daughter, otherwise known as off-limits.
If he finishes out these last three months of his two year apprenticeship under Kan Lakan, he’s guaranteed a salary job. Having never been so lucky to have a steady flow of cash, let alone reliable health insurance, Rikuson really wants to stay in his boss’s good graces.
The only problem?
La Maomao.
The daughter of his boss, and weird half sister/cousin to his co-worker Lahan. In the time he’s been working here, he’s gotten the chance to know Maomao. Not only know her, but develop feelings for her. Feelings that he had fully intended to keep buried, until she started messing with him a few months back.
Maomao works on a few odd afternoons while she finishes her own university schooling. She coordinates with Lahan to do her secretarial work, aiming for the days Lakan works from home. This afternoon just so happens to be one of those days. Currently, Lahan is away on lunch, and Lakan just left to finish out his work day at home.
The department he and the La’s work in is attached to the larger corporate office with a hallway, and a door separating them from the other departments. Meaning anyone in the office will be able to tell when someone is coming and going.
The door knob twists, signaling Maomao. Rikuson looks up from his computer screen as casually as possible when she enters. To his utter delight, and dismay she’s once again set out to torture him.
Fitted in her worn tennis shoes, a fitted button down blouse, and a short pleated skirt Maomao sets her tote bag and a couple textbooks down on her desk, beside his. Lahan and Lakan’s offices are behind their desk space, down a different, shorter hallway. His and Maomao’s desks face towards a wall of bookshelves and maps.
She boots up her desktop.
“Is Lahan here?” She asks into the otherwise quiet space.
“He’s at lunch.”
“Hm.” Maomao replies before standing from her chair, and venturing over to the bookshelves. She starts pulling books from the shelf and paging through a few, as if she’s searching for something in particular.
Rikuson knows better. He knows this is just the beginning.
Clicking open a spreadsheet, he starts entering numbers into the data he is supposed to record, doing his best to ignore her. Like clockwork, a book drops to the floor. Beside his better judgment, he steals a glance over his monitor.
Mistake!
She had chosen that moment to bend over, giving him a near perfect panty shot.
Cheeky. Lime green polka dots.
His eyes flit back down to his data recording, attempting to keep his breathing under control, and his face neutral. Waiting a minute he thinks she will straighten out to standing, but when her head doesn’t bob back up he takes another look.
Maomao has now moved on to crawling around the floor. A pack of pens has somehow ended up sprawled across the floor in the time he’d been watching his screen. The back of her skirt swishes back and forth, making for a truly incredible visual. With every crawl forward, her skirt shifts, and he’s able to catch another delicious show of her polka-dotted backside.
For being so petite, it’s a bit of a surprise she has such a substantial behind. His hands could easily cup both of her cheeks, and still have some skin out of grasp.
Damnit. She got him. Again!
With an obvious exhale from his nostrils, Rikuson clicks loudly at different icons on his monitor, giving the false impression that he’s busy. When he’s able to see Maomao’s ponytail above his screen he decides to end this.
“It’s working.” He says casually, feigning work.
“What is?” Maomao counters with little emotion in her tone. To anyone else this could be seen as a nonchalant response, however, Rikuson knows that she knows, she’s won.
He can’t give her more proof without giving himself away. Stuck in a precarious position at his desk, Rikuson’s cock slowly springs to life against his inner thigh.
Minimizing his spreadsheet he starts making squares with his cursor on his desktop background.
Choosing not to glance at her, Rikuson decides to give her a taste of her own medicine.
“I dreamt of you last night.” Under his desk, out of view, he spreads his legs apart. He pays her no mind, instead fingering through the papers next to his computer, wishing he was fingering something else entirely.
“You did?”
He scans a paper, failing to take in what’s actually on the page.
“Yeah, in fact, you were in a similar position to what you were doing on the floor just a minute ago.”
She’s quiet, so he goes on.
“The only difference was you weren’t wearing any clothes.”
Lifting his eyes from the paper he looks over to her at the bookshelf, facing him. When she catches him staring at her she whirls back around, and gets on her tiptoes, attempting to reach a book.
Smirking to himself when he catches that the tips of her ears are red, he thinks maybe he stands a fighting chance against her and her games.
“Can you help me get this book down?” Maomao’s arms are stretched fully upwards, her fingertips barely touching the bottom of a large tomb on one of the higher shelves.
“Now why would you need one of the books up there? I happen to know you’re supposed to be filing papers today.”
Turning to face him, she gives him one of her pointed looks. One that she uses when she’s really trying to mess with him.
Briefly, he considers going along with her request. The vixen probably just wants him to press his front into her back against the bookshelf. Or maybe that’s just what he wants. Either way, he’s not about to give away that she’s won the war she’s started today—the evidence standing at attention in his pants.
“Are you going to help me or not?”
“I’ll pass. There is a stool tucked away in Lahan’s office if you really need to reach something.” Rikuson voices, trying to sound as indifferent as possible.
Clicking open his spreadsheet, he tries to sort out where he left off. He doesn’t get very far before Maomao’s striding up to his desk, and smacking her palms down.
Deciding to tease her, he keeps his eyes locked on the screen before him. Until he realizes she’s climbing onto his desk, forcing him to gaze up.
Maomao locks in on him, proceeding to push forward a folder full of papers down onto the floor. She hops down, making her way to his side, before she starts picking up the papers.
Rikuson swivels in his chair, watching her bend down onto her hands and knees again. He lightly lifts his foot and steps on one of her hands, forcing her to stop and glare up at him. The cold demeaning look alone makes his cock twitch.
“Could you move, Sir? I’m trying to do my work.”
Sir? What the hell kind of formality fantasy was she playing at?!
He’s leaning down before he can think better of it. Reaching a hand out to grab her chin, forcing her to gaze up at him.
“You want it so bad.”
Maomao’s face scrunches, her eyebrows furrow. Then she looks down at his crotch, which she has a clear view of now.
“From the looks of it, so do you.”
Letting go of her chin, and moving his foot, he swipes up the remaining papers, setting them on his desk. Moving his chair to face his desktop again, he waits.
For the first time today he has a leg up on her.
“What, that’s it?” Maomao asks, the barest hint of annoyance in her tone. She stands and brushes her skirt off.
“For now.” Rikuson shrugs.
Like clockwork, Lahan opens the door, reciting calculations under his breath. He’s lost in his own world today, some days when Maomao’s working he is not. Which has led to some awkward encounters.
Luckily, Lahan hasn’t questioned Rikuson outright about anything… yet .
“Rikuson, come with me. I need your help recording.” Lahan says, walking away towards his office.
Rikuson blank faces briefly, feeling Maomao’s sinister eyes narrowing in on him.
“Go on then.”
With Lahan out of the main office space, Rikuson pushes his chair out from under his desk, his eyes going to Maomao’s. Standing with more force than necessary, he walks around his desk, to venture towards the short hallway.
His dick is obviously tented in his gray work slacks. She’s biting her lip, smiling at his manhood teasingly. To mess with her , he reaches into his pants and boxers, tucking himself upwards so his boner isn’t so obvious.
Stepping closer to Maomao after adjusting himself, he gets in her face. She peers up at him, clearly eager for him to do something. What he decides to do, ends up surprising her– he flicks her forehead with his middle finger.
“You’re annoying.”
Maomao steps closer, her chest brushing against his torso.
“Is that so?”
“Amongst other things.”
“I’d be curious to know what these ‘other things’ are.”
“I’m sure you would be.”
Maomao presses ever closer, she even goes so far as to slide her thigh against his crotch. Trying to keep his dick from becoming more obvious he steps back, and holds her shoulders to keep her an arms length apart from him.
Her face shifts to her familiar neutral expression, before she shimmies out of his hold and walks over to her desk. Rikuson takes this as his cue to finally go back and help Lahan.
“If you intend to make a real move, you best do it soon. I’ve accepted an invitation for a date recently.” Maomao speaks out, his back to her.
Rikuson straightens, little does he know that what she’s just told him will circle around in his mind for the rest of the day. He has every intention to ask her out after his apprenticeship, and he intends to stick to that rule he’s set for himself. Despite the rocky relationship between his boss and his daughter, he knows Lakan cares deeply for Maomao, in his own weird way.
Maybe it’s cowardly of him, but for now all he can do is fight the temptation. The temptation to touch her, hold her, get to know her– it’s all becoming increasingly unbearable with every passing minute. This is all he can do for now. Play into her games, and try to not break.