Work Text:
Pete thought he had better reflexes. He wished he did. He reached, trying his best to grab his phone out of his coworker and friend’s hand, but it was too late.
“Porsche!” Pete hissed. “I told you not to send that!”
“Why take it if you didn’t plan to send it?”
Pete sighed. He had only been at the company for a few weeks and had already been recently transferred to a new department. He and Porsche saw less of each other, so Porsche was extra eager to annoy him on their lunch breaks.
Vegas sat in his office with the shades drawn.
Another employee of Kinn’s had been shifted over to his department, and the guy seemed goofy. Still, Kinn assured Vegas that Pete was a stellar asset.
Looking over his resume again, Vegas sighed. It was true that Pete had all the qualifications, and then some, but the smile in his photo just didn’t build confidence.
Dragging his finger over the photo again, Vegas blinked when he heard his phone ping.
As soon as Pete sat down at his computer after lunch, he saw he already had a summons to the boss’s office. What had he possibly done this time?
With a heavy sigh, Pete logged out of his computer and got up, slipping his lanyard over his neck.
Knocking on the boss’s door, Pete called, “You wanted to see me?”
Vegas spun around in his chair with a smirk on his face.
“Come in. Lock the door.”
Vegas watched as Pete made a confused face at the request, even as he fulfilled it.
Once the door was locked, he turned back to Vegas and asked, “Is there something I can do for you, sir?”
“There is,” Vegas purred. “And I think you know why I called you in here.”
Pete’s head tilted to the side, his brow lifting under his thick bangs.
Oh, so he wanted to play coy? Vegas could work with that.
“Sir?”
Vegas stood, motioning for Pete to come closer as he walked around his desk, stopping to lean against it once he was facing Pete.
“I must say, I didn’t take you for the bold type.”
“Bold? Sir, if this is about that expense report, I can use a different font-”
Vegas blinked, his mouth falling open.
Pete was so stressed. Was he about to get fired? Just because he used Helvetica instead of Times New Roman? He couldn’t lose his job; he had Yaai to take care of.
“Pete?” Vegas called, getting his attention. “What are you talking about? I thought you sent me that message as an invitation. One that I’m happy to accept.”
Invitation? Message?
Vegas pulled his phone out of his pocket, waving it in the air cheekily. The screen was dark, but Pete had a sinking feeling that he knew what the screen would show.
Vegas watched, highly amused as Pete scrambled for his phone, muttering useless pleas under his breath.
“Oh, no. Please, no. I’m gonna kill Porsche.”
The blood drained from Pete’s face once he unlocked his phone and checked his messages.
“Sir,” Pete said, unable to meet Vegas’s eyes. “I-I can explain. I-”
Vegas pulled Pete in close by his lanyard, shutting up Pete with a kiss as his eyes went comically wide.
“Save your explanation,” Vegas said. “I’ve seen yours. Care to see mine?”
Pete’s mind was a mess. He didn’t know how Porsche managed to send a picture of Pete’s dick to his boss, rather than posting it to the dating site Pete had just signed up for, but it seemed like Vegas wasn’t mad. It was quite the opposite, in fact. Pete couldn’t pretend that Vegas wasn’t incredibly attractive and charming; he just didn’t understand what Vegas could see in him of all people.
Pete felt his anxiety start to melt away, though, as Vegas cupped his jaw and pulled him in for another kiss. Vaguely, Pete heard his phone drop to the plush carpet as his fingers tugged at Vegas’s expensive shirt, pulling him closer as he returned the heated kiss.
Vegas wanted to swallow all of Pete’s soft sounds, keeping them for himself.
Pete was an excellent kisser, he was happy to note, and wonderfully submissive and receptive thus far. There was a list of things Vegas suddenly wanted to do with him.
Taking Pete’s wrist, Vegas managed to pry him away from his now-wrinkled shirt, pressing Pete’s palm against his cock, which was starting to get hard.
“How’s this for a raise?” Vegas smirked.
He grinned wider as Pete frowned, rolling his eyes.
Oh, he was much more fun than Vegas could have imagined.
Pete adjusted his tie, his cheeks a little flushed.
“Are you free after work?” Vegas asked, sitting behind his desk again.
“I am,” Pete replied, though it sounded like a question.
“Good. Send me your address and I’ll pick you up for dinner.”
Pete opened his mouth to protest. He knew that he should, although they were long past propriety. Dinner with Vegas sounded…nice.
“Okay,” Pete said, giving him a warm smile. “I’d…I’d like that.”
“See you soon, Pete.”
With his hand on the doorknob, Pete blushed a little deeper as he said, “See you later, Vegas.”
Pete practically floated back to his desk, scoffing as he realized he would have to thank Porsche.