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Hot Boss in your area looking for a good time!

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It would be safe to say that Shiro’d had a shit day. It would be safe to say he’d had a shit month, to be honest, but who’s counting? Shit days have a miraculous way of blending together, but this one would be one for the record books, courtesy of board meetings that should have been emails, missing lunch for said meetings, and a little thing called shareholders. Well, he hadn’t become the CFO of Altea Enterprises to have fun (which, for the record, he hadn’t). Another late one for sure tonight. Whee.


(It’s not like he had anyone waiting at home anyway.)


With a sigh, Shiro opened the first of many spreadsheets he needed to review and absentmindedly took a bite of his Chinese takeout (bless his long-suffering assistant).   His phone chimed a notification and Shiro glanced at the screen. Not a known number.


i’ll show u mine if u show me yours


A prank text. Or a wrong number. Shiro debated between blocking the number and letting the person know they hadn’t reached whoever it was they were trying to when a second text arrived.


A dick pic.


Shiro had never actually gotten a dick pic before and he found it vaguely amusing that his first one would be from a wrong number. Not exactly a stellar achievement, but at least it was a (very) nice dick. In fact, studying it closer, this was a fully erect, deliciously shaped, beautifully pink penis and the hand wrapped around it was graceful and...wearing very familiar gloves. Where had he seen those gloves before?


Shiro sat up straight. Construction guy!   The cute guy helping with the remodel on the 10th floor! Those were the exact same gloves. Shiro had once made a very awkward attempt at flirting with him and had left before he could (he hoped) make a complete ass of himself. Maybe... Maybe it had worked…?


Or maybe Shiro was just horny and tired and reading way too much into a wrong number. Still, that glove… Shiro studied the glove (definitely just the glove). He'd had a fair look at it before when he’d shaken hands with construction guy with Keith (because a good boss pays attention to temporary workers and introduces himself, that’s why) and had been too embarrassed to look at him for more than a second (and then had shaken his hand for waaaaay too long).


Yeah. Okay. There was no way this text was from Keith. He was way too gorgeous to give Shiro the time of day and how would Keith have even gotten his number? Other than from the business card he had stupidly shoved in his hand as an excuse for why he kept shaking it and then had to give to everyone else as well to cover his tracks? Fuck.


Those were Keith’s gloves.


This was either a joke or an invitation or a very bizarre coincidence. Shiro chewed his lip and considered the situation. Oh, what the hell. The day (month) had already been shitty. Why not keep humiliating himself further?


Taking the phone in his totally-not-shaking-hands, Shiro began to type a reply.






Keith had made mistakes before—a lot of mistakes—but this was, hands down, the most Shitastically Bad one to date, and he had just realized it via text.


Come to my office.


Generally, when one’s boss’s boss’s boss texts you “Come to my office.” you know you’ve fucked up. If, however, you have just accidentally sent said boss’s boss’s boss a dick pic, you can bet your ass you are not only Fired with a capital f, but you AND your ancestors are due for a meeting with HR and a lawyer, pronto.




Ugggggh and this boss was so fucking nice, too. He’d introduced himself to everyone and even gave out his business card! And Keith just had to put it into his phone because he was pathetic and it felt nice to have a hot guy’s number. Meanwhile, Keith had decided to take his friend’s advice and try being bolder in the dating world. Two texts later (to what was supposed to be “Hot Bar Guy” and instead went to “Hot Boss”) and now Keith was cursing his traitorous phone for the mix up (totally not his own fault) and his traitorous dick for being so stupidly horny in the first place (also not his fault).


By the time the elevator had reached the top floor, Keith was a nervous wreck. At least it was the end of the day so there would be fewer people to witness him being verbally eviscerated and then handed a lawsuit. Shit. If he’d just held off on taking that stupid fucking picture for a few goddamn minutes he would have been off the clock and wouldn't have had to come in until tomorrow, but nooooo he just had to take his break right before the end of the day and take a dick pic in case Hot Bar Guy wanted to meet up for supper or something.


Fuck. Again.


The top floor was almost empty and Mr. Shirogane’s assistant gave him a weird look when he asked for directions to his office. After confirming over the phone that Keith was expected, she ushered him to his destination and then left for the day, leaving Keith stammering in the doorway and sweating far, far too much.


“I am so, so sorry. I know it was totally inappropriate and I swear it was an accident. I promise it will never happen again and I am so, so sorry,” Keith said in a rush. He was so nervous he felt like he might pass out and when his eyes lit on the bottle of liquor Shiro had on his desk, he wished he could chug it to get blessedly shitfaced out of his mind.


Shiro stared at him blankly for a moment, the awkwardness increasing by the second. Keith considered checking to see if the windows on this floor opened.


“ accident?” Shiro finally said, his voice distant.


“Yes, I swear,” Keith said desperately. “I had your contact information in my phone and I meant to send that to someone else and I swear it will never happen again.”


Shiro blinked rapidly several times and then with a bizarre, deep noise poured out two drinks and slammed one back. “Accident,” he said, and slumped back in his chair, completely deflated.




What kind of reaction was that?


(The kind of reaction that means you aren’t getting fired, that’s what!)


Shiro nudged the other glass slightly and Keith sat down and gratefully accepted the drink. Fuck did it ever have a kick.


“Good stuff,” he coughed.


“Well I don’t keep any wine here,” Shiro said vaguely.


Keith nodded, not seeing a connection but understanding that his job appeared to be safe and that, frankly, was all that mattered.


“So, am I not fired?” Keith squeaked.


Shiro roused himself. “Why would you be fired? It was my mistake. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”


“Your mistake…?” Keith said, now fully confused. “How was it your mistake? I’m the one who sent the picture.”


The two men stared at each other over the expanse of Shiro’s giant, wooden desk.


Oh. Oh fuck. Had Shiro thought that…? Was he talking about wine because…?


(Holy shit.)


Nope, nope, nope. There was no way this bulging Sex God wanted anything to do with Keith’s skinny ass. Get your shit together and your mind out of the gutter.


Shiro cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he said, “your job would be safe regardless. Your boss is contracted out through a different branch and I have nothing to do with any firing or hiring for a contractor’s employee.”


“I’m pretty sure sending unsolicited pictures of genitalia is grounds for sexual harassment and trust me, if my boss ever got wind of this, I’d be gone,” Keith said. And why exactly was he making a case for his own dismissal?


Shiro waved his hand as if to brush away the argument. “If I punished everyone who made a mistake with technology, I’d have no employees.”


Keith couldn’t help but laugh. The relief he was feeling was so intense he was practically giddy.


Shiro cleared his throat again. “I’d like to give you the reassurance that I am not going to keep your, um, picture.” He handed Keith a phone worth as much as his yearly rent. “Please, feel free to delete it yourself.”


Holy shit this guy was an angel.


Keith took the phone and was about to delete his text when he frowned and paused. “How did you know it was me?”


Shiro stared back at him, his expression blank and the slightest blush on his cheeks.


“Your secretary asked if you were expecting ‘Keith’,” he persisted.


“I recognized your gloves,” Shiro said faintly. He was definitely blushing. “I swear I haven’t, um, stalked you or something. There’s no way I would know what you would, um, look like…there.”


“Well, you do now,” Keith said, trying to joke and failing spectacularly. He deleted the text and handed back Shiro’s phone.


The two men stared at each other awkwardly (which appeared to be their norm at this point) and Shiro finally broke the silence. “If your boss happens to give you any trouble over this, please direct him to me. There is absolutely no reason your job should be in jeopardy over a simple misunderstanding.”


And there was that word again—“misunderstanding”. As if Shiro was to blame in any way for Keith’s stupidity!


“Seriously, it was all my bad. I just don’t know how to use a phone apparently. Not your fault at all,” Keith insisted, rising to leave.


“Er, no, I meant,” Shiro stammered and swallowed hard. “I meant, because I asked you up here. I’m sorry I misunderstood.”


Oh. Oh holy fucking balls Shiro had wanted to take him up on his “offer”. The emotional whiplash of the last 15 minutes caught up to him and Keith’s legs almost failed in their duties. He grabbed the back of the chair as he swayed. Play it cool dude. Forget about the fact that this man is hella rich and powerful and smoking hot and has his hair slicked back and looks 10/10 in that suit no make that 11/10. 20/10. 50/10. It’s not like you would totally drop to your knees and worship his cock like it was your goddamn salvation. Play. It. Cool.


“Mr. Shirogane?” Keith squeaked. “Can I have a glass of water?”






Well, no surprise, but Shiro had humiliated himself and given Keith a heart attack to boot. The poor kid was currently in Shiro’s private bathroom, washing his face and no doubt nauseous with second-hand embarrassment. Wow. Just wow. Served him right for taking a risk during the Month of Shitty Days.


Keith stepped out of the bathroom, his face flushed and his hair now pulled back in a low ponytail, looking like the epitome of a wet dream. Why was Shiro’s mouth dry? Had the AC suddenly stopped working? Had he seriously just broken out in a cold sweat?


“So,” Keith said, making a valiant attempt at a casual tone, “I’ve shown you mine.”


I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.


Holy fuck.


Slowly, Shiro swiveled his chair a titch and spread his legs over so slightly in a hint of offering. Slowly, Keith stepped forward and knelt before him, hand on his thigh and question in his eyes. Shiro nodded faintly, fairly certain this was how he died and not minding in the least.


Keith’s hand tentatively moved higher before cupping over Shiro’s half-bulge and giving it a little squeeze. Shiro gasped and watched wide-eyed as Keith’s hand went for his button and then his zipper, tugging it down so slowly that Shiro was afraid he would stop. And then—and then!—Keith reached into his briefs and pulled his cock free, now flushed and swollen and almost fully hard. Was he trembling?


“Worth the trouble?” Shiro whispered with a breathless, nervous laugh.


In response, Keith leaned forward and licked the very tip of his head.


Shiro’s hands clutched his armrest and he sucked in his breath. Fuck fuck fuck was this actually happening? Was there actually a gorgeous man kneeling before him and hesitantly asking if this okay because it most certainly was okay. One hand slid into place at the small of his back and another began to pump his base as that perfect tongue was teasing at his head and yes, Shiro was most definitely trembling. Keith’s lips spread around him and Shiro downright whimpered.


(Which was embarrassing.)


(But devastatingly worth it.)


How did Keith manage to look both shy and hungry without turning into a coquette? Shiro could feel the want on Keith’s tongue and the desire in his mouth and when he opened his eyes to look up at him, he was somehow pleading to take more.


“Anything,” Shiro gasped. “Anything you want.”


At that Keith moaned and sucked harder. Fuck if that wasn’t the single most erotic thing that had happened to Shiro in years and what the hell was he even doing with his tongue? Shiro’d had a lot of guys try to impress him over the years by taking him as deep as possible and while there was no denying that was hot, it did not compare to the skillful dance assaulting his head, pulling minute pleasures from all parts of his body and driving him absolutely crazy. He’d never needed to come so badly and he’d never wanted to hold back more.


“Keith,” Shiro panted. “Oh god, that’s amazing.”


And then there was a knock at the door.


Keith hid under the desk so fast that for half a second Shiro thought he’d simply vanished. For his part, Shiro was swiveled back to his desk and pressed as close to it as physically possible before the offending party could so much as poke their head through the door and ask if Shiro had a minute.


(Shiro had never had fewer minutes.)


The culprit was a department manager that Shiro had never realized until that very moment was his least favorite person on the planet. Shiro plastered on his fakest smile and replied that yes, he had a quick minute, but he had a headache and needed to go home soon.


(His head was indeed aching—just a more southern head.)


The department manager apologized and asked a few (totally unnecessary) questions. Shiro discretely snuck his hand under the desk to rearrange himself and, holy fuck, Keith apparently thought that was a request because a mouth descended on him and the department manager asked with concern if Shiro didn’t need to go lie down.


“I’ll be fine in a minute,” Shiro gasped. “What was your question?”


The question was repeated and Shiro gave as short an answer as possible before wincing hard and the manager nearly insisted on walking Shiro to his office couch. Luckily, Shiro was able to wave him off and promised to discuss the issues more tomorrow and—thank god—the manager left, shutting the door behind him.


(If anyone was getting fired due to the events of the evening, it would be that man.)


Keith immediately sucked him down hard, moaning around his cock and Shiro clutched helplessly at his desk.


“Oh god Keith that’s—nngh—that’s incredible that’s so good so good,” Shiro babbled. His toes were actually curling in his shoes and he was shaking and he could barely keep his hips from thrusting and he—


Shiro came hard, biting his hand to stay silent lest a concerned coworker come to investigate and, by the time he could stop panting, Keith had tucked him away and gently pushed back his chair so he could crawl out from his impromptu hiding spot.


“That was—wow,” Shiro said, still trembling from aftershocks. “D-do you want me to get you?” Please? When my heart starts beating again?


“I, um, kinda got myself…and the carpet. Sorry,” Keith said sheepishly.


“Don’t worry about it,” Shiro said blandly. “I have never cared about carpets less.”


The two men stared at each other and burst out laughing.


“Oh my god, that is the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” Keith said, hugging his sides and nearly crying. “Holy shit this evening has been insane. I think I lost ten years off my life.”


“Me too,” Shiro said, wiping his eyes. “Here, let me help you up.”


Keith went to clean himself off in the bathroom while Shiro used some tissues to clean up the carpet as best he could. When Keith came back in the room, he was doing something with his phone. Shiro’s stomach dropped. Was Keith deleting his number? That was a blow to his ego (among other things).


“There,” Keith said. “No more ‘Hot Bar Guy’. Won’t be making that mistake again.”


“‘Hot Bar Guy’?” Shiro asked. “What was I saved under?”


Keith colored red. “‘Hot Boss’.”


And the ego is back!


There were a lot of things Shiro wanted to ask at this point—like if Keith was keeping his number and if he was keeping the name or if he planned on making the same “mistake” anytime soon and when that might be so Shiro could be sure to have wine on hand. He settled on asking Keith if he had plans for dinner. Turns out he did.


With Shiro.


Not such a shit day after all.