Chapter Text
It’s a risk when he brings his buck fizz to his lips and asks from behind it, “you want to get out of here?” Theon knows that. But it wouldn’t be nearly so fun if it weren’t.
In the corner of Theon’s eye, while he pretends to be listening to what Theon assumes is supposed to be a rousing speech given by Melissandre, Robb scratches the stubble on his cheek with his index finger, the opposite arm crosses his body to hold his elbow. He almost looks like he’s taking an interest.
Theon takes a sip, hoping he comes across as self-assured, all the while dreading a rejection. He’s done some stupid things in his life. But propositioning a married new colleague at his work’s Christmas do? It’s a new one, even for him.
When Robb inclines his head, no matter how shallow the nod, Theon can’t keep his lips from curling.
He turns to walk round the back of the redhead, trailing his fingers over the small of his back and dipping it briefly into his waistband, just in case there's any uncertainty about the invitation. Weaving through their coworkers, he resists a look back over his shoulder, for three reasons. 1) He hopes it arouses less suspicion. 2) Robb knows very little about him and therefore is likely to have been at least partly drawn in by the confident airs he tries to cultivate. 3) It would be pretty rude of Robb to back out without letting him know. And he can’t do that if Theon can neither see nor hear him now can he?
Sara catches his eye with a scowl when he nears her by the drinks table on the way out. That was one such stupid thing. Not a wise move to hook up with and attempt to ghost one of the admin staff, he’s learned. If there’s anyone who can wreak havoc on your work-life - bar the boss of course - it’s them.
Choosing to continue the charade, he gives her a broad grin and holds up a hand in greeting as he swipes one of the bottles of cava. She rolls her eyes at him when he presses a finger to his lips and winks because people don’t snitch when they feel involved.
Only once he’s walking down the corridor does he glance into the reflections in the glass windows lining it to slyly check he’s being followed.
Robb’s mirror image smiles at him with a flash of white teeth, not fooled but looking a little bashful.
He slows his pace, turns to walk backward, swaggering as best he can, one hand in his pocket, and offering the bottle out by its neck with the other, encouraging Robb to chase him, no matter how slowly.
After checking for someone nearby, Robb slow jogs after him with a laugh, auburn curls bouncing lightly. He doesn’t even look at the door Theon backs him through once he’s caught up, but when he spins to survey the room, he does spot the name on the desk plate. Stannis Baratheon. He struggles to contain and chokes the mouthful of sparkling wine he’s just swigged from the bottle..
With a chuckle, Theon lets the blinds fall on the windows one by one then retrieves a carton of cigarettes from his pocket and offers his new playmate one.
Robb shakes his head. “I don’t,” he says, watching Theon pull himself up to sit on the desk and kick out the leather chair for him to sit on, doesn’t add ‘she’d know.’ His eyes remain fixated while he watches Theon light up, click the lighter shut, and take a drag. Theon wonders if this is something he does often. He’d like to think he was at least a little special, not simply an easy fuck.
Robb only snaps out of it when Theon leans back on his forearm to search their boss’ desk, comes up empty, and tips the pens from a ‘world’s best dad’ mug onto the table to use it as a makeshift ashtray.
Robb let’s out a laugh, somewhere between anxious and one of disbelief, and sits in the chair. He slouches in a way Theon is certain few can pull off, spreading his legs slightly, elbow on the chair arm, head propped up in the hand. Looking up, he smirks. “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”
Theon narrowly avoids the smoke escaping his nostrils as he tries not to snort and turns his head to exhale away from Robb. “Is ‘everyone’ the gossips on the third floor?” When Robb nods, so does Theon. “Mmm, they would.”
“Do you deny it?”
“Well,” Theon shrugs, nonchalant, “I wouldn’t say bad guy.”
“No?” asks Robb with a curious tilt of his head. “What would you say?”
“I’d say they knew what they were getting into.” Unlike your wife, Theon’s mind supplies, safe in the knowledge he’s not the one that’s in the wrong here.
“I see,” Robb looks at him closely, “and why is that?”
Theon pauses. The tip of the fag glows red in the darkness. “Why are you here?”
Amused, Robb pulls his head up off his hand. “Excuse me?” He frowns.
“With me, why are you here with me?”
Pink forms on Robb’s cheeks. “I–... Well, you’re–…” Lips still parted, Robb pauses, knowing Theon will fill in the gaps with standard responses about him being attractive.
The truth of the matter is, they each know exactly what they are getting themselves into here, and that’s the beauty of it. Robb will have heard enough to know he’s not looking for a commitment, far from it. Theon isn’t about to cause any risk to him and his marriage by trying to catch him outside of work hours. He’s just a bit of fun. Maybe he’s an experiment. But Theon could tell him right here and now that he’s not straight, no matter how he dresses. And best of all, he won’t have to deal with any messy aftermath because it goes without saying that this is only sex.
“Ok, let me put it another way…” He flicks ash into the mug. “You’re new here, yes?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve heard I have a reputation, yes?”
Frowning, and no doubt wondering where this is going, Robb agrees again. “Yes…?”
“And when you were introduced to me you…?” Theon smokes as he waits for an answer, or for Robb to think about it at least.
“You tell me.”
“You looked at me with that look in your eyes because you had certain expectations.” One might call the whole thing marketing.
“That’s where you’re wrong. That’s not true.”
Theon arches a brow. “No?”
“No.” Robb shakes his head. “I looked at you like that because the reality exceeded my expectations and I… knew I shouldn’t be looking at you if I wanted to keep my sanity.”
That’s the first warning that things are going to go astray from what he had in mind. The second comes when Robb stands, sending the chair flying back into the wall behind, takes the cigarette from Theon’s hand, stubs it out on the mug, and slides a firm hand up the inside of his thigh to part his legs.
Theon doesn’t know what exactly does it. Whether it's the way his body moves instinctively to facilitate him, the rise of his eyebrows at the surprise at the weight of his presence, or the pent up noise he releases when the hand squeezes the bulge in his trousers. But when Robb places himself between his knees, and looks him in the eye while stroking him he doesn’t half look smug about it.
Robb hesitates at the kiss. Their lips hover millimeters away from each other and Theon thinks perhaps this is as far as they’ll go. His breath falls hot and heavy against Robb while he races to unbuckle his belt.
”Speak to me,” he whispers. “Tell me what you want. Tell me if I should stop.”