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Bobby settles at his desk, still dressed in his suit, still professional, still the agent he is most days. He unlocks his computer. Maneuvers through no less than seven thick layers of security to get to the case. Pours himself a crisp glass of water and clicks the live feed.

He’s immediately treated to the tilted sight of newly knighted agent Eddie Diaz, a flush disappearing down the collar of his dress shirt as his chest heaves, his eyes half-lidded and dark. The long line of his chest is on display, enhanced by the agency’s impeccable tailoring. His cufflinks shine as he lifts a hand to trace the shape of Buck’s glasses. “When do you think he’ll join in?” His hand trembles. His brow glistens with sweat.

Bobby chuckles. “About now.”

Eddie shouldn’t be able to hear him. Probably can’t, but his back arches, his mouth dropping open, and the view shifts to sweat slick skin as he grips Buck’s head closer, rutting into his mouth.

It’s not surprising. Buck always did react well to Bobby’s voice.

The feed tilts again, and the movement is followed by a familiar ragged breath. Eddie’s cock is still hard, still twitching where it lies in the v of his open slacks. A thin string of drool and cum hangs from the tip. Bobby gets a brief look before Buck dives back in to coax him through the last few jerks.

“Buck,” Eddie says hoarsely.

As Buck pulls back, Bobby’s office is filled with the soft whisper of his breath. “He’s watching.” He sounds just as hoarse, just as wrecked.

“Tell him to put his glasses on.” Bobby takes a sip of his water. The chill is welcome in his parched throat.

“Yeah,” Buck breathes out. “I mean, yes, sir.” It’s teasing, fond.

Loving, which Bobby knows. He merely shakes his head as Buck passes the message on.

Another feed pops up on the screen. Buck, lips swollen and cheeks cherry red, grins at him from the floor of the safe house — from his place between Eddie’s legs. Unlike Eddie, his tie is loose and his top three buttons unbuttoned. He looks less the professional spy and more the kept boy.

Bobby’s kept boy. Oh, he earned his place in the organization with his skills and determination. Buck is fully qualified and shows that off almost every single mission he’s sent out on, but it’s no secret that he and Bobby are a thing and have been since shortly after he was knighted.

“Good boy,” Bobby murmurs, partly to see Buck shiver and partly because it’s deserved.

Swallowing, Buck’s hand lands on his own thigh. His cock visibly strains against the fly of his slacks. “Sir, can I?”

It’s tempting. The way Eddie’s pupils dilate at first word doesn’t help. Still, Buck knows to wait, so — “No,” Bobby says calmly and evenly. “Eddie, how are you doing?”

There’s a few seconds of silence, of Eddie’s feed unwaveringly centered on the needy man at his feet. “Good — I’m good. Sir?”

Bobby smiles. Maybe after they’re back home, he’ll invite Eddie over for dinner. Something tells him he’ll fit right in. “Keep him on edge until you’re ready.”

Buck’s eyes flutter shut as he bites his swollen lip, a low groan escaping him. He forces himself to remove his hand, and the very action looks pained. His expression, however, is tinged with anticipation.

Given his orders, Eddie doesn’t hesitate. He grasps the knot of Buck’s tie and guides him to his feet. He backs him onto the bed.

Buck’s knees buckle against the edge of the mattress.

The tie hits the floor.

Bobby takes another sip of water as he watches tanned fingers slip the remaining buttons of Buck’s dress shirt free of their confines. He downs it when Eddie molds his hand against Buck’s straining cock over his slacks. The glass makes a clunk against his desk. The metallic sound of his zipper is lost in the whine that builds over the feed. His hand is still cold from the water, and he clenches his jaw, hips twitching and cock softening a touch. Not that it’ll stay like that for long.

On one side of the screen, Eddie smirks and disappears. Buck gasps. On the other, Buck’s neck obstructs the view. It’s already red, a line of hickies already forming.

Although Bobby can’t exactly see much right now, the sounds he’s hearing have him filling out in his hand, the chill fading, his strokes slow and steady. “Report,” he orders.

Eddie shifts, and the bob of Buck’s adam’s apple is visible on his feed.

“He’s — Eddie’s jerking me off.” Buck squirms. The view wiggles.

Bobby hums. “Slow? Or fast?” He swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, smearing precum over the crown.

“Slow,” Buck breathes out.

It must be agonizingly slow if Buck is still this coherent. Bobby knows for a fact Buck would have been aching to be touched while at Eddie’s feet. “Why don’t you speed things up, Eddie?”

There’s a sound of acceptance before Buck’s face is back on the screen, blotchy with desperation. The feed dips low enough to catch the sight of his throbbing cock wrapped in Eddie’s fist. The first few strokes are slow, probably the same speed as before, slick with nothing other than spit. Eddie lets go of him just long enough to whip out a small bottle of lube from the bedside table, and then he’s back at it, the schlick of his hand over Buck almost drowned out by the sharp cry it pulls out of him. Eddie doesn’t hold back.

Nor does he look back up. Not at first. The other side of the screen captures the intensity of his concentration.

Bobby finds himself treated to the familiar tremble of Buck’s thighs, the visual of his cock being engulfed by a calloused hand over and over and over again. “Good,” he chokes out. “Thanks, Eddie. Perfect, sweetheart.”

Then Eddie tilts his head to watch Buck. His glasses are angled to show off the wet sheen of Buck’s eyes beneath his own frames, the way his mouth hangs open as he sucks in breath after breath, how swollen his lips are.

The moment he cums.

Bobby’s hand still when it happens, applying light pressure to the base of his cock, because he wants this to last. He can feel himself ache in time with each spurt, with each moan and gasp.

“Do you need a minute?” Eddie’s voice is a whisper. It’s meant for Buck, obviously.

(Bobby’s heart warms at the concern there.)

But Buck shakes his head. “Fuck me.” The corners of his mouth curl. “Sir.”

It’s obviously taking quite a lot of restraint to stay still, and yet Eddie does it. “Can I?”

“Go ahead,” Bobby says immediately. “You’ve earned it — both of you.”

Eddie groans, practically throwing himself on top of Buck, who holds onto him eagerly despite his slick, spent cock and the mess against his stomach.

The soft sounds of lips meeting and bodies gliding against each other fill Bobby’s office. He’s almost resigned to not seeing much else, but —

With a grunt, the feeds roll, jerk and shift until both Eddie and Buck are front and center.

“Permission to continue?” Buck’s chest heaves with the effort of flipping them. His fly is still undone, his cock still shiny with lube.

Bobby glances over at the other feed, and his smile widens at what he sees.

Eddie’s pupils are blown wide. He’s watching Buck just as intently as Bobby is. He wants this just as much, too.

“Permission granted.”

Rising to his knees, Buck hooks his thumbs in the waist of his slacks and eases them down, rocking back to shuck them entirely, leaving his shirt where it is. It takes less than a minute for him to get back on Eddie’s lap. The touch of his bare skin against slacks and a hard dick makes the both of them groan.

Through Eddie’s glasses, Bobby can see the twitch of Buck’s cock as it tries to rise, but it’s too soon. The muscles in his thighs tighten as he lifts up and reaches back. His fingers dip into his hole.

He’s obviously already fingered himself, possibly with Eddie deep in his throat.

Buck adds another finger. His eyes slide shut.

“Don’t tease him,” Bobby admonishes.

A guilty flush spreads across Buck’s cheeks, down into his collar. He reaches for Eddie and angles him without any fuss. The line of his throat is long as he sinks down.

The visual is accompanied by a ragged groan. Eddie clutches at his hips, his fingers digging into skin, dimpling it. “I - I, fuck.”

Bobby hums. He’s familiar with the sentiment. Buck is tight for all that he loves this, and it always takes his breath away. “Take care of him, sweetheart.”

With a shaky salute, Buck gets on it. He rests a hand on Eddie’s chest, palm flat and fingers spread. He bites his lip. He rocks his hips. Between them, his cock begins to swell again.

“Sit up,” Bobby tells him. He starts stroking himself again. Slow, light. Just enough to feel the warmth build.

Buck sits up straight. Without resting on Eddie, every rise and fall of his hips is an effort that shows in the tautness of his abdomen and thighs. His hands settle on his own pecs, thumbs brushing his nipples in the gape of his shirt. “Eddie, fuck.”

“He feels so good, sir,” Eddie breathes. “So fucking good for me.”

The sound Buck makes can best be described as wounded. He screws his eyes shut for a moment, swallows thickly.

Bobby chuckles. “He always is.” He doesn’t bother holding back the affection in his voice.

Praise makes Buck work even harder, so, despite the sweat building on his brow, he ups the pace. Focus takes over his expression. His cock, now flushed and needy once more, bobs as he lifts, as he slams himself down onto Eddie over and over again.

Again.

And again.

And then his back arches, his upper body curling over Eddie, his hands scrabbling at the sheets on either side of him while he rides out his orgasm. A spurt of come hits his chin. Something agonizingly satisfied slips past his lips. His glasses slip just a touch.

“Good boy,” Bobby groans, stripping his cock until he joins him. He regrets that he isn’t there to lick him clean.

With a firm hold on Buck’s hips, Eddie chases his own release with short, brutal snaps. Sweat drips down past his temples to disappear into his hair. When he does come, his feet are planted flat on the bed, his fingers white with the desperate clench of his hands. “Buck!”

It’s a beautiful sight. Bobby takes a deep breath and tucks himself away. “Your flight home is in a few hours. I’ll be waiting for you both after you report.”

There’s something yearning in Eddie’s eyes, buried under what little professionalism he can manage post second orgasm. He nods.

“Love you, Bobby,” is all Buck says in response.

Bobby smiles. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”