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It was always meant to be strictly professional, that's what you told yourself.
You bail a guy out of troll prison under the guise of him becoming your assistant cause he ‘seems pretty smart.’ That, of course, wasn't the only reason deep down. You thought they'd done some kind of photoshopping on those news articles but he somehow managed to be more attractive in person. Sure he’d looked pretty disheveled despite the claims of Beforus being so just and.. ‘humane’ (if you could even say that, I mean they aren't human at all), but his hair laid so nicely on his face, slightly overgrown bangs letting the bright red of his sclera pop through. His particularly sharp overbite wasn't usually something he looked for in a partner, but this felt more charming to you somehow. He had a decent amount of fat on him for someone who was in jail for god knows how long before you snatched the poor guy and took him back to your apartment (no sexual strings attached, by the way. You're sleazy on occasion but not THAT bad.) and the extra mass he gained from actually eating meant all of the expensive outfits you bought him were, totally not purposefully, just a little tighter on him than planned. The way those pencil skirts you bought him practically hugged his thighs made you hot under the collar, but a Strider never loses his cool from things like that. Not the stockings, or the especially open collar dress shirt under his blazer, none of that. You like to maintain a purely business partnership with your employees, especially if they work so closely with you. And he's such a loudmouth you doubt he could keep it a secret for too long, he could talk for hours without running out of breath it seems, his natural speaking volume seemed more like an outside voice even indoors. Sometimes your mind would wander thinking of how loud he’d be in bed with you, but of course you'd never entertain that train of thought for too long. Totally.
It was a long shoot today, you'd been up since five in the morning and it's just now dusk. Your assistant is on the phone with a potential business partner right now, sitting oh-so pretty next to you at your desk. You can barely pay attention to what he's saying, just focusing on his lips as he goes on and on about who knows what. “Mr. Strider..” he insisted on being so formal with how he addresses you, you found it kind of cute. “Sir.” Your eyes are just trailing down his body, he's got his coat off, letting you take in all of the curves underneath. Sitting with his legs crossed, looking so professional. “Dave.” You snap out of whatever trance he had you in, thank god you wear shades. “Whatever bullshit’s on your mind is gonna have to take a pause, client said he wants to meet as soon as possible tomorrow to talk about budgeting your next movie.” You simply give a nod in response. “Is tomorrow at nine good or are you going to get pissy with me if I wake you up ‘soooo early’ on a weekend?” “Nines good.” Your seeming disinterest was written all over your constantly stoic face. “I’ll ignore how empty inside you sound and email them with the meeting details, then.” He rolled his eyes, you could always tell where he was looking even with the lack of pupils to indicate it. “Is something wrong? Aside from everything already wrong with you.” You hear a quiet snicker after the last comment. “Everything's good, just tired.” And pent up, but you weren't going to admit that to your employee. He seemed to ponder for a moment. “Do you need to rest on me or something?” His tone sounded like a joke, but you swear you can see a little bit of red flush on his face. Without a word, you pull his rolling chair up closer to you and lay your head down on his left shoulder. “This good?” You stifle a laugh as you feel him heat up a little at the contact. “..It's fine.” is all he says as he continues tapping away at the keys on your laptop. There was something intoxicating about his scent, cherry with some floral notes, you had bought him cologne a week or two after you bailed him out as a gift. You smile thinking about how he's actually used it.
You try to adjust yourself to feel a little more comfortable, arching yourself over his shoulder is nice, but your back hurts. Reaching for the armrests on the chair you graze his arm, you can hear his breath hitch. “Sorry, didn't mean to startle you.” You say as you cozy up closer to his neck. “You know this is quite unprofessional, Mr. Strider.” he says, quieter than usual. “D’you want me to back off?” “..Not necessarily. I’m only letting you know.” He quickly replied back. It seems to you that he's fine with it, so you decide to inch closer, resting your body on the back of his seat. “..How about now?” “Still fine.” You could hear the nervousness in his voice. “You doin’ okay? Your face is pretty warm right now.” Teasing him is always so much fun, sometimes he’ll make little noises in response before he responds back. This time was different, though. He looked at you for a split second and silently went back to work. You could really see the red on his cheeks this time. The Strider charm never fails. “You've certainly made yourself comfortable.” He finally says. “You’re not complaining, though.” You retort, smiling into the crook of his neck. It's warm and soft and you wish you could stay nuzzled in there for the rest of your life. You think you can almost hear a low purring sound coming from his throat, it's probably nothing, though.
It took you a slightly embarrassing amount of time to realize he’d stopped typing, just sitting there, breathing intentionally slower but heart beating faster than a racehorse can run. Metaphorically, of course (do trolls even have hearts?) The true anatomy of your newly found coworker never really crossed your mind, you sort of just thought he had the same bits as humans do, stupid as that is. Your previous thoughts were interrupted by the man swiveling in his chair, alerting you that it might be time to head out now. “It’d be better for your back if you went to sleep in your own bed, sir.” You sit back up in your chair, slightly nodding in agreement as you feel the pain rise sharply through your body. “Yeah, yeah. We can go now if that's what you're askin’ me.” As you begin to stand, you notice he's not moving from his seat. “You alright there, Vantas? Didn't break you, did I?” You chuckle as he tensed a little. “I still have work to do, Strider.” The tone made you shiver a tad. “And you were incredibly distracting, you know. You love to just play around in your office doing whatever you please while I send out words upon words on this stupid laptop. You're so annoying, you know that? Honestly, I don't know how your other employees deal with you-” “I was distracting you..?” He choked on his next word. “Look, I know I’m handsome, but don't let me distract you from your paycheck.” You smirked as he flushed once again. “Here we go again with the assumptions! Yeah yeah, whatever, you're hot shit. Go sit somewhere else while I work on these emails.” The realization hit him just as it hit you. ‘hot shit', huh? Maybe you do have a shot. “You're being so forward with me tonight, Karkat.” You lean on your desk trying to hide the fact your heart is close to ripping right through your gaudy jacket. “I like that in a person, y’know. Honesty is important to me.” He's squirming in his seat, skin seeming as red as his eyes now. “The way you're talking almost makes it seem like you're into me, though. Am I reading that right?”
You almost stumbled and fell right onto him as he yanked you by the tie down to his level, a messy kiss hitting your lips. His teeth get in the way a little bit, you expected that though with how many times you've thought about doing this with him. You were totally lying to yourself when you said that bringing him here to work with you was completely innocent. He lets up as quickly as he started it, staring you down with a look that seemed so sharp it could kill you with a single poke. “I really hate you.” He says, breathing heavy. “But I hate how much I want you even more, you're such a fucking freak. Screw professionalism at this point, I can't think straight right now anyway.” Something inside you broke, any and all self preservation or impulse control suddenly left your body. You roughly pick him up and shove him onto your desk, shits flying everywhere but you could care less right now. You start kissing him this time, savoring the flavor of his lips. It's sweet and tart and it's making you dizzy as you keep him perched up on the table. He's grabbing on your back like he's about to fall off a cliff and each grip sends sparks flying through you. Fuck, you should've done this so much sooner. “You're so so pretty,” You say in between kisses, “Prettiest thing I’ve laid my eyes on,” You're slowly making your way down his body, “Wanted you for so long. So fucking long, Karkat” He's been making little noises and whimpers that shoot right to your groin, fuck he's hot. Pushing aside strands of his long hair, you start planting kisses on his neck, trying to find a sweet spot to suck on. “Fuck-” a low moan shoots from his mouth. Found it. “Strider- shit” You're making sure you leave a mark. “Keep makin’ those noises for me. Please.” You're moving to other spots, leaving light bites and bruises in a trail to his collarbone. “People are gonna think you're beating me or something.” His breathy laugh makes you feel warm in your face, more than it already was. “They need to know you're mine.” A little whine escapes his mouth. He's so cute. “Can I go further?” “In.. in here?” You laugh. “Can't wait long enough to get you home.” The dumb smile on your face is definitely killing any previous attempt at being ‘stoic and nonchalant’, you'll curse yourself for it later. “Fine. Take your shades off though, you look like an idiot.”
He's even prettier without that dark red tint from your shades, though that should be obvious. You're watching him fiddle with the buttons on his shirt and he's biting his bottom lip a little bit, you wonder what his teeth would feel like biting on your skin, maybe you could find out tonight. The pain would tell you if you're dreaming or not, with how dim the lights are in here and how ethereal he looks you're gonna have to pinch yourself at least fifteen times before you can believe it's real. “You're staring.” His voice, softer than usual, snaps you out of your trance once more. “Sorry, ‘just love looking at you.” You start helping him with the buttons on this cursed shirt, any longer you might've ripped it off of him. Your better judgement tells you not to, it was fucking expensive. “So perfect, y’know that?” He gives you a confused look. “You are.” You undo the final button, slipping the shirt off his shoulders. “So handsome. So smart, too, I can't wait to ruin you.” You start trailing your hands down his body, his tits are about average for his size (no nipples though?), there's various scars and some bright red protruding lines on his sides. He's shivering under your touch, how many times has he been touched like this? Do trolls have sex the way humans do? A high pitched moan escapes his lips as you rub on one of the red.. things. “What are these? They're so.. oddly squishy.” You're just lightly pressing on them now, the smoothness of them is fascinating. “Grub- fuck- grub scars. Sensitive. Please-” Another moan echoes through the room as you press down harder on one of them, grabbing for your wrist and almost crushing it. “Okay okay, I’ll stop it. Ow, strong ass grip.” Pulling away your hands from the scars you settle for gripping the table for now, kissing the non-bright red and protruding scars along his body. Those sounds are gonna get you off before you can even stick your dick in him. Whines and moans and more than just occasional swears under his breath, you swore you heard him mumble your name once or twice already. Reaching the waistband of his skirt you tug at it, looking up for approval. If there's one thing your Bro never taught you, it's that consent is important, and you tend to do the opposite of anything he did. “We good to keep goin’?” “Please.”
The weird, writhing tentacle in his panties should really be a turnoff, but it's shockingly the opposite. Thank god you've mostly been buying him black underwear, cause he is soaking through them. “..Sorry if this isn't what you were expecting.” The nervous expression on his face tugs at your heart a little, there's clearly been some insecurity welling up inside him since the shirt came off. “Not what I expected, but it's not an unwelcome surprise. Kinda hot, actually. I should invest in troll pornos, honestly. I’d ask to hire you but no one else gets to see your body. No one. I’ll fuck em’ up if someone tries getting a peek-” “You're so annoying.” He laughed again, you think you see a smile forming upon his face, but he is looking away and you are right between his thighs right now. You kinda hope he closes his legs and crushes your head like those people who are definitely wrestlers in their free time do with watermelons. A just way to die. “Are you lost in thought again or is this your way of saying you're grossed out beyond words and you don't want to do this anymore?” “Oh god no I’m not stopping unless you tell me to. I can go all night.” You start kissing and nipping his inner thighs, and any nerves he had visibly faded away. “YOU have a meeting tomorrow.” “They can wait until I’m done with you. Or you could just cockwarm me during it, I’m down for whatever.” That last bit earned you a whine, something you will be keeping in mind for later. You start pulling off his underwear, the aforementioned tentacle is twitching and leaking a little onto the desk. You might need a towel, and a dry cleaner (How do you explain that your clothes were stained by interspecies banging?) but you continue on. The rest of his genitalia is less foreign than expected after the first surprise you got. The.. you're just gonna call it a dick, comes out around the area a clit would be, and he has a.. pussy? underneath it that you really want to start fucking as soon as possible. The bright red liquid seems to just be self-lubrication. You’re not really sure if there's anything else down there, and given this is the first time it's probably better to not explore too much. Looking up you see he's looking away, covering his face with one hand and propping himself up with the other. “C’mon, I wanna see your beautiful face.” He audibly groans at you. “Please?” He slowly puts his other hand back down on the table, still not looking you quite in the eye. “Mm, good boy.” You say as you bite down on his left thigh, making sure you leave a bruise this time in particular. That earned you a sweet yelp in response. You really can't tell if you're dreaming right now, and part of you hopes it is and that you'll never wake up from it. “If you wanna continue taking it slow that's completely fine by me, but if I don't free my dick from my pants soon I think I might break the button and the zipper. Please have mercy on me, you sweet angel.” You plead while staring up at his lidded eyes, he looks blissed out already. ‘Mmhm’ and an enthusiastic nod is all you really get from him, and you think it's the best you can get right now. Maybe you'll make him beg another time.
“You ready?” You really hope he is because you've been too damn close to busting for the last half an hour. One hand is lining up your dick to his hole and the other is holding his torso, thumb placed right between two of the 3 grub scars. “I think so.” You start pushing in. “Well the- oh fuck- the goal is to have you not thinkin’ by the end of this.” He’s warm and tight and soft around you, you wish you could stay in him for the rest of your life right now. You hear incoherent babbling in your ear as you bottom out, you're by no means huge but you suppose a little above average size is enough to fill him up, the girth making up for anything in length you're lacking. You're fighting the strong urge to start fucking into him, letting him adjust to having it in first. You're so thankful for his wet troll pussy right now because you're not the type to store lube in a drawer in your office. You have some dignity left, even if you fuck a lot. Not a single person compares to this man in front of you, though. Despite your better judgement you've fallen hard for him, and gotten hard for him. A lot. “You can” his breath hitches, “move now..” You start out slow, drawing halfway out then moving back in. You're trying to reach a rhythm, which is difficult when he feels so damn good and his pretty little moans are very distracting. And those bites and hickeys you left on him are starting to show really well on his dark grey skin, the idea of tomorrows aftermath shoots you in the dick. He's shaking beneath you, his legs wrapped around your waist like he's making sure you won’t change your mind and leave. You start moving a little faster, the sloppy wet sounds coming from his hole are filthy and wrong but it all feels so right in the end. He feels right, like some all powerful being out there thought it right for him to be right here with you. Your really hot guardian angel, even though his appearance is a bit devilish, the horns really selling the vibe. You reach up and rub on one of them, earning a whine and a few cusses. “You like that?” He nods furiously, his nails digging into your back. “You’re taking me so- so good. You feel amazing wrapped around my cock. You were made for it, made for me. I’m never letting you go.” You've lost the ability to separately think and talk, just saying everything that pops into your mind while the pace keeps quickening. “I wanted you for so long,” he tightens at that, a moan spills from your babbling mouth, “so fucking long. Saw you and wanted to keep you all for myself. You've been so good for me, so perfect.” You hit deeper this time, seems like you found the spot. “OH Fuck- Dave holy shit oh my gog-” You just about pull out completely. “Say my name again, just like that.” “DaAVE” You push right back in as he says it, and he's definitely seeing stars right now. You're kissing him anywhere your mouth can reach, trying to shut yourself up from stammering on about his perfection. “Dave I’m close- I’m close please oh my gog-” You start working his dick while you slam in and out of him. “Fuck- cum with me Karkat. I need you so bad. I love you, so so much-” He uses his legs to pull you all the way in, just barely hitting you mouth with his. There's a warm, gooey liquid shooting onto your hands and your shirt (you’re going to have to throw away these clothes), and you're rutting into him, pumping as much of your load as you can into his definitely sore hole.
You've been holding him in your arms, breath heavy and the room hot with want. Not lustful this time, something rawer than that. You've wanted him for so long, loved him. Something about him felt so familiar to you when you saw him in person, it drew you to him. A single star in the abyssal sky. Damn, you're waxing poetic tonight. The muse of your poetry shakily lowers his legs so you can escape his grasp, part of you never wants to leave it, though. “Oh shit. You got everywhere.” You laugh as he looks down grossly at the pool of glossy red around him. “Sorry.. I can go clean up-” “Stay. I can do it, I don't know if you can even stand right now.” That last part was just praising yourself for a fuck well done. “Haha. Funny, can you at least put me in a chair?” You pick him up and set him in your much comfier office chair, some of your cum leaking out along the way. You wish you could fuck it back into him right now, but you're both tired. He especially seems exhausted, almost dozing off after you sat him gently in your chair. Adorable. Upon completing that objective you set out to the bathroom connected to your office. You keep a change of clothes in here somewhere, though you never expected it to be used for something like this. Getting un and redressed you grab a towel and wet it with warm water. You've heard people do this as aftercare whenever a session is particularly messy, why not try it? You can draw him a bath when you two get home if he wants. Walking back into the other room he's already put his shirt halfway back on. “Do you want to clean your thighs up or should I?” “Well if you're offering I don't think I could refuse, Mr. Strider.” He laughs as you walk over to him and kneel down. “I just came in you, don't ‘Mr. Strider’ me, Kar.” You joke as you softly wipe his legs. “Apologies, sir.” He's cracking himself up, it's cute. You admire all the marks you've left on him as you clean up, you don't usually get so possessive during sex. He seems to bring that kind of thing out of you, the clinginess, the doting, the loving. Once everything seems cleaned enough for the night (the smell of sex and fruit will haunt this room for at least a week) it seems about right to head home. Lucky you drove to work yourself today.
You had to carry him to the car. 100 points go to Strider for a great fucking. Driving back you have the radio faintly on, low enough for potential conversation and high enough to fill the silence, and it seems he chose conversation tonight. “Did.. you mean it?” You glance in his direction. “Mean what?” “That you love me?” So this is where you're cursing yourself for dropping the act. “It's fine if it was just heat of the moment rambling, I don't really expect you to love someone like me-” “I meant it.” He stares at you, dumbfounded. “It's weird to say since I’m your boss and all, but, I do. I love you a whole fucking lot.” You look back at him. “Do you.. love me?” The worst, or maybe best, time for a red light. “You don't have to answer or anything, or say you do if you don't mean it. This is.. really weird, honestly. Very unprofessional, please don't sue me-” “I love you too.” Silence. “Sorry. That's.. that's so weird. I’m so weird. I’m sorry-” You plant a soft kiss on his mouth, it's tender and loving this time. He melts into it, holding your cheek and rubbing it with his thumb. You're in that state for long enough that the light turns green, a very angry driver behind you honking while you're macking on in the front seat. Makeout sesh will have to continue at home, you suppose.