Work Text:
She uncrosses and recrosses her legs. The draft for her latest project is on her screen, and she genuinely is excited to work on it, but it’s hard not to look.
Hughie, her newest hire and the only employee directly under her, taps his pursed lips with his pencil. His mouth relaxes into a smile as he lets out a near inaudible a-ha before typing out something on his laptop in a flurry. He’s still holding the pencil.
Becca has never seen him actually use the pencil.
He sticks it in his mouth, latching onto the length of wood with his teeth. Clearly he’s hit his stride in his work, because the words are spilling out from his fingers.
She pulls her gaze away forcefully. The next movie in the Vought Cinematic Universe is releasing next month, and she needs to get these posts formulated sooner rather than later.
Sometimes it’s not a pencil.
The plastic cup is emblazoned with the name of the coffee stand down in the lobby. The drink inside is a milky brown, ice cubes pressing up against the sides, a dollop of whipped cream flattened by the lid. A clear straw sticks out of the top. Hughie wraps his lips around it as he taps away on his phone with one hand. He grins and snickers without letting it go.
Becca stifles a groan. She’s not sure what’s causing her jealousy. Is she jealous of Hughie for having an iced coffee when hers has been empty for the better part of an hour now? Or maybe she’s jealous of him for having the time to grab a coffee. Her distractions mean she’s behind on this project, and so she got to work almost two hours earlier than usual this morning.
(Really, she’s jealous of his straw. She knows this. She just refuses to acknowledge it.)
Whatever it is, it’s distracting.
There are a few other things she can imagine his lips wrapped around — and none of them are at all professional. And yet she can’t help herself. Her fingers, thin and manicured, tracing the shape of his lips, his tongue curling around the tips, is the first to come to mind. She’s usually good at keeping her thoughts out of the bedroom during the work day, or at least she used to be before hiring him.
It doesn’t help that Hughie finds her attractive, too. He’s subtle, of course. He’s subtle and professional and unfailingly good at what he does despite the way his gaze sometimes lingers. Even then he can’t disguise all the signs. There’s a flush on his cheeks when she catches him looking. He fumbles sometimes when she’s close. There’s always an underlying sense of respect, however, which sticks in her mind.
The absolute worst, however, is the day he comes into the office with a goddamn lollipop.
Which is also the day Billy visits her at work. He rarely does. More often than not, he’s happy to let her space be her own, but it’s also not often she finds herself attracted to someone new, either. He knows, because of course he does. There are times Billy seems to know her better than herself. He comes by with lunch, a curious glint in his eye.
The thing is, she knows him just as well. Becca can see the very moment Billy understands. She watches his gaze darken, his lips curl up, his everything focus in on one thing and one thing only — the way Hughie sucks on the bright red candy. It stains his lips. The paper stick is already starting to peel, wet with spit. It’s only a moment, a split second of focus other people might not have noticed, and then Billy’s at her side pulling her into a searing kiss.
The best thing is that Hughie is distracted for the rest of the day.
Becca is careful. She doesn’t want to scare him off, and it’s likely flirting with him the way she wants to would do that, especially now that he’s met her husband. She just… stands a little closer when she has the opportunity. She’s more generous with her praise — which is well deserved, anyway. She pats his shoulder, touches his arm, gives him a high five.
Hughie thrives under it. He jokes and laughs and smiles and maybe he looks at her a little more, too.
And he accepts her invitation to drinks after the higher ups grant them a bonus for their work on A-Train’s social media. It’s not without some blushing, but there’s a certain hesitant understanding on his face that thrills her.
They meet at a relatively nice bar.
Wearing a tight black dress, Becca gets there first with Billy on her arm. He let her pick his clothes, a dress shirt his arms barely fit in and a pair of slacks, heat simmering between them at the possibilities the night could bring, because even if they leave without Hughie, the both of them are already on edge, already hyped up in a way that usually leads to fantastic sex.
It’s just about on time when Hughie arrives. He’s not wearing anything particularly fancy, but he did change after work. He glances between them and smiles shyly. “Did you order yet?”
“Not yet,” Becca says and gestures at Billy. “You remember my husband, Billy.”
Billy is not as subtle. The smirk on his face widens as he looks him over. “Nice to see you again, lad.”
“You, too.” Hughie nods a little quickly, and he opens his mouth to say something else, but the bartender is there asking for their drinks.
When Hughie brings the long neck of his beer up to his lips, Billy grips her thigh so hard she’s bound to bruise.
Becca grins into her rum and coke.
Hughie excuses himself to the bathroom after finishing the last dregs of his second beer, and he’s only gone a moment before Billy is, too, his hand trailing along her thigh as he moves.
The bathroom is empty save for Hughie. He splashes some water on his face, a few drops clinging to his curls, and stares at himself in the mirror.
“I don’t really see the point in dancing around it,” Billy says in lieu of a greeting. He walks up behind him and drapes an arm over his shoulders. Together, they look at their reflections.
“It?”
Billy snorts. “Come now, you’re not that oblivious. You want to fuck my wife.”
Underneath his arm, Hughie tenses.
“You want to fuck me,” Billy continues. He holds him in place just firmly enough to encourage him to stay and hear him out.
It’s pretty telling that Hughie doesn’t try to pull away.
Billy turns his head and takes his earlobe between his teeth. He grins and lets go when he feels him shiver. “The feeling’s mutual, Hughie. The missus and I want you to come home with us tonight. Just think about it.” The door swings shut behind him.
Hughie takes a deep breath. He knows what he wants to say. He knows what he should say, as Becca’s employee. He knows how nervous he is at the very thought of saying what he does want.
The beer bottle clunks against the bar. It’s empty, only a little foam and a few dribbles of alcohol left in it. Hughie clears his throat awkwardly. “I think I’m done for the night.”
They hit a groove somewhere along the second drink, a camaraderie that felt more like what he and Becca had going at the office, and she thought it was going well. The idea of cutting the night short is disappointing. Still, she smiles, not letting a single smidge of that show on her face. “Do you need a cab?”
Billy’s quiet, contemplative beside her.
Hughie bites his lip. “Actually, I was hoping I’d go home with you guys.”
“Of course you can,” she says much more calmly than she actually feels. Setting her drink down, Becca flags the bartender to settle the check, uncaring of the fact that her rum and coke is only half empty.
She takes the initiative in the car. She puts a hand on his jaw and turns his face, leaning up to kiss him slowly. It’s an exploration. A tentative step.
He melts into it and pulls her closer. He’s just as careful, just as unsure of how to handle her yet. Though he clearly has done this before, he lets her take the lead and show him what she wants.
And fuck if that isn’t giving her ideas.
When Billy gets a chance to kiss him, he herds him up against the wall and settles his hands low on Hughie’s hips as he presses their lips together.
Becca idly kicks her shoes off as she watches Hughie clutch at him. She knows she wants him in her bed, between her thighs, underneath her, his face buried in her cunt — whichever way she can get him, honestly. But first she wants him at Billy’s feet. The thought hits her like a sledgehammer, her breath hitching.
She needs to watch him suck her husband’s cock. The words slip from her mouth without her permission.
They break apart to look at her. Hughie’s mouth is parted, and his eyes are wide, startled but considering.
“What do you think?” Billy thumbs at his bottom lip. “Should we give her a show?”
“I’ve thought about it,” Hughie says honestly.
So has Becca — about his lips wrapped around Billy’s cock, his tongue lapping at the slit, that look of contentedness that always settles on his face when he’s got something in his mouth.
Billy groans and yanks him into another kiss before plopping down onto the couch. “Come on over.” He spreads his legs, the fly of his slacks straining.
The way Hughie drops to his knees between them is exhilarating.
Becca walks on shaky legs to join them and curls up next to her husband. She meets Hughie’s eyes, and the sheer anticipation there has her shifting. “Go on,” she says. “Why don’t you take him out?”
Resting his hands on Billy’s thighs, Hughie swallows and nods. It takes two tries to get his fly down, but when he gets his hand around his cock, his touch is smooth, familiar. He strokes Billy a few times. Nothing fast or hard, not with how much he’s already throbbing.
“Someone’s done this before,” Billy says with a rough chuckle.
“One or twice,” Hughie admits.
Becca cups a breast through her dress, thankful the bra she’s wearing has no padding. “He’s leaking. Clean him up.”
Dipping his head, Hughie catches the lowest dribble of precome just under the tip and traces it up to the slit, scooping it up with his tongue. He hums at the taste of him.
Billy rests a hand on his head but doesn’t push.
“He likes it when you use the flat of your tongue,” she continues. Her mouth feels dry. Her panties are wet. She rubs her thighs together for some much needed friction.
And Hughie, once again, does exactly what she suggests. He starts at the root and molds his tongue to the curve of Billy’s cock, licking a broad stripe up to the tip, catching the slit once more before pulling away.
It takes all of Billy’s restraint not to thrust up into his face. His eyes are focused in on Hughie’s mouth, and if Becca didn’t know for a fact just how much he adores her, if she wasn’t so hot and bothered by the idea of sharing Hughie, she’d be a little concerned. “Surely you can do more than that.”
She nips at his jaw. “You want more, Billy?” She ghosts her fingers over the back of Hughie’s hand, still set on her husband’s thigh. “Take him as deep as you can.”
Hughie’s cheeks flush bright red as he finally closes his lips around the head of his cock. They hollow as he sucks, his eyes trained on the two of them above him, and then he lowers his head, taking in more and more. He gags briefly but pushes on.
This time, Billy can’t stop the jerk of his hips. He curses at the feeling of Hughie’s nose against him, practically smashed into his groin. “Fuck, Becca.”
“He’s good, isn’t he?” She bites her lip. “I knew he would be.”
Hughie moans, muffled and wet, his eyes watering, and it’s everything.
“Fuck your face,” Becca breathes.
He does. He pulls back for a gasping breath, not bothering to brush away the tears before dipping back down again. He steadies himself with both hands on Billy’s thighs as he takes him in again and again. It’s wet and loud and filthy.
It’s only a matter of time before Billy comes. Becca knows that for a fact, can see how he’s barely holding on, occasionally thrusting up into Hughie’s mouth but trying not to choke him. She lays a meandering line of kisses down the side of his jaw, along the curve of his neck. She bites down hard enough to leave an imprint and redden his skin. She swallows the shout as he clutches at Hughie’s head and comes deep down his throat.
With a wet cough, Hughie sits back on his feet. His pants are tented, his lips are swollen. He waves off any concern as he works to breathe at a more normal pace. “I’m fine, promise,” he says hoarsely. He winces at the sound. “Or I will be in a minute.”
Billy tucks himself back in but doesn’t bother doing up his fly. Instead, he rocks forward and hauls Hughie up onto the couch by the arm. “No sense in sitting on the floor.” He tucks him into his side opposite Becca.
And Becca is still wet, still aching. She can see that Hughie is still hard. She glances over at him and smirks. “Us next?”
His grin is brilliant. “Hell yeah.”