Work Text:
There were a great many things that were going just about as comically wrong as they could, all in one little gift wrapped nightmare of a workday– first, perhaps it was partially on account of Cecil's not-quite-subtle attempts at dropping jabs about how he really felt about Station Management's excessive moodiness– which, they'd put on full display from the moment he opened the station's doors after completing the Bloodstone ritual to unlock them, and he was met with a piercing shriek so loud and unearthly, it was frankly shocking it didn't rupture his eardrums- or perhaps it had, because that still hurt.
If they knew what was good for they, and they certainly did, they would stop before it ended with blood spilled- which, typically ended up being a poor intern's, who was caught in the crossfire; and he didn't try to go out of his way to accelerate the process of the unfortunate and untimely demise of their poor subordinates. So, they put a cork in it and let it be; only after a few choice words, of course.
But of course, the shrieking continued, and as muffled it was with the buffer of a door and some cheap sound padding in between them; a simple door and aforementioned cheap sound padding did not account much for the decibels that an unearthly abomination beyond human– and even not-quite-fully-human– comprehension was capable of reaching. Really, he couldn't tell you what they were even thinking in the first place; or if they were thinking at all.
The listeners were just about as happy as they were with the ear bleeding chorus of screeching- which was to say, not happy at all. They would voice this concern just as well, too, flooding the lines with complaints and some choice words; some of which Cecil couldn't even be mad at, if only due to how outrageously creative they were. However, mostly, it was irritating at best; and disruptive and infuriating at worst.
The intern, the poor, poor intern, was forced to juggle the calls and, for some reason, angry faxes as they came through. The lengths these people were going through just to complain about Station Management! Cecil thought, scoffing to himself.
What was it's name again? Juniper? Juniar? Judith? Juno? Well, there wasn't much time to figure that out- they did have a job to do, after all. Pondering on the name of their newest intern wasn't what got the bills paid, or food on the table and in his lovely husband's stomach. Speaking of–
The weather meant they had a small reprise from the chaos, and the calls ceased for a few minutes. Just enough for whatever-its-name-is to catch its breath, and for Cecil to react to the first good thing to happen in all of this nightmarish workday– Carlos, his wonderful Carlos, all but tumbled into the radio station, what with how quickly he burst through the doors; nearly losing his footing. Quick reflexes were often their saving grace, and Cecil caught him in his arms and steadied him before he could fall and injure that pretty face of his.
It only took a moment for his husband to collect himself before he was positively beaming at him, and they were tempted, they were so tempted, to pull him into the nearest utility closet and kiss that smile off of his face… among many other things. Of course, they might have just kissed him then and there; but goodness, how terribly unprofessional would that be? In front of their intern? And no, it was not simply because he was just afraid of Station Management, how foolish of a thought–
"Ce!" He gasped after a considerable delay.
"Oh, bun, you have no idea–"
"Actually," Carlos interrupted him, pushing him away lightly and walking towards the– towards Station Management's room? "i do. Quite well. My team of scientists have made sure I know this, even after I took out my hearing aids-" he stopped just in front of the door, pulling out an erlenmeyer flask from his pocket. It was filled with a black-ish purple liquid, and sealed with a makeshift cork lid. "they were writing passive-aggressive notes on the whiteboards, and on the margins of my research papers. 'Just because you can tune the world out whenever you want doesn't mean the rest of us have that privilege, Dr. Carlos!'" He said this with an exaggerated lilt, presumably mocking the apparent complaints of his fellow scientists. Cecil was just trying to take in all of this information while rushing over to stop his husband from getting too close to the door, lest something terrible happen.
However, Carlos turned his back to them, and uncorked the bottle before Cecil could even try to ask- at the very least- what in the world he was trying to accomplish. Now kneeling just in front of the door, (was the liquid steaming, now?) seemingly unphased by the increasingly loud shrieks emanating from underneath the door, he carefully set the flask in front of the door, and waited– what for, Cecil couldn't say.
The following moments were a blurred panic of mostly reflex and pure adrenaline. There was banging on Station Management's door, and Carlos was unmoving. All they could think, manage, to do, was dive forward and pull Carlos into their arms; turning over so he was tucked underneath their body, using it as some sort of makeshift shield that they knew could only do so much to protect against the threat at hand. There was enough of a difference in their body mass and heights for them to have Carlos relatively covered, but they decided to bring out their tentacles for extra coverage anyway. Hopefully the intern would be fine– they noticed it cowering underneath their desk from the corner of their eye. Maybe they could throw together a nice little gift basket with Carlos to offer it as an apology- assuming they all survived this. I'll make sure I have a stern talking with Carlos about how reckless this was, too, he thought, knowing good and well he hardly ever had the heart to do such a thing.
Whatever catastrophe or fallout they had braced themself for still hadn't come to pass, even after quite a few moments; and Cecil hadn't actually processed that the noise was dying down, until it had almost fully subsided– and then, it was completely silent. Just like that. He cocked his head slightly, shooting a look at the intern. It shrugged helplessly back at them, just as confused as they felt.
"Bunny–"
"I think," Carlos started as he wiggled out from underneath his weight, "that did the trick." Just slightly more cautious now, Carlos crawled on all fours over to the door, and they all held their breaths, listening for something, anything. But there was nothing to be heard, not even the sounds of Station Management walking about the room. When he looked back at Cecil, there was a subtle hint of giddy, almost mad, satisfaction in his expression; the kind that told him he hadn't been entirely confident in what results his experiment would yield.
"Honey, I am glad for– whatever it is you just did, really! But you still haven't explained—"
"Umm," a small voice cut into the conversation this time, and if not for the audible anxiety in its tone alone; Cecil would have been well past his breaking point, and regrettably, likely would have snapped at it. Thankfully, it didn't come to that. They both glanced over, to find it standing again, nervously wringing one hand and holding Cecil's headphones out in an extended hand. "It- I think weather ended about… likesixminutesago."
Oh, lovely. Six entire minutes of dead air– just what they needed! Yeah, sure, Station Management seemed to have been subdued by whatever Science trick Carlos brought along this time- but when they found out—
A nudge from his husband broke his trance, and he shot a quick look at him, one that said 'you are not getting off the hook without explaining this," to which Carlos merely grinned.
"Okay, coming. I'm coming."
After getting out a quick string of curses and insults that had been simmering all day, Cecil collected himself and slipped back into his Professional Mode, just as simple as slipping into his favorite sequin date night gown. Just as simple as his husband slipping said date night gown off of him, before dropping to his knees, and—
Focus.
"Listeners! Now, as I'm sure you all know, Station Management was in a bit of a tizzy today! And we heard your deeply helpful suggestions– and, as I'm sure you all have noticed already, the problem is no more. My husband, Carlos– you know, the scientist we all know and love– showed up just in the nick of time! Of course, there was a bit of downtime while we sorted it out, but I know it's moments like these where silence is golden."
From the corner of their eye, they noticed Carlos was talking to the intern, gesturing as he often did when speaking about much of anything– and gods, he really needed to remember its name– and then, the intern was packing its bag, and heading for the door. They had no doubt it was Carlos' doing- because, despite it only having been around for a week or so, Cecil had figured out that it was deeply timid in nature; and certainly wasn't the type to leave in the middle of work- much less when in their direct line of sight. He narrowed his eyes at his husband, questioning, but Carlos offered no hint into his motives, apart from an incredibly smug grin– which, actually, thinking about it, was a pretty good indication of what those plans might be. Not that it took a genius. Carlos' texts had been on the frisky side, just before he showed up unannounced and saved the workday with Science, yet again.
There wasn't much longer left anyway, so Cecil chose to continue the broadcast and not allow himself any distractions– including any from his husband. Really, he could handle it. Or, so he'd truly convinced himself.
However noble a thought it might have been, laser focusing on the final stretch of the broadcast wasn't really that effective in helping them actually focus; especially not when they only just caught him in time to see it happen, but not in enough time to shoo Carlos away– and now he was shuffling underneath their desk, and nestling against their legs. It was terribly distracting– of course it was, with Carlos nuzzling his head against their knees, with him rubbing his thumbs sweetly into the sides of their thighs; and it hadn't even occurred to them how much tension they were holding in their body, not until their beautiful, scheming husband was trying to massage some of that tension out of them.
It was a battle in itself not to squeak or just groan into the microphone– oh, how unprofessional would that be. Sure, it went without saying that Carlos wanted to help relieve some of his stress– this, he never would have doubted for a second– but it also went without saying that he had other obvious motives in mind. Which, again, wasn't particularly unexpected with the things he said over text; and whileCecil had a feeling he would have more than just Science up his sleeve, but this was just–
Now those fingers, those hands– calloused and a little rough but in such an oddly gentle way– were skirting up the ends of his long skirt, ghosting over his skin, brushing so lightly it was almost maddening. A hum, silent enough as to ensure only one person would be hearing it, escaped his lips, and hot breath followed this, just on his knee, with the thin barrier of stockings dulling it, but it still made his skin tingle and his head spin pleasantly. Not much longer left on the broadcast- they could do this. They would have been lying if they said there wasn't an unparalleled thrill in the nature of it– taboo, risky, so filthy– they would have to thank Carlos later, for indulging them in this side of their… fantasies. There was a mutual enjoyment to be had from it, though.
Now I understand why he needed to get the intern out of here, they thought as they bit back a pleased hum, Carlos pulling their thighs apart, letting those calloused hands roam over their inner thighs, scraping his nails just lightly over the exposed skin higher up. Now that there was less of the factor of surprise involved, it was much easier for Cecil to stay grounded and focus on wrapping up the broadcast. They felt smug, maybe a little too smug, when they still were able to keep their composure upon feeling Carlos leave open mouthed kisses on the inside of their thighs. All they had left was to sign off, and then—
But then, all too suddenly, that warmth traveled further up, and Cecil had to quite literally bite his tongue to stop from making an inappropriate noise. Carlos mouthed and lapped at his strained erection through his underwear, his nails digging into his thighs at the same time. Miraculously, even despite that, they managed to finish the broadcast without much more of a hitch– certainly no considerable one, after all of that.
"Carlos–" he growled, his voice low, a little threatening, in the way he knew made his husband weak in the knees. All he got in response was a delighted hum. There was a part of him that wanted to just let this be quick and simple, to let Carlos get it on with already– but really, after all of that? What a wasted opportunity that would have been.
They pushed themself back, letting their chair roll backwards just enough to see his husband more clearly; to accommodate him and offer a little more comfort for what was to come. Carlos looked so giddy, so satisfied with himself, and they didn't doubt that, were it possible, his pupils would be heart shaped.
"You-"
"Too much?" He cocked his head innocently, but his growing smirk told Cecil he already knew the answer.
"Quite the opposite," they purred, as they patted a hand on their thigh, beckoning. They didn't even need to say it- he was already crawling forward, kneeling so prettily in front of them. Cecil took his chin into their hand, angling it so he was looking straight up at them. "I'm going to put this pretty mouth to use," he murmured, thumbing at his lower lip. "But you already knew this didn't you, Bun?"
Carlos visibly shivered. "I was. Anticipating this, yes." Cecil raised an eyebrow, and Carlos caught on pretty quickly, "Sir," he clarified, oh-so obediently.
"Open for me, now."
Carlos did as he was told, parting his lips and opening his mouth, letting them slide their thumb in; like it was second nature. He closed his lips around the finger and sucked, humming in pure delight; eyes half-lidded, and he was perfect in the way that often made intelligent words fail Cecil.
"Good boy," they cooed sweetly, retracting their thumb; much to Carlos' disappointment.
His darling husband, who was now panting with the extent of his want, pupils blown wide with desire, looked on the verge of tears. "I want–"
"And you shall receive," Cecil shushed him. With a little less grace than they would have preferred, they shimmied and pulled their panties down, lifting their skirt, just enough to get the reaction they wanted out of their husband. He was panting like a dog, squeezing his thighs together and fidgeting in place– but still obidient, he did not so much as make a move until Cecil instructed him to do so. "So sweet for me, Bun."
"Can I, can I please–"
"You may."
Carlos hummed, eagerly taking Cecil's cock into his hand, and after all of that teasing, it was enough to make him hiss through his teeth. At the same moment, he licked a broad stripe over the length of their cock, and Cecil already needed to twin his fingers in his hair for some kind of leverage.
Carlos looked right back up at them all the while– those beautiful, deep brown eyes, pupils so wide they were practically black, and it was more than enough for them to get lost in.
And sweet Carlos was lost in it, in his own desire, in his eagerness to be so good for him– so good to him. Then he takes him into his mouth, his motions slow, but deliberate.
"Oh my beautiful, perfect Carlos," he breathes, twisting locks of that dark, silver-shot hair between his fingers absent-mindedly. This elicts a drawn out, muffled moan from him, the vibrations from which he felt straight through his cock. It was a delightful sort of back-and-forth, each of them coming undone further with every desperate noise that left their throats.
Carlos was bobbing his head now, making use of his hand to accommodate the rest of him; his hand cupped lightly around his balls, just enough pressure to give them that wonderful, tingling sort of feeling that they felt all through their legs and in the pit of their stomach.
"Fuck, honey, baby, I'm close–" they warned in a choked moan, most, if not all, of their composure since having abandoned them in the intensity of their building orgasm.
Carlos hummed around them, clearly uninterested in stopping for long enough to vocalize a confirmation, but, although muffled, his enthusiasm, combined with him taking Cecil as far down his throat as he could manage, conveyed his response clearly– and they couldn't hold on for long after that. They tugged hard on Carlos' beautiful, glossy curls– something which they would apologize for profusely later, and Carlos would simply laugh and say 'it's very flattering, actually,' as he did every time– but for now, nothing mattered but that feeling, nothing except for chasing that orgasm, encouraged by the dizzying enthusiasm from his beautiful husband. Cecil came with a cry, doing their best not to thrust reflexively to ride out the high of it– it was not that kind of mood, for tonight, and he'd rather not choke Carlos.
And Carlos took it all, enthusiastic and perfect and filthy, his eyes rolling back a little with the intensity of it.
"Gods, fuck–" Cecil cursed, overwhelmed– the wet, filthy noise as Carlos finally pulled away still managing to make him burn with desire. "You– come here." His voice was raspy, and it wasn't obvious if he or Carlos was more wrecked from it.
Carlos climbed right up, straddling their lap- and it was a little awkward in a rolling desk chair only intended to sit one person at any time, and certainly for two grown adults, but that never deterred him- and Cecil would never complain about that. He grinned- and it was lopsided and a little delirious, his face was glistening with sweat and tried tears, his glasses had smudges all over them, there was still a little bit of drool around the corners of his mouth- and he couldn't have been more perfect than he was, just like that. Cecil used his sleeve to wipe the corners of his husband's mouth, and he smiled right back at him, full of all the fondness in his aching and yearning heart.
"Hi, you."
Carlos giggled and bonked their foreheads together lightly. "Hi."
"I think I'm due to repay the favor, no?" He chuckled. "You know I'm not one to take without giving."
"Hm… well, I'm not opposed, per se– just, uh. No penetration today," Carlos explained quickly. "And, uh- eek-" Carlos squeaked a little, a surprised, but delighted noise when Cecil trailed small kisses from his jaw to his neck. "Maybe, we uh. Wait. Until we get home. I am. A little afraid of how Station Management will feel about us continuing for much longer here."
How Station Management would feel?– Cecil froze, now feeling just a little panicked, and maybe a little (read: very) flustered, "Oh, gods, Carlos- you. I completely forgot. How could I–"
"Pff–" Carlos wheezed a little, and they could tell he was trying to hold back full belly laughter for their sake; but, frankly, that just made it hard for Cecil not to burst into laughter with him. "I suppose this proves my hypothesis was correct– I mean. If it really could make you stop thinking about that."
"That is a sore understatement, Bunny."
The satisfied smirk that earned him lit another fire in him, and Cecil was almost convinced they would both say 'fuck it' and risk going a little longer, when his husband leaned in for a greedy kiss– that was, of course, until they both startled from another unearthly shriek coming from Station Management's room. Carlos pulled away with a gasp, eyes wide and panicked. Their leisure time to fool around in the radio station, it would seem, was quite over.
"We should leave–"
"Right now. Yes. Let's do that." Cecil muttered, helping Carlos out of his lap before he stood and quickly pulled his panties back up.
Carlos helped gather his bag and tumbler cup– and, as guilty as he felt, he would have to forgo wishing his dear Khoshekh a good night; in favor of ensuring that both he and his husband escaped with their heads and internal organs intact.
With Carlos' hand held firm in theirs, they fled the station; Cecil hastily spilling blood to lock the doors tight behind them before they ran to Carlos' car. Even after getting in and locking the doors, they didn't particularly feel fully safe until they were well over a mile away from the station. There wasn't a tension, per se, but perhaps a bit of an awkwardness in the silence. It was their duty to fill said silence, he was certain–
"You know, Honeypup, I really wish you would try to be more—"
"Your intern's name is June," Carlos informed them, interrupting what they both knew Cecil was trying to tell him; that he really needed to be more careful, take better care of himself–
"June." He deadpanned, deciding that, fine, for now, he would let him off the hook. Maybe it would be easier to give him a gentle lecture after he finally gets his hands on him and makes him come– at least a handful of times. Get him relaxed enough to stop fretting over every small detail.
"Mhm," Carlos hummed, satisfied at the small, unspoken offering of mercy, "i think June realizes how in over its head it is, now. I told it not to be nervous to put in a two weeks notice."
Cecil sighed- not out of disappointment, or anger, or anything of the sort- it was just relief. The new intern– June, was a good kid. It was a nervous wreck, not terribly confident, a little scatter brained; sure. But it was intelligent, and motivated, and kind, and Cecil was- quite frankly- a little jaded from seeing intern after intern lost in increasingly tragic, or strange, or just entirely avoidable accidents. Carlos was right- and maybe, just maybe, they could consider this a blessing in disguise. If it only meant seeing one intern make it out alive.
"You're right. I'll probably just bring it up myself. Not leave any room for them deciding against it," they muttered.
"Maybe I could offer it an internship at the lab," Carlos mused. Cecil huffed an affectionate laugh.
"Sure. I'm sure it would appreciate that."
Another silence followed, but not for long this time- at the very least, they had to ask one thing–
"So… what was in that erlenmeyer flask, anyway? How did you know it would even work?"
"Ah- right. That. Um. I, uh, didn't know that it would? I mean. I had a strong feeling, but I suppose I could have been. More responsible," he stammered, looking anywhere but at Cecil, "and uh, what was in it, was uh. Well, I don't think it would make much sense to you. Just, you know. Science."
"Science. Right." Cecil sighed- but when he noticed Carlos flinch a little, he softened. "Hey- Bun, it's okay. I promise, okay? Just. I do really wish you would be more careful. Take your wellbeing into consideration more often." He caught Carlos' gaze for a moment, smiling at him, hoping it conveyed his sincerity. With the way he visibly relaxed and breathed a small sigh, they were certain it had.
"I- yeah. I'll try, sweetie."
They still weren't quite satisfied- wanted to make sure Carlos was really going to try to hold himself to that promise this time. Still, they could get to that. Later. Plenty of time to do that after they helped him relax. They were terribly overdue, and excited, to return the favor in full.