Warning: MxM, yaoi, SM-ish, possible violence trigger

Hatori is a naughty boy.

The explanation would include Takano's scandalously uncharacteristic preference, an underestimation of Onodera's guts and Hatori's new quest as the peeping tom of the workroom.

It isn't Hatori's fault, not really. He's just being a good boy. He's staying back in the deserted office at 11pm on a Friday night. Just in case anything goes amiss in the upcoming department heads' meeting regarding the book he's assigned to. He knows that he's not officially needed, but who knows what will happen? He has his extra research, his sales projections, his marketing proposals. As he walks back to his desk with a vendo coffee in hand, Hatori feels secure that he's most adequately prepared.

But oh boy, nothing in all his years of existence could have prepared him for this.

As he takes the final turn towards the entrance of the office room, the first thing that comes to Hatori's mind is "ghost!" even though that's ridiculous (this new fear must stem from Chiaki's constant pranking, he's certain). But it turns out to be worse. About 152.2x worse.

Takano. Onodera. Making out against the wall like the world is about to end. Hatori freezes and steps back in the shadows instinctively.

He should've walked away. A true professional would respect his colleagues' sexual predilections and affairs, allowing them privacy and then perhaps having a discreet word with them regarding caution and work ethics. And Hatori Yoshiyuki is nothing if not a true professional. Except this—as Onodera's soft moan breaks through his thoughts, a wild curiosity he never knew he had fixes Hatori in place.

That same cursed curiosity prompts him to peek in.

There's no denying it now. Either the two are making out, or a very disheveled Takano is giving Onodera open-mouthed and extremely ineffective CPR while frisking his bare, glistening torso.

"Not here," he urgently protests in a harsh whisper, grabbing Takano's hand which, Hatori notes, has been in the business of teasing the Onodera's nipples.

Without missing a beat, Takano's other hand slides down over the obvious bulge in his underling's pants. "Here, then?"

"That's…that's not what I meant!" Onodera squeals, red to the tips of his ears.

"Ah," the editor-in-chief says in a casual but unmistakably amused tone, eyes glinting in a way Hatori has never seen before. "You meant here."

Takano's left hand moves to grab Onodera's ass under his pants, and any onlooker can have a good guess at where his fingers are.

"No, no, I—" Onodera stutters, eyes shut tightly. "Takano-san, please. We're in the office. If anyone sees us—"

"—they're gonna have one hell of a good time," Takano finishes smoothly. Then his mouth drops to nibble on Onodera's ear. "As we will."

This is when Hatori notices how painfully hard he is.

It doesn't help that Takano decides to drop to his knees and seize Onodera's exposed hipbones. Hatori could see how rigidly Onodera's fingers are gripping Takano's shoulders. He's sure his boss will have bruises in the morning, which apparently concerns Takano enough to urgently remove the hands on his shoulder and firmly place them at the back of his head.

Hatori is confused when Onodera lets out a startled gasp. "Takano-san! Not here…you have a meeting later—"

Suddenly Onodera's head snaps back and slams against the wall, his eyes blown wide. From pain or pleasure, or perhaps both. Under the swathe of moonlight, his extended neck is pale and smooth. Hatori feels his teeth clamping down on his lips, hard. He shifts his gaze back down at Takano, whose eyes are half-closed and wet. His right cheek is tear-stained.

"He's deep-throating him," Hatori realizes. Then a groan ripples out of Takano, rough and desperate. Begging. Hatori watches his cheeks clench in as he sucks fervently. With a barely-contained whimper, Onodera's fingers close around a hunk of black hair tightly—so tight it must be painful—and he pushes Takano's head in so deep his cock sinks to the hilt inside his boss' mouth.

A stifled cough escapes Takano, and another tear falls down his cheek. Then he moans and sucks even harder.

"He's gagging and he's enjoying it."

Hatori's hands deftly take his belt off.

He almost can't believe it. He's seeing the almighty Masamune Takano, tyrannical head of the Emerald Department, in such wanton submission.

"No, I don't believe this," Hatori thinks as he impatiently pulls his zipper and boxers down, releasing his cock noiselessly. It flicks up so fast the glistening tip hits his abdomen.

Except he does believe it.

Finally, Onodera's free hand flies up to his mouth, in an attempt to muffle the growls tearing through him. Never, never has Hatori ever imagined the goody-two-shoes Onodera, who hated his perfect white feathers being ruffled, to be this out of control. This feral. He is as fixated as Hatori, unable to look away from the tantalizing sight of his cock thrusting in and out between Takano's moist and swollen lips.

"Stop," Onodera says with an unmistakable quaver in his voice. "Just wait—"

In response, Takano's hands begin to stroke under Onodera's balls. He stares up at his subordinate with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he licks the underside of his cock from root to tip. Then Takano proceeds to suck the head, his tongue playing with the leaking slit.

"Takano-san," Onodera whimpers, half a protest, half a plea. "Takano-san, no, please, I'm gonna—"

The next moan that rips out of him sends a current up Hatori's spine. Onodera makes no effort to keep it down anymore. "Takano-san!" Onodera gasps as his back arches. He shoves Takano's head in one last time, thrusting into the willing mouth with wild abandon.

Takano almost chokes as thick white cum fills his mouth, spilling over his lips and down the line of his stretched throat, pooling at the bones under his neck and dripping down his chest. Hatori imagines the white liquid flowing down Takano's abs and pooling at his belt. It finally dawns on him that he's so close and he might be caught but for once he doesn't give a shit.

Onodera profusely apologizes, his words breathless. Takano says nothing. Instead, he meets the guilty eyes with a languid stare and slowly sucks cum off each of his long fingers. When he's done, he takes a hard swallow and licks the remnants off his lips.

Needless to say, Hatori strokes himself as fast and as hard as he can, desperately pressing his other hand against his mouth as he reaches a blinding orgasm.

When sense floods back to Hatori, he hastily stuffs his boxers and zips himself up, careful not to stain any of his clothes. As calmly as he can, he strides out the corridor to the nearest restroom. The halls are completely empty, thank heavens. When the cubicle door shuts behind him, Hatori lets out a sigh of relief. His knees give way under him, trembling with both nerves and exhaustion. After wiping himself off, he washes his face and stares at his disbelieving face in the mirror.

Hatori Yoshiyuki, the impeccable enigma of the Emerald Department, has just jacked off in the office. Well, considering what he's just witnessed, this revelation is pretty much anticlimactic.

Still. Hatori almost doesn't recognize his reflection.

He checks his phone for emails to give himself time to calm down. Afterwards, Hatori counts to ten, pushes the door open and walks back to the office with his usual self-assured gait.

He almost bolts in the opposite direction when he sees Takano in his path.

Before he can even react, Takano beckons him to come over, holding up a few folders. Hatori convinces himself that work is more important than the identity crisis and possible mental breakdown he's experiencing right now.

"Sales finally had some sense in their money-worshiping brains to back us up," Takano says in his usual deadpan voice, making Hatori wonder if the last hour was just a hallucination conjured by a devastating mental illness he's never known he had. "I saw your bag on your desk and decided to wait to give you the news. After all, it is your biggest project this year."

Said biggest project of the year is currently the least of Hatori's concerns. "Uh, yes. Thank you. Such successes do inspire an editor. Good work today."

Takano nods, but Hatori notices that something has caught his boss' attention. He follows his stare. Is Takano…is he gaping at Hatori's crotch? No, he made sure he cleaned up spotlessly before he stepped out. Almost immediately those knowing grey eyes flick back up to meet his. "I trust you will in turn inspire Yoshikawa Chiharu's imagination after this."

After Takano walks away, Hatori glances down his pants. No bulges. He's relieved, if not a bit puzzled. "Why then…"

This is when Hatori sees the almost invisible white mark on his shirt, about six inches over his crotch. Then his eyes go wide in realization.

That night, Hatori insists that Chiaki wear a pair of black-framed glasses, thanking his lucky stars his boyfriend has black hair.