Quit whining,” Link murmurs in Ian's ear, “We’re at work. People’ll hear.”
Ian squirms helplessly between them, trying his best to comply— until Rhett thumbs his way across Ian's nipple, tearing more involuntary whimpers from his throat.
Rhett’s voice is hot against Ian’s other ear. “What’d Link just say?”
Rhett clamps his free hand over Ian’s mouth at the perfect time to muffle the yelp as Link bites down on his neck in retaliation.
“Not very good at following directions,” Link pulls back to study him. Ian shivers under Link’s gaze, his face heating up at the insult.
“Suppose we’ll have to have another employee conduct meeting then, wont we?”
And then Rhett’s hand drops from circling Ian's nipple to trace below his belt, and Ian finds himself giving up on being quiet all together.
Rhett pins him up against the wall, and Ian realizes that Link has led him into a trap.
Of course there had been an ulterior motive when Link had approached him that morning— chipper grin that Ian knew meant trouble. No wonder Link had been so encouraging— “C'mon, it’ll look real cute on you!”— enough so that Ian had agreed to “Match with me, man!” and don the spare set of overalls that Link had brought.
They’re definitely Link's— at least that’s the conclusion that Ian had come to after having to roll up the pant legs an ungodly number of times, all the while wincing in the bathroom mirror at the reflection there —basically drowning in Link’s clothes, the cuffs he’s put in the pants are barely saving him. His beard needs a trim, he’s out of shape, bad posture, soft stomach, purple undereyes— and trying not to let Link’s touches and praise as he helped Ian adjust the straps make him feel better.
Now, though —as Rhett mutters “Cute…so cute…” between bites at Ian’s collarbone— Ian finds himself quickly gaining an understanding Link’s true motive.
“Rhett—Oh—h” Ian finds himself cut off as Rhett’s leg slots in between his, pressing up against his crotch through the denim.
“Nice overalls,” Rhett murmurs, catching Ian’s jaw in his hand and nipping at his lower lip. “I like ‘em.”
Rhett slips open one of the shoulder straps, giving his hand access to run down Ian’s body and grab at his hips, his thumb pressing forward until it reaches the spot that makes Ian twist and gasp against him.
“Real cute.” Rhett’s other thumb brushes against Ian’s nose. “You want more, sweetheart?”
The nickname makes his face feel hot, but Ian can’t help nodding and whining, finding himself temporarily incapable of speech.
“Mm-hmm, ah, mm, mm-hmm—!” His voice pitches up, choked, as the hand on his hip shifts forwards towards the front of his overalls, brushing against his erection. Rhett lets out a fond little laugh.
“Use your words, pretty thing.”
“Y-yes! Yes—oh—god—I—ah—Rhett, I—yes, yes—” Ian lets out an embarrassing, strangled sound as Rhett’s hand slips under his waistband to stroke his cock, burying his head in Rhett’s chest. Rhett is making soothing little noises, his other hand running through Ian’s hair.
“Shh, shh, there you go, there you go, honey.”
The door to the office clicks open, and they both jump— but it’s just Link, standing there his own pair of overalls. Ian can see the wheels turning in Rhett’s arousal-fogged brain as he looks back and forth between Ian and Link, slack-jawed.
Link steps forward, closing the door behind him, a satisfied smirk on his face.
“Hey, fellas. Room for one more?”
