If he paused for even a moment to consider what he was doing, Russ would stop, flip his shit, and leave. So he didn’t pause; didn’t hesitate. When Milt’s leg’s hit the desk, Russ kept shoving, pushing until they stumbled into his chair- Milt fell back with a gasp, flushed, eyes wide with surprise and mouth dark from the pressure of Russ’ own mouth against it. He liked the way the agent’s chest rose and fell, breath coming in harsh pants – trying so hard to get caught up, to stay with the program, but this was Russ’ game, he’d written the damn agenda, and at no point did he intend to let Milt fricken’ Chamberlain get his feet back under him.
“Russ,” Milt started, pushing himself up from the slump he landed in- Russ shook his head at him, waving a hand a waist level.
“No Milt. Shut up. Just…” He grated out a sigh, and slid onto his lap, letting their clothed erections rub together. Grinned at Milt’s low noise of pleasure. “See? Better things to do then talk.” Like don’t think. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think.